I’ve been to this place, and I don’t mean some kind of memorial after a mass shooting, but Nashville specifically. I lived there for a few years covering the South, and it’s not a big city. Its dominant industries of music and publishing can make it feel even smaller, like everyone knows everyone. Therefore, it was inevitable that a country music artist would be present when First Lady Jill Biden visited the city to attend a vigil for the shooting victims of the Covenant School.
Will the circle be unbroken?
This is Ketch Secor, founding member of the Grammy Award-winning band Old Crow Medicine Show. I didn’t even get an introduction at the vigil, but that’s because everyone in the crowd already knows who he is – not just a famous musician, but a member of their community and a parent of two school-aged kids. In fact, he co-founded the school his kids attend in East Nashville in 2016. It’s called the Episcopal School of Nashville.
Therefore, when a school shooting occurs in our town, I am experiencing it from two distinct perspectives. It’s both as a parent and as somebody who’s on the other side of the pickup line as well. Upon a country singer’s departure from the road, it’s likely that they will be waiting in line to drop their child off at a school in Nashville, Tennessee, at 8:00 in the morning on Monday after the long weekend. When it comes to your home, it’s different.
He calls for country musicians to speak candidly.
Ketch Secor recently wrote an op-ed for The New York Times that caught our attention. It was titled Country Music Can Lead America Out of Its Obsession with Guns. In it, he calls for country musicians to speak candidly to their audiences about gun culture. I wanted to have him on the show to talk about that op-ed. Like, can country music really help lead the U.S. out of a gun debate? And what are the stakes for a musician in the genre if they actually take a stand? And what’s it like to live at the centre of it all as a parent, educator and musician in Nashville, Tennessee? This is the assignment. I’m Audie Cornish.
The shooting at the Covenant School kind of prompted you to write an op-ed for The New York Times. But can you take me back to that day a little bit? Where were you when you heard it happening?
Sure, it was on Monday, two weeks ago, and it was at 10:13 in the morning. I got a text message from our school attorney saying, ‘I’m so sorry, and I had no idea what was going on.’ And the prayer hand emoji is interesting.
So getting an emoji like that or getting the obligatory “are you okay?” that we all start to send each other now when there’s a shooting, especially at a school, you’re saying it hits you in a place of what? Panic. Fear. What? What do you feel?
It’s. It’s all the above. It’s. It’s your kids. It’s someone else’s kids. You know, the head of school was murdered. The connections between our schools are very present, and it’s as a community member in Nashville that I have this shocking realisation. Oh, this thing that happens in other towns has come to our town. And it’s come not just to our town, but to our children, to the place that is most sacred.
And even to your corner of that world, right? Like it didn’t happen at a public school. It didn’t happen at a big university. It happened at essentially a small Christian primary school. Right. Which is what you founded one for, right? It had connections.
Yeah. Our schools are very different in that regard and serve different populations. However, you know, we’re all the same. We are all, every school – public, private, charter, every stripe – in the business of believing that kids are our future and must be stewarded and loved and guided. And, you know, that’s a real elemental principle for me.
Can I ask, how old are your kids and do they go to the school you founded?
Yeah, they do. And they’re nine and 11.
So did the school you founded, this Episcopal school, go into lockdown? Kind of. What did you all have to do as a result?
The schools adjacent to Covenant did, but others in Nashville did not. The saddest part of that first day was the message stating that your children had not yet been notified. The staff knows, the teachers know, all the parents know, and everybody knows except the kids. And we’re going to talk about it tomorrow. But we wanted to give you the chance to talk about it first. So if you can imagine a pickup line, anybody who’s been through a school shooting in their community knows, you know, the pickup line that first day is full of tears.
Right. And for people who aren’t familiar with how big ups and drop-offs work these days in schools, there is a line, right, where it’s like they are literally chaperoning your kid to the kerb and you pick them up. There’s not just like wandering out of the building, which I think if you were a kid in the nineties is what you grew up with. Yeah, it’s a hand-to-hand pass-off.
That’s right, Audie. You must have kids.
Indeed, the juxtaposition of children, full of vibrant joy and life, and parents, full of grief and sadness, coming together is a powerful sight. This meeting, to me, was very powerful.
Meaning you’re standing on the kerb waiting to get your kid. But every parent’s face is just drawn.
And every parent is looking at every teacher and just, you know, holding back tears, as is every teacher. But every child continues to feel very safe. And yet we all know as parents that no child is safe any longer because this tragedy is in our backyard. It’s come to Nashville; it’s come to us, to our kids.
I guess I want to start maybe with Waggon Wheel, because if people go to look you up, that might be the first song they learn about. And you even write about it in this op-ed. Could you please share some insights about your career stage when you wrote this?
I am heading south to the Land of the Pines. I’m coming my way to North Carolina, staring up.
And it’s a collaboration with Bob Dylan. I wrote it when I was about 17, going to school up in New England at a prep school called Exeter, and I had just learned to play the banjo up there.
So rock me, Mama, like a waggon wheel. Rock me, Mama, any way you feel. Hey, Mama, rock me
You talk about the idea that your best-known song, Waggon Wheel, is often blasting out of a truck, so to speak, that has an NRA sticker. And you mention this specifically, and I want you to talk about why.
When you make the kind of music that I make with a fiddle and a banjo and harmony singing and a particular style of songwriting, you’re engaging in a community that might be different from your own sort of background. Well, there’s a train going by right now. This is sort of evidence…
I remember the train. Yeah.
The trains are always going by in Nashville.
We simply need to maintain the momentum on the podcast. It’ll add a little bit of colour and speak to what I’m talking about. You know, the trains are going by. The trucks have NRA stickers. You know, when I was a kid, there were Confederate flags everywhere. This is the South, y’all. The South now differs from other parts of the country, both positively and negatively. But it is what it is.
And when you’re around Nashville and you have political conversations, wherever the person falls on the spectrum, inevitably someone uses that phrase, Well, this is the South.
Like, that’s supposed to cover many things.
Yeah. And whether it’s supposed to be that way or not, you know, I think we’re in a state of considerable growth down south, but the vestiges remain, and they’re important to talk about in this regard, because one of the vestiges is gun culture, and it’s largely considered like the rebel flag in the past, just something that exists here. Deal with it, y’all. In reality, we have always had the power to dismantle this rebellious mindset. There’s one vestige that has been challenged effectively.
And effect change in one way, or at least raise the kind of societal stakes involved in engaging in certain language.
Totally. And so I see the change in gun culture as just like another step towards the South’s evolution.
To my mind, country and Americana are genres so closely aligned with their audiences. It’s very much like hip-hop, like people in hip-hop talk about the culture and their ties to the music, and the music ties quite literally to the identity of the people listening. And the country feels very much the same way. But as a result, it has a lot of, like, rules. You know, there are a couple of lines you people don’t like you to step out of. Can you talk about how that plays out in a modern country?
Sure. Well, today’s country singer might not come from the South and is college educated. So that they’re in has already changed the stereotype of who sings country music. You know, it’s not coal miners anymore. The coal miner’s daughter – like we all love Loretta, but that’s not who’s on number one right now. So that part of it has changed a lot. But what hasn’t changed so much are the attitudes of the audience.
Which to be clear. The country music audience also is wealthier and are decision-makers and are often managers. There’s been sort of like a lot of research into many people who are in the audience, and the audience probably looks a little different than people expect as well.
Well, I didn’t know to go into this, but I’m excited that we are, Audie, because, you know, country music, especially, and to clarify, contemporary country music on the radio, is a real safe space for us to not talk about political divisiveness and not talk about things of substance. But instead we’re all sort of reading Pulp Fiction together. And it’s it’s
Which is why it’s popular, right? I mean, during the pandemic, I heard that the growth of listening to music or streaming was maybe 15%. It was higher than any other genre.
People welcome that safe space.
Travel story. It’s, you know, very much stories, intergenerational family tales. That’s the kind of stuff that goes number one: the song about Grandpa and what a good guy he was and how if we could be a little bit more like him, then the world would be a better place. So this sort of, you know, hallmark kind of these ideals that are tossed around might not be that realistic for today’s reality of, you know, I worked; I’m part of a global economy working two jobs. And, you know, I’m hoping my kids are going to go get out-of-state tuition or whatever. And yet country music really deals in nostalgia. And that nostalgia is an important antidote to all of the pain that one can witness in the click of a mouse.
Right. So how does a gun work? Culture interacts with that nostalgia and storytelling because you’re saying in a way that that’s built into the music, too.
Johnny Cash is singing “I Shot a Man in Reno (Just to Watch Him Die).” Hank Jr is singing about it. Yeah, I’d like to spit some beach nut in that dude’s eye and shoot him with my old 45 because a country boy can survive. This is a way for country music to retain authority in a changing world. And guns–
But do you hear it in the modern music? Are there? You don’t have to pick out any artist. But do people still talk about that?
No, Audie. And that’s the thing. We don’t talk about guns. If we do, it’s a song about when I took my boy hunting for the first time. It’s again dealing in the nostalgia. What it’s not saying is I’ve got an AR-15 in my collection. But the reality is that many, many listeners do. And yet it’s a safe space where they are not confronted by the music of a changing reality. Instead, they are allowed to say, ‘I taught my child how to, you know. I mean, when I was a kid in the eighties, like, I went bird hunting with Dad, and I learned how to fire a weapon.’ I learned how to clean a weapon. These things are important to the ways that gun culture can be positive, but the safe space is that we’re not talking about what it means in today’s America. Instead, we are mostly stuck in yesterday.
So what is it like for artists such as yourself to raise this issue?
People keep saying, ‘Thanks for being brave.’ And I’m like. You know who’s brave? The kid that pulled the fire alarm, you know, in the hallway under gunfire in our town in a school, a kid that was a third grader. Now, that’s brave. All I’m doing is just being a singer and I’m going to sing about the stuff that’s real. I’m a writer, and I’m going to tell what I see.
I don’t want to read too much into the zoom, but I… Are you getting emotional talking about that?
Oh, yeah. I mean, I’ve been crying for two weeks, y’all, like it’s… When this comes to your town and they bury the same age kid as yours. And then, like, while the graves are still fresh, the news cycle moves on to Stormy Daniels, and that’s the reality. It’s like, good God, where do we live? What? Do we not care about kids at all? It’s just over. So this is my way of saying it’s not over and it won’t be over until those deaths, those three deaths of American children gunned down in the third grade, mean something; that’s when it’ll be over.
I will discuss more with Ketch Secor shortly.
You are demanding a new kind of movement come out of the south. You demand that cultural figures, not just politicians, such as yourself, play a role in leading this movement. Why do you think it could make a difference?
Well, I think that Nashville stands uniquely poised to lead a response to the school shooting epidemic.
But why do you think that? Right? We just watched the Tennessee State House expel two members because they had a protest related to gun policy. Expel, not censure, not reprimand. Try to kick them out. So what, in your mind, leads you to think that?
Well, Nashville, despite the fact that the state legislature is what it is, is a very progressive city. And I’m not saying that Tennessee is going to lead the way. I’m saying Nashville.
Yeah, but isn’t that the tough part? If in all these states, and it’s not just Tennessee, you’ve got these blue cities, these little blue dots in a sea of red, and by red I mean very conservative, very pro-gun, pro-Second Amendment legislatures. This sounds like an uphill battle. What you’re calling for.
And I know it’s worth it. I don’t want to because we all know it’s worth it. But I want to understand why you think country musicians are in any way uniquely positioned to have this conversation.
Well, and I want to appreciate you challenging this, Audie. The first thing I want to say is that changing segregation was an uphill battle in Tennessee. And when Nashville in the early 1960s, in the late 1950s, put its first foot forward, this was the proving ground; other parts of the South were too unsafe. But people gathered in Nashville, a city of colleges, a city of progressive thought in the South, to engage in nonviolent civil disobedience. This is where John Lewis came. This is where the Freedom Riders’ first stop was.
The Freedom Riders received their training from James Lawson and Vanderbilt University.
All of that training at Fisk and Vanderbilt happened right here in Nashville, Tennessee. That shows our ability as a community to exist outside of the state. Now, just like in that time, the state legislator said, ‘What are you talking about?’ That’s not going to happen in our state. We cast the deciding vote on women’s suffrage. I mean, Tennessee has been a bellwether place in these two other instances of great significance. This is the third. This is the part of the death knell of the old South, which is going to have to change. You know, 50 years from now I think we’re going to be looking back at these couple of years as the deciding time for an assault weapons ban in the United States.
Again, I want to bring it to the question about country music artists, especially mainstream ones, who, given what we know about the music, number one, have been socially punished for activism by what we call Music Row, by music radio, and by country music radio in particular, which still has a very kind of strong grip in a way programmers do, and even recent history. Right. When you think about the Dixie Chicks, etc., their whole story is a story of being ostracised for their activism.
You know, for a guy like me, I’m not beholden to too many people at all, but I’m not mainstream. I’m not on the Jumbotron, you know. I’m not at the awards show with the top ten performers of the year.
Do you need those people for the movement you’re talking about?
They have a really far reach and the power to accelerate an inevitable movement to change this for our kids. And I’m asking them through this piece and also face-to-face in my community, through conversations of text. You know, I’ve reached out to so many singers in the past two weeks.
And what kind of text do you send?
Hey, I’m reaching out to my Nashville music community in the wake of the shooting to share this story I wrote that was published today in The Times. If you get a sec, please take a look.
What’s been the most positive response? Which has been the most frustrating one?
The most frustrating one is silence. I say in the op-ed piece that I think silence is complicity. I went into the studio, and I recorded a new song on the subject. Since the shooting, which was only two weeks ago, there have been so many ways to be engaged with this terrible story and its powerful solution.
I mean, the reason why I’m asking is because your op-ed said something pretty specific, right? That there are artists who are tired of being at the kind of mercy of the whims of fearmongers, you said, and that they’re ready to speak to an impressionable audience. And because other genres, like we mentioned hip hop earlier or pop, do wade into societal issues. They can be confrontational about politics. It’s not like there isn’t a model out there. So I guess what would it take, do you think, for people in your industry? To start to do something similar, which is, in effect, what you’re calling for.
It’s just beginning, and it’s, I think, in its infancy, but it’s already started.
And so it’s about fanning the flames and building a big bonfire out of what’s already crackling kindling. For example, we’ve got a benefit concert here in Nashville that supports Covenant School. And when you look at the roster, who’s on the marquee? It’s not the usual Americana folks who always say, ‘You know, we stand with kids; we stand up against gun violence.’ Instead, it’s number one chart toppers. They are there. They have taken a stand.
But is it because it’s going to be a safe space from politics? If it’s a moment of a memorial, is that what makes it okay for a big artist to be there? Right. Because nobody’s going to get up and say we should have gun control.
There’s nothing but up here because we have started at the very baseline where music coming out of Nashville on the radio says nothing about violence against children in our schools or about the need to rethink the types of weaponry that are associated with the Second Amendment. Kelsea Ballerini talked about it on an award show. These are the kinds of things that, when somebody takes one step and the movement can quickly follow it, then the next step isn’t as hard to make. And what I’m asking for is that next step. You know, I’ve gotten a lot of feedback from my audience. And like I say in an op-ed piece, you know, I see the NRA sticker on the back of a lot of trucks blaring my tunes. So, you know, and we’re out on the road with Hank Jr this summer. So, I mean, I’m used to playing to an audience that is our country folk. But I love my country folk audience. And I want to be able to be real with them. I can move freely in both of the spaces that the two big silos in the country. Like, I might go to work in one silo and come home to the other one. And I’m good with that because I love those people.
Could you please share your message for those artists who remain hesitant?
Country music has a wonderful destiny in these times to swing out past the fences that have corralled it in so tightly. I firmly believe in the potential of this genre. And I believe that it has the power to carry that truth. You know, it’s very much rooted in a gospel tradition of the lamentation, the calling out to the great spirits. Help us, Lord. We’re just your children. We don’t know shit. We’re dying down here. Help!
Can you talk about the song that you’ve written out of this moment?
New material? You know, generally, just like I’m in a songwriting mood here, I’m in a moment in time with a lot of different opportunities as a writer to engage in this, whether it’s, you know, writing the right caption for a photograph on Instagram or writing an op-ed piece for The New York Times or being on this podcast with you, Audie. There are so many ways to choose my words right now and try and have them be resonant for the pain that we’re feeling in Nashville, Tennessee, and around the country because we are just so tired, parents, that our kids are not safe in their schools. What that means for me as a songwriter is that I also have the chance to write new music about this and to put my money where my mouth is. So I got a new song that’s coming out called Louder Than Guns. That’s it. Yeah, I just recorded it two days ago.
Give me a sense of the tune or lyrics.
Well, gosh, I feel like I shouldn’t have even brought it up because it’s so…anytime you get one, you know, people are cagey about their new stuff!
You’re dealing with a dude who wept through the whole songwriting process. Let me sing it for you.
All right. woke up this morning. It was Groundhog Day. I saw the same black veil on a crying face and a flag flying halfway. This time it was people I know gunned down in a minute or so. Only God knows when it’ll stop. But thoughts and prayers aren’t enough. Louder than guns. More powerful than bullets flying. Is the voice rising up saying it’s about time to put the last nail in the coffin, put the last body in the ground, calling on every town to shout? Louder than guns There’s a law on a dusty scroll.
Ketch Secor is the father of two kids in Nashville, Tennessee. He’s also a singer, songwriter and a founding member of the band Old Crow Medicine Show.
Now The Assignment is a production of CNN Audio. Our producers are Madeleine Thompson, Jennifer Lai, Lori Galarreta, Carla Javier, and Dan Bloom. Our associate producers are Isoke Samuel and Allison Park. Our senior producers are Matt Martinez and Haley Thomas. Dan Dzula is our technical director. Steve Lickteig is our executive producer. Special thanks to Katie Hinman. I’m Audie Cornish and thank you for listening.
I’m louder than guns. Oooooo. Louder than guns. I don’t want to wake up on another Groundhog Day. No, I don’t want to hear another rat-a-tat-tat-tat echoed down the hallway. ‘Freedom’s just another word for letting every voice be heard, every heart, every hand. Every town takes a stand. Louder than guns. More powerful than bullets flying. Is the voice rising up, saying it’s about damn time? We put the last nail in the coffin. We put the last body in the ground. I’m calling on every town. Louder than guns.
Sending that one out to Louisville today.
Ketch, thank you so much for sharing that with us.
Yeah, we got it. We got to. We got to do it, y’all.
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