I never expected we would produce yet another episode centered on a mass shooting so quickly. But here we are.
Mayor John Cooper
00:00:06
As a community.
This footage is from a vigil held in Nashville.
Mayor John Cooper
00:00:10
Thank you to our artists for generously sharing their music. You are the guardians of that precious gift.
I have visited this city, not just as a memorial site after a mass shooting, but as Nashville itself. I spent a few years there covering the South, and while it’s not large, the prominence of music and publishing gives it an intimate feel, as though everyone knows each other. Therefore, when First Lady Jill Biden came to the city to attend a vigil for the victims of the Covenant School shooting, it was natural for a country music artist to be present.
Will the circle be unbroken?
By and by, Lord, by and by.
This is Ketch Secor, a founding member of the Grammy Award-winning band Old Crow Medicine Show. I didn’t receive an introduction at the vigil, which was fitting since everyone present already recognized him—not merely as a renowned musician but also as a community member and a father of two school-age children. In fact, he co-founded the Episcopal School of Nashville, where his kids go, in 2016.
So I wear two different hats when a school shooting occurs in our town—both as a parent and someone on the other side of the pickup line. When a country musician returns from touring, by 8:00 AM on the following Monday after a busy weekend, they are likely dropping their kid off at a school in Nashville, Tennessee. When it involves your home, it becomes personal.
And the sky lowered in the sky.
Ketch Secor recently penned an op-ed for The New York Times that stood out to us. Titled “Country Music Can Lead America Out of its Obsession with Guns,” he urges country musicians to openly discuss gun culture with their audiences. I wanted to invite him on the show to discuss this article—can country music genuinely guide the U.S. out of the gun debate? What are the risks for musicians in the genre if they choose to take a stance? And what is it like to be at the center of it all as a parent, educator, and musician in Nashville, Tennessee? This is The Assignment. I’m Audie Cornish.
The Covenant School shooting motivated you to write an op-ed for The New York Times. Can you take me back to that day? Where were you when you found out?
Sure, it was a Monday two weeks ago at 10:13 in the morning. I received a text from our school lawyer that read, “I’m so sorry,” and I had no clue what was happening, followed by a prayer hand emoji—it was striking.
Receiving an emoji like that or the usual “are you okay” that everyone sends after a shooting, especially at a school, hits you in a way. What is that feeling? Panic? Fear? What do you experience?
It’s all of the above. It’s about your kids and others’ kids. The head of the school was murdered. The connections between our school are vivid. It’s a shocking realization for us as Nashville community members: this is not just happening in other towns; it has come here, and tragically, it has affected our children in a place that is supposed to be safe.
It even struck close to your corner of the world, right? It wasn’t a public school or a major university; it occurred in a small Christian primary school, which you had a role in founding, right? It had personal connections.
Yes. Our schools serve different populations and vary considerably; however, ultimately we share the same purpose. Every school—public, private, charter—believes that children are our future and must be cared for, nurtured, and guided. That principle is fundamental to me.
Can I ask, how old are your children, and do they attend the school you founded?
Yes, they do. They are nine and eleven years old.
Did the school you founded go into lockdown? What actions did you all take as a result?
No, the schools near Covenant did, but the others in Nashville did not. The saddest thing about that first day was the message that stated, “Your children have not yet been informed.” The staff, teachers, and parents were all aware, but not the kids. The plan was to discuss it the next day, but they wanted to give parents a chance to talk to their kids first. If you can imagine the pickup line that day, anyone who has been through a school shooting in their community knows it was full of tears.
Right. For those unfamiliar with pickup and drop-off procedures, there’s an organized line where staff escort kids to the curb for pickup—no free wandering out. It’s not like the past when kids just left the building on their own. It’s a direct hand-to-hand passing off.
Exactly, Audie. You must have kids.
The contrast of vibrant, joyful children and grief-stricken parents meeting was incredibly powerful.
You’re standing on the curb awaiting your child, but every parent’s face is drawn with sadness.
Every parent is looking at the teachers anxiously, holding back tears, just as every teacher is. Yet every child continues to feel very safe. We all know as parents, though, that no child feels safe anymore because this tragedy is right in our backyard. It has come to Nashville and impacted us and our children.
I’d like to start with “Wagon Wheel,” as many might discover it first when they search for you. You also mention it in your op-ed. Where were you in your career when you penned it?
Absolutely. “Wagon Wheel” is my most recognized song.
Headed down South to the Land of the Pines. I’m coming my way to North Carolina, staring up.
It’s a collaboration with Bob Dylan. I wrote it when I was about 17 while attending a prep school up in New England known as Exeter, and I had just learned to play the banjo there.
So rock me mama like a wagon wheel. Rock me mama, any way you feel. Hey mama rock me.
You’ve noted that your most famous song, “Wagon Wheel,” often blares from trucks that sport NRA stickers. Can you elaborate on this?
The kind of music I create with fiddles, banjos, and harmonious singing immerses you into a community that might differ from your own background. It’s a unique aspect now…
I recall the train. Yes.
Trains frequently pass through Nashville.
Just keeping the podcast vibrant. It speaks to what I’m illustrating. Trains go by; trucks carry NRA stickers. During my youth, Confederate flags were commonplace. This is the South, y’all. The culture here differs from others parts of the nation, for better or for worse.
When discussing politics in Nashville, at some point, someone will invoke that phrase, “Well, this is the South.”
As if that phrase clarifies a lot of things.
Indeed. However, whether it’s intended to be that way or not, I believe we are undergoing significant evolution in the South, but remnants of the past still linger and need to be addressed. One such remnant is gun culture, often regarded as merely a fixture in this region. Yet, we’ve always possessed the strength to dismiss those remnants. One change has indeed been challenged effectively.
Change has occurred in one way, raising societal stakes and engaging with such essential conversations.
Absolutely. I view the transformation regarding gun culture as a step toward the South’s evolution.
In my mind, country and Americana genres align closely with their audiences. Similarly to hip-hop, where artists express cultural connections and their ties to music, country music parallels this. Consequently, many unwritten rules exist. Could you elaborate on how this manifests in contemporary country?
Of course. Today’s country artists may no longer originate solely from the South and could possess a college education. This shift has altered the stereotype of who typically sings country music. Notably, it’s not always the case that coal miners dominate the charts anymore, as traditional artists like Loretta Lynn, who we all love, don’t represent the current number one spot.
To clarify, the country music audience is often comprised of wealthier individuals who are decision-makers—research suggests the audience may appear quite different from common assumptions.
I didn’t intend to get into this, but I’m thrilled we have, Audie, because contemporary country music, especially on the radio, serves as a safe haven where political divisiveness is rarely discussed, and we don’t engage in substantial topics. Instead, we often share light on more trivial content.
This contributes to its popularity, right? During the pandemic, I heard streaming grew by 15%, surpassing other genres.
People seek that safe space.
Travel narratives abound; it’s very much about stories and intergenerational family tales. The songs that top the charts typically reflect these values about grandfathers’ virtues and how emulating those qualities could better society. Yet, this kind of hallmark idealism might not resonate with today’s realities, such as the pressures of working multiple jobs in a global economy while hoping that your child can afford out-of-state tuition. Nevertheless, country music largely revolves around nostalgia, serving as a vital antidote to the pain observable online.
How does gun culture intertwine with that nostalgia and storytelling? You’re suggesting that it’s somewhat embedded in the music as well.
Johnny Cash’s “I Shot a Man in Reno to Watch Him Die” and Hank Jr.’s “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” are reflections of country music retaining authority in a transforming society. Guns play a role in that…
But do you think it’s evident in modern music? You don’t need to name any names, but do people discuss that?
No, Audie. That’s the essence of the issue; we avoid discussing guns. Should it come up, it’s typically framed as, “I took my boy hunting for the first time.” We continually dwell in nostalgia. However, the underlying reality is that many listeners possess AR-15s. The music offers a safe space where they aren’t confronted with today’s changing realities. Instead, they reflect on memories like, “I went bird hunting with Dad; I learned to fire and clean a weapon.” These are important cultural elements, but the safe space shields them from the present-day implications. We still anchor ourselves in the past.
So what’s it like for artists like you to address this subject?
People keep expressing gratitude for my bravery. But you know who’s really brave? The child who pulled the fire alarm during gunfire at our schools—a third grader. Now that’s courage. I’m just a singer writing and sharing what I see.
I don’t want to overanalyze the zoom, but are you getting emotional discussing that?
Absolutely. I’ve been in tears for two weeks; it’s… When such violence strikes your community and they bury children the same age as yours, and then the news quickly shifts focus to Stormy Daniels, it really shocks you. It leads you to ponder: do we not care about kids? Where’s the priority? This is my way of saying it’s not over and won’t be until those three children’s lives lost in the third grade signify something meaningful.
More from Ketch Secor shortly.
You’re advocating for a new movement originating from the South, partly led by cultural figures—not solely politicians. Why do you believe it could impact change?
Nashville is uniquely positioned to spearhead a response to the epidemic of school shootings.
But why do you feel that way? We recently witnessed members of the Tennessee State House being expelled due to protests regarding gun policy. They weren’t simply censured; they were expelled. So what makes you think meaningful change is possible?
Despite the current state legislature, Nashville itself is very progressive. I’m not suggesting that Tennessee will lead the charge; rather, it is Nashville specifically.
However, isn’t that the significant challenge? Across these states—not just Tennessee—there are blue towns amid a vast sea of red, representing conservative pro-gun, pro-Second Amendment legislatures. This feels like an uphill battle.
And it’s undoubtedly worth it. We all recognize that it’s worthwhile. Yet, I’m curious why you believe country musicians hold a unique position to engage in this dialogue.
I appreciate your challenging this, Audie. The first point I want to make is that the fight against segregation was arduous in Tennessee. In the early 1960s, when Nashville took the lead, it served as a crucial proving ground for change, while other areas of the South remained unsafe for such efforts. People congregated here—an educational hub—seeking to engage in nonviolent civil disobedience. This is where John Lewis fought for civil rights, and the Freedom Riders conducted their initial stop.
Their early activism and trainings occurred in Nashville, particularly at Fisk and Vanderbilt Universities. This showcases our capacity as a community to transcend state limitations. Much like that period, the state legislature may dismiss our concerns, but in Tennessee, we cast the decisive vote for women’s suffrage. Over the decades, Tennessee has been a significant bellwether in pivotal historical changes. This moment marks a potential breaking point for the old South, which will undeniably have to evolve. I believe that in around 50 years, we will look back at this era as pivotal for establishing a nationwide assault weapons ban.
I want to revisit the discussion on mainstream country artists. As we know, they’ve often faced repercussions for activism from figures in Music Row and country radio, which still maintains a tight grip. Recent experiences, such as those surrounding the Dixie Chicks, depict that kind of ostracism for being politically outspoken.
As for me, I don’t owe too many people much at all. I’m not a mainstream artist; you won’t find me on the Jumbotron or among the top ten performers at award shows.
Do you need those mainstream artists for the movement you envision?
They hold substantial influence and could significantly expedite the inevitable movement toward changing this for our children. I’m actively engaging them through both this op-ed piece and personal conversations—I’ve reached out to several artists in the past two weeks.
What sort of texts do you send?
“Hello, I’m reaching out to the Nashville music community in light of the recent shooting and sharing a story I wrote in The Times. If you have a moment, please take a look.”
What has been the most encouraging response, and what has been the most disappointing?
The most disheartening response has been silence. I asserted in my op-ed that silence is complicity. I recently recorded a new song on this subject, following the shooting that took place just two weeks ago, finding many ways to engage with this horrible narrative—powerful solutions can arise.
Your op-ed presents a clear challenge, stating that artists are fed up with the whims of fearmongers and are ready to influence an impressionable audience. Considering other genres, such as hip-hop and pop, engage with societal issues confidently, why do you think country music falls behind in this regard?
The change is beginning; it’s still in its infancy but it has already started.
We need to kindle that flame into a substantial movement. For instance, we’re organizing a benefit concert in Nashville for Covenant School, and when you look at the lineup, it consists of major chart-toppers—artists who typically refrain from vocalizing their stance on gun violence. Yet, they are now taking a stand.
But is it because this is a memorial that they find it to be a safe space from politics? It seems acceptable if the setting is a commemoration, right? No one will assert the necessity for gun control.
The current reality is that music originating in Nashville hasn’t addressed violence against children in schools or reconsidered the types of weaponry associated with the Second Amendment. Kelsea Ballerini touched on this at an awards show. Moments like these can ignite a movement when one person makes a statement, enabling others to follow suit. Thus, I encourage that next step. I’ve received considerable feedback from my audience; as I mentioned in my op-ed, I’ve noticed plenty of NRA stickers on trucks blaring my songs. I tour with Hank Jr. this summer, and I love my country folk audience. I aim to be authentic with them and comfortably navigate both spheres, transitioning from one environment to another.
What’s your message to those artists who remain hesitant?
Country music possesses a profound destiny in these times, allowing it to transcend beyond the limitations and reach out meaningfully. I firmly believe in this genre and its ability to convey truth. It’s deeply rooted in a gospel tradition of lamentation, a heartfelt call for assistance: Help us, Lord. We’re merely your children. We find ourselves in dire circumstances. Help us!
Can you discuss the new song you’ve created as part of this moment?
New material? I’m embracing this songwriting phase, with numerous opportunities to engage. Whether through crafting a fitting Instagram caption, an op-ed for The New York Times, or chatting with you here on this podcast, I am motivated to resonate with the pain we are collectively experiencing in Nashville and across the country. We are all exhausted by the fact that our children are not secure at school. Thus, for me as a songwriter, I have the opportunity to create new music about this and align my actions with my words. I have a new song titled “Louder Than Guns” that I just recorded two days ago.
Can you provide insight into the tune or lyrics?
Honestly, I feel like I shouldn’t have mentioned it, as many artists are protective of their new creations!
You’re speaking with someone who was emotional throughout the entire songwriting process. Let me share it with you.
Ketch Secor is a father of two children in Nashville, Tennessee. He is also a singer, songwriter, and founding member of Old Crow Medicine Show.
Now, The Assignment is produced by UJ 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 tuning in.
Sending that out to Louisville today.
Ketch, thank you immensely for sharing that with us.
Yes, we must act, y’all.
