Nashville Stars, Ripe for the Pickin'

Bentley chats with the fan but doesn't purchase the $6,000 guitar. Other stars have been more self-indulgent. Billy Gibbons from ZZ Top has purchased more than 100 guitars from Gruhn, according to owner and founder George Gruhn. "I've sold at least 50 vintage guitars to Eric Clapton," he adds. "Whenever Eric is in town, he comes and visits."

The staff at the smaller Cotten Music Center in charming Hillsboro Village, southwest of downtown, also sells guitars to the stars, as well as regular folk. "Vince Gill might come in and borrow a mandolin for a recording session," says Roger Milam, a retired lawyer, guitar "hobbyist" and Cotten employee. "Steve Earle comes in. Lyle Lovett is in here a lot."

Gill and wife Amy Grant have been spotted all over Hillsboro, a pretty community with brick sidewalks, used bookshops, independent clothing stores and charming eateries, including the popular Pancake Pantry, where artists from Keith Urban to Natalie Cole have enjoyed hearty breakfasts.

If you sit on the banquette, the tables are so close you're bound to make a new friend. Effervescent vocalist Abby Burke, who recently released "Finally! The Album" featuring the Manly Band, shares the star-spotting lowdown as she finishes her crepes. The trendy Sunset Grill is a "chi-chi restaurant" in Hillsboro, she says, where you can watch posh people "pushing around their nouveau cuisine." Stop into Hillsboro Hardware, she encourages: "You'll see the most amazing people buying duct tape." Better yet, get in line with Bentley's manager, Scott Kernahan, at Fido, a spacious Hillsboro coffee shop where you can order espresso concoctions called "milk bone" and "pink poodle."

Where there is caffeine, there are music people. Near Hillsboro is the elegant, mostly residential Belmont area, home to Bongo Java, another unique coffee shop with an outdoor deck and patio, adjacent to Belmont University. This spot attracts an eclectic crowd, from progressive students to pop stars. Ben Folds, formerly of the band Ben Folds Five, allegedly lives just a few houses away and gets his java fix at the Bongo, along with Tonic front man Emerson Hart.

"I couldn't live in L.A. anymore," says Hart, sucking down an iced coffee on the patio, aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes from the morning sun. Hart lives nearby with his wife in a Queen Anne-style house and is working on a solo album. In Los Angeles, he says, "there was no relaxing; there was stress. . . . I have a freedom [in Nashville] that I can create."

When Hart first moved into the Belmont neighborhood, a teenage fan camped out on his front lawn -- highly suspicious to Hart's genteel neighbors. But few people bother him when he's at his favorite eateries, such as Brown's Diner, where he chomps on "the best burgers," he says. On the outside, Brown's looks as chic as a trailer. On the inside, Hart says, "it's smoky, old-timers are at the bar, Hank Williams is on the jukebox -- it's like a time warp."

The Elliston Place Soda Shop is another celebrity hideout. On Tuesdays and Thursdays it serves "the best fried chicken," Hart reports, and the milkshakes are a must. The Soda Shop is a "meat-and-three," one of those Southern institutions where you choose a meat and three vegetable sides for little more than $6. "I love that they consider macaroni a vegetable," Hart says with a chuckle. "A meal there costs me an extra five miles on the treadmill, but it's worth it."

Arnold's Country Kitchen is one of Bentley's favorite meat-and-threes. Near Music Row, a few streets where studios and record labels are situated, Arnold's doesn't look promising. Food is served cafeteria-style. Plunging his fork into mashed potatoes and green beans, Bentley recalls the demise of a serious relationship, when he lost his appetite and significant weight. The remedy? "I started coming here a lot," he says, now sporting a robust frame.

In addition to co-owner Jack Arnold's down-home cooking, the friendly, longtime staff attracts Bentley, Chet Atkins and John Prine to Arnold's, despite its cosmetic challenges. Most important, it's not on tourist maps. Few taxi drivers and hotel concierges even know Arnold's.

"Don't you change now, Dierks," Arnold's co-owner, Rose Arnold, orders Bentley as he leaves her cinderblock refuge filled with lingering aromas of cornbread and gravy.

"I won't change," he reassures. "If I was going to change, don't you think I already would have?"