Voices That Carry: The Mission with Audie Cornish

I didn’t expect to be addressing another mass shooting episode so soon, yet here we are.

As a collective community.

This moment is captured from a vigil in Nashville.

Our gratitude goes to the artists who shared their musical talents. You are the guardians of such a profound gift.

I’ve been to Nashville before—specifically, not just as a memorial site after a mass shooting. I lived there for several years while covering the Southern region, and it’s not a large city. Its dominant music and publishing industries can make it feel even more close-knit, where everyone seems to know each other. So when First Lady Jill Biden visited the city for a vigil honoring the victims of the Covenant School shooting, it was almost certain that a country music artist would be present.

Will the circle remain 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. At the vigil, he wasn’t introduced, but that’s because the crowd already knew who he was—not just as a famous musician, but as a community member and a father of two school-age children. In fact, the school his kids attend in East Nashville, he co-founded in 2016. It’s called the Episcopal School of Nashville.

So I’m wearing two different hats here when a school shooting occurs in our town. It’s both as a parent and as someone involved in the school community. When a country singer finishes a tour, chances are, at 8:00 a.m. on a Monday after a big weekend, they’re in the drop-off line taking their kid to school in Nashville, Tennessee. But when it happens close to home, it feels different.

And the sky grew heavy in the sky.

Ketch Secor recently wrote an op-ed for The New York Times that caught our attention, titled “Country Music Can Lead America Out of its Obsession with Guns.” He calls on country musicians to openly address gun culture with their audiences. I invited him on the show to discuss his op-ed—can country music truly help steer the U.S. out of this gun debate? What challenges might a musician face if they take a stand? And what’s it like living at the center 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 prompted you to write your op-ed, but can you take me back to that day? Where were you when you heard the news?

It was two weeks ago on a Monday at 10:13 a.m. I received a text from our school attorney saying, “I’m so sorry,” and that’s all it said. There was also a prayer hand emoji, which stands out.

Getting a message like that—or the obligatory “are you okay?” we all send during a shooting, especially at a school—triggers what? Panic. Fear. What do you feel?

It’s a mix of everything—concern for your kids, for someone else’s kids. The head of the school was killed. The connections between our school and the tragedy are deeply felt. As a community member in Nashville, there’s a shocking realization: this horrific event that happens in other towns has now come to ours, to our children, to the most sacred place of all.

Even more so because it didn’t happen at a public school or a large university. It happened at a small Christian primary school, similar to the one you founded. There are clear connections.

Yes. While our schools are different in many ways and serve different populations, we all share a common purpose—to nurture and protect children. Every school, whether public, private, or charter, is dedicated to ensuring kids are safe, loved, and guided. That’s a fundamental principle for me.

Can I ask about your children? How old are they, and do they attend the school you founded?

Yes, they do. They’re 9 and 11 years old.

Did the school you founded go into lockdown? What measures were taken?

No, our school wasn’t in lockdown, but nearby schools were. The hardest part that first day was the message sent to parents: “Your children haven’t been told yet. The staff knows, the teachers know, but we want to give you the chance to talk to your kids first.” Imagine the pickup line that day filled with tears.

Right. For those unfamiliar, school drop-offs and pickups are highly structured these days. It’s not like the ’90s when kids could just walk out. Now it’s a supervised handoff.

Exactly, Audie. You must be a parent yourself.

The contrast is striking: children full of life and joy, while parents are filled with grief and sadness. It’s a powerful yet heartbreaking scene.

It means standing at the curb, waiting for your child, seeing every parent’s face filled with worry, every teacher holding back tears. Yet the children still feel safe. But as parents, we all know that no child is truly safe anymore because this tragedy has reached our town, our kids, and our community.

I’d like to start with your most famous song, “Wagon Wheel.” If people look you up, that’s probably the first song they’ll find. You even mentioned it in your op-ed. Tell me about your career when you wrote it.

“Wagon Wheel” is definitely my most successful song.

Heading down South to the Land of the Pines. I’m on my way to North Carolina, gazing up.

It was a collaboration with Bob Dylan. I wrote it when I was 17, attending a prep school in New England. I had just started playing the banjo.

Rock me mama like a wagon wheel. Rock me mama, any way you feel. Hey mama rock me.

You mention that your most famous song is often played in trucks with NRA stickers. Why highlight that?

Making the kind of music I do—with a fiddle and banjo—means engaging with a community that might have different views. It’s not just about my background. There’s a train passing by right now—it’s part of the Nashville soundscape.

I remember the train. Yeah.

Trains are a common sound here in Nashville.

Just keeping the podcast going adds some atmosphere and reflects what I’m talking about. The trains pass by, and the trucks have NRA stickers. Growing up, I saw Confederate flags everywhere. This is the South, and it’s different from other parts of the country, for better or worse. But that’s just how it is.

When discussing politics in Nashville, people often use the phrase, “This is the South,” to explain a lot of things.

It’s a phrase that covers a multitude of aspects.

Yes. Regardless of intent, it’s often used to explain away certain cultural norms, like gun culture, which has long been a part of Southern identity. But we’ve seen change before, like with the Confederate flag, and we can apply those lessons to gun culture as well.

And that change is an essential step in the South’s evolution.

Country music and Americana genres have a unique connection with their audiences, much like hip-hop. These genres deeply tie into the listeners’ identities. But with that comes a set of unwritten rules that artists often feel they must follow.

Today’s country singer might not be from the South or have the traditional background. The audience, however, still holds onto the same attitudes.

Country music’s audience is diverse, including wealthy decision-makers who might not fit the typical image associated with the genre. This dynamic adds another layer to the conversation about gun culture.

Country music serves as a safe space where political debates and divisive issues are avoided. Instead, it focuses on storytelling and nostalgia, which resonates deeply with listeners.

Even during difficult times like the pandemic, country music saw significant growth because it offered comfort through relatable stories.

People turn to it for solace.

Country music often deals in nostalgia, celebrating stories of the past. But how does this intersect with gun culture?

Artists like Johnny Cash and Hank Jr. sang about guns in their songs, often as a way to connect with their audience and maintain a sense of authority in a changing world. Yet, modern country music rarely addresses guns in the same way.

If modern country music avoids the topic, how does it reflect the reality of gun ownership today?

While artists might avoid explicit references to modern firearms, they still celebrate the tradition of gun culture through nostalgia. For example, songs about teaching a child to hunt. However, this avoids the harsh realities of gun violence in today’s America.

What is it like for artists like you to address this issue publicly?

People call me brave, but the real bravery belongs to the third-grader who pulled the fire alarm during the shooting. All I’m doing is using my platform to speak about what I see and feel.

I can see you’re emotional. Is that accurate?

Yes, I’ve cried for two weeks. Seeing children the same age as mine being buried, only for the news cycle to move on to other stories, it’s heartbreaking. This tragedy should mean something; it should lead to change.

We’ll hear more from Ketch Secor in a moment.

You’re advocating for a new movement led by cultural figures, not just politicians. Why do you believe Nashville can lead this change?

Nashville is uniquely positioned to lead a response to the school shooting epidemic.

Considering the Tennessee State House recently expelled two members for protesting gun policies, isn’t this an uphill battle?

Nashville is a progressive city, even if the state legislature doesn’t reflect that. I’m not looking to Tennessee to lead, but to Nashville.

But isn’t this challenging in a state with a conservative majority? It feels like a tough battle for such a progressive city.

I know it’s worth it. Changing segregation was also an uphill battle in Tennessee, and Nashville played a crucial role in the civil rights movement. We can do it again.

The civil rights movement found footing in Nashville in the late 1950s and early 1960s. It was a hub for nonviolent protest training and the Freedom Riders. This history shows Nashville’s ability to lead progressive change, even within a conservative state.

Nashville also played a key role in ratifying women’s suffrage. These moments in history show its potential to drive significant change.

Country music artists, especially mainstream ones, have faced backlash for activism, like the Dixie Chicks. What would it take for them to get involved in societal issues now?

Change is already beginning, even if it’s in its early stages. Benefits like the upcoming concert for Covenant School show that even top artists are stepping up, which can amplify the movement.

These events are safe spaces because they avoid direct political statements. For instance, a memorial might not include explicit calls for gun control.

We’ve started at a point where country music doesn’t address school shootings or gun control. Any step forward from here is progress. Small actions by artists can pave the way for bigger changes.

What’s your message to artists who are still hesitant?

I believe country music can transcend its current boundaries and carry the truth during these challenging times. It has the power to inspire and lead, rooted in its gospel tradition of calling out for change.

Can you share your new song inspired by these events?

I’ve written a new song called “Louder Than Guns,” recorded just two days ago. It’s my way of addressing the pain and advocating for change.

Can you give us a preview of the song or its lyrics?

I shouldn’t have mentioned it because new work is always delicate. But since I did, I’ll share it with you.

Woke up this morning, it was Groundhog Day. 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 ain’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, shout. Louder than guns. There’s a law on a dusty scroll.

Ketch Secor is a father, singer, songwriter, and founding member of Old Crow Medicine Show.

The Assignment is a production of CNN Audio. Our producers are Madeleine Thompson, Jennifer Lai, Lori Galarreta, Carla Javier, and Dan Bloom. Associate producers are Isoke Samuel and Allison Park. Senior producers are Matt Martinez and Haley Thomas. Dan Dzula is our technical director, and Steve Lickteig is our executive producer. Special thanks to Katie Hinman. I’m Audie Cornish, and thank you for listening.

Sending this out to Louisville today.

Ketch, thank you for sharing this with us.

We had to. We got to. We got to do it, y’all.