Old Crow Medicine Show

"But there was something strange and awesome about being in places like that," he adds, "and it made our pack really strong, too, because we were the only ones of us for miles around. We didn't hang out in the coffeehouses with the other bands, working on a press kit. We were riding around in the back of a car with hitchhikers that didn't speak for a thousand miles."

Secor says the surreal, often trying road Old Crow's members have traveled to get to a point where they can earn a living playing music and fill large theaters, clubs and auditoriums, makes relative luxuries like a tour bus that much more acceptable. He's grateful for the years of busking and the "traveling musical-salesman lifestyle," which he says helped the band develop "a backbone," but notes, somewhat wistfully, that those days are over.

"Nah, there's no more 'conversions' like that," he says, letting out a chuckle. "Playing on a street corner, you have to get people to stop; you have to get people to reach into their wallets, pull out money. That conversion is a real challenge, because you got nothing on 'em. All you got is your music and your voice and the strength of your band, the unity of your group and the strength of music as a whole. But when they've already paid twenty dollars to come in the door and there's a big line that wraps around into the alley, where there's a big diesel bus sitting there all heated up, with tinted windows and a big American flag on it...well, you sorta have to suspend that way of thinking."

Still, old habits die hard. "I try to busk a couple times every year, just for fun," Secor reveals. "I like to walk into bars in Cajun country and bring a fiddle, talk some broken French and try and follow along. I like to play music with people. I don't need there to be a thousand people out there freaking. Certainly, it's a privilege to have people come out, and I'm glad the people are there to make the show. But I didn't sign up for this 'cause of shows. The good times and the bad times, all of the music that was made, all of the strings that were broken, all the stubbed-out pencils that songs were scribbled with — all that stuff was going on, and it doesn't really matter what came out of it, what kinda gems were unearthed, but it was that process, the passion of playing music with my friends — that's what I signed up for."

For the singer and his bandmates, the appeal of being in Old Crow Medicine Show is clear. But when thinking about why the band's old-timey sound has attracted so many fans, the hoary cliche springs to mind: In an era of war-fatigue and media/technology overload, people yearn for the simpler times that this music represents. Agreeing with that notion to some extent, Secor believes the connection runs much deeper.

"I think that people hear our music and know our music from way back, in their hearts," he points out. "They know it's American music, and that somewhere down the line, they were making it, too. There's a recognition there that's pretty powerful. But, y'know, it's also just really fun to listen to, it's fun to groove to, to dance to, to sing along with and have a good time. Yeah, you can intellectualize it, and you can try to figure out the 'whys,' but in the moment of hearing live music, you don't do any of those things. You just dig it, man."