Sepia Tones: Exploring Black Appalachian Music—E6: Hip-hop in the Heart of Appalachia

Dr. William Turner and Dr. Ted Olson talk to Geonoah Davis and Kelly Thompson, two artists whose hip-hop sounds are expanding traditional ideas about music in Appalachia. Borrowing from a generations-old African American heritage of spoken word expression, rap and hip-hop echo a long narrative tradition of African American cultural survival against all odds. These original historical elements are deeply rooted in the fabric of Appalachia, blending into the backdrop of the region's musical character yet revived and brought forward again by these fresh creative talents with their contemporary styles.

Geonoah Davis, known by the artistic name geonovah, was born and raised in Big Stone Gap, VA, in the heart of Appalachia's coal and iron industry. He wasn't the first rapper in his family, and early collaborations with his cousin RKMITCH allowed him to develop his powers of poetry into an artistry for hip-hop lyric and verse.

Kelly Thompson, a.k.a Pookie, also hails from Big Stone Gap but spent his early childhood in North Carolina. Friends since middle school, he and Geonoah have made music together for many years—Kelly creating beats and Geonoah writing lyrics. Kelly evolved his talents to include music production, learning from local producers in his area.

Dr. William Turner is a long-time African American studies scholar and retired Distinguished Professor of Appalachian Studies and Regional Ambassador from Berea College. He was also a research assistant to Roots author Alex Haley and co-editor of the groundbreaking Blacks in Appalachia. In 2021, Turner received Western Carolina University’s individual Mountain Heritage Award in recognition of his outstanding contributions to Southern Appalachian studies. His memoir called The Harlan Renaissance, available from West Virginia University Press, was awarded the prestigious Weatherford Award at the 2022 Appalachian Studies Association Conference.

Dr. Ted Olson is a music historian and professor of Appalachian Studies at East Tennessee State University. He is the author of many books, articles, reviews, encyclopedia entries, and oral histories. Olson has produced and compiled a number of documentary albums of traditional Appalachian music including On Top of Old Smoky and Big Bend Killing, both from Smokies Life. His work has received a number of awards, including nine Grammy nominations. The East Tennessee Historical Society honored Olson with its Ramsey Award for Lifetime Achievement in 2021.

Music featured includes:

1.    “John Henry” performed by Amythyst Kiah and Roy Andrade from GSMA’s (now Smokies Life's) album Big Bend Killing

2.    “Takin’ Me Over” performed by geonovah for the album No Options: Hip-Hop in Appalachia, used courtesy of June Appal Recordings

3.    “S&S” performed by geonovah for the album No Options: Hip-Hop in Appalachia, used courtesy of June Appal Recordings

4.    “Black Lives Never Mattered” by RKMITCH featuring geonovah, vocals mixed by Pookie 

Transcript

Sepia Tones, Episode #6
“Hip-hop in the Heart of Appalachia”
Hosts: Bill Turner, Ted Olson
Guest: Geonoah Davis and Kelly Thompson

[Guitar and banjo music and singing / "John Henry" by Amythyst Kiah and Roy Andrade from Big Bend Killing]

Geonoah Davis
I don't think there's a complete Appalachian sound yet, but I think we're in the process of making it. I think we're trying to create that sound and it's coming. And I feel like it mostly stems from, like, the Southern sound of hip-hop and the East Coast sound of hip-hop and then with, like, the other flares of just all the other music we've listened to throughout our lives.

Karen Key
Welcome to Smoky Mountain Air and our special mini-series Sepia Tones: Exploring Black Appalachian Music. I’m Karen Key, and in this episode, our mini-series co-hosts Dr. William Turner and Dr. Ted Olson will be speaking to Geonoah Davis and Kelly Thompson, two artists whose hip-hop sounds are expanding traditional ideas about music in Appalachia.

This mini-series is funded through the African American Experiences in the Smokies project in collaboration with Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Dr. Turner and Dr. Olson spoke with Geonoah Davis and Kelly Thompson on an online video chat.

[Rap vocals and backing music / “Takin’ Me Over” by geonovah]

Ted Olson
Welcome to Sepia Tones: Exploring Black Appalachian Music. I’m Ted Olson. On this episode, my co-host Dr. Bill Turner and I will have a conversation with two young men from the heart of Appalachia who helped to pioneer hip-hop music in their communities—Geonoah Davis, who goes by the artistic name geonovah, and Kelly Thompson, who goes by the name Pookie. They will share their stories of making hip-hop music in their communities and taking their hip-hop music beyond Appalachia to the world. Geonoah and Kelly are from Wise County, VA, just over the border from Harlan County, KY, where Dr. Turner grew up. 

In 2023, there was a celebration marking the 50th anniversary of hip-hop music, which hearkens back to a performance from August of 1973 when an artist started to experiment with incorporating traditional African American sounds with new concepts of music making where the DJs had an active role in shaping the music. But rap preceded hip-hop and borrowed from a generations-old African American verbal tradition of the spoken word.

Dr. Turner and I both learned about geonovah and Pookie from a West Virginia Public Radio broadcast from Inside Appalachia. There was an episode in June of 2021 featuring the music and the stories of geonovah and Pookie. And we loved learning about their music, loved hearing their stories, and we’re proud to feature them on an episode of Sepia Tones.

Since we recorded this interview, Dr. Turner and I, inspired by geonovah and Pookie, raised funds to create a new album called No Options: Hip-hop in Appalachia. And this album features geonovah on two recordings and many of geonovah’s fellow hip-hop artists across Appalachia.

[Rap vocals and backing music / “Takin’ Me Over” by geonovah]

Bill Turner
Hey, Ted. How are you?

Ted Olson
I’m doing fine, Bill. Hope you’re doing well. Looking forward to talking with our guests, Geonoah and Kelly.

Kelly Thompson
Great to meet you.

Geonoah Davis
What's up, Kelly?

Kelly Thompson
What's up, man?

Bill Turner
Well, good guys. We just wanted to talk to you all about your work as rap artists, insofar as how that fits into traditional music in Appalachia. And we just are so glad to be able to talk to y'all because, I can remember as an old man being a little concerned, probably, I would say 45 years ago at least, when my children started listening to rap music. I thought they had lost their minds, you know, because there was a lot of vulgarity, [laughter from others] you know? There was a lot of vulgarity. And, I said, Oh Lord, I have to save my children from this.

Kelly Thompson
Oh Lord. [laughter]

Bill Turner
Yeah, so, you know, as a 75-year-old person, I have watched, the evolution of hip-hop as a culture, because my background training is in anthropology. And, so, insofar as rap is part of hip-hop culture… I just can't wait to hear you all tell me more about how you see your upbringing. Let's pretend you guys are robins in a nest, and your nest where you were nurtured was in a tree on Black Mountain at the top of where Virginia and Kentucky come together, so that your lives—like mine—was nested in this mountain. How did you see this big eagle that came through the sky with the word “hip-hop” written on it and “rap” written on it when it landed on top of you in Big Stone Gap, Virginia. Just kind of walk me through how you got interested and how you became captivated, if you will, by hip-hop.

Kelly Thompson
Noah, I'll let you go first, if you'd like. 

Geonoah Davis
Okay. Yeah. So, when I was a kid, I can just remember me and my brother Kaya, we would just be riding around with my dad and he had this big CD collection of all kinds of like 90s hip-hop and, like, early 2000s hip-hop music. And the main ones I can remember is Kanye West…

Bill Turner
Oh, sure.

Geonoah Davis
His early, like, Late Registration and Lupe Fiasco. He just played a lot of that and a lot of Outcast and stuff. So, like, from an early age to, like, five, six, seven years old, I can just remember hearing that in, like, the backseat of his car. And then, whenever he left, when I was a when I was a teenager, I started writing poetry and stuff. And I still had those, like, hip-hop roots. So, I just kind of went throughout high school, just listening to more and more music, like, different kinds, but still listening to a lot of the new rap from the new artists that would come out. And then, whenever I was about to move to Johnson City when I was 20, my cousins had started making music. So they just asked me to start making music with them too. And it just kind of went from there. 

Bill Turner
And you, Kelly, what about yourself? What are your roots in terms of hip-hop in Big Stone Gap, Virginia?

Kelly Thompson
So I was originally born and raised in North Carolina. I moved to Virginia—Wise County—around third grade, fourth grade. But prior to that, I remember my dad also had a huge CD collection and he used to be a DJ when he was younger. So, he used to cut it up on two different turntables. He was very good at it, and he loved playing music for me, and we would just go on car rides just to listen to music.

I'd be like, “Dad, where are we going?” And he'd be like, “Just going for a ride.” Play some music. Play Jay Z. He would play Tribe Called Quest. He would play De La Soul. A bunch of other classics that I really fell in love with at the beginning. 

And his background before the DJing was he was a piano player in church. So he played piano at home. I eventually started to learn how to play piano as well. And it just kind of took me from there.

Bill Turner
Is the rap you guys do, is it mainly improvisational or do you actually write it down and commit it to memory and go from there? 

Geonoah Davis
As far as, like, the process—me writing my own music—I do commit mine to memory because, like, I can't really, like, freestyle. I can't just say something and then, like, let it sit there and maybe have it work or not. I have to sit down with whatever the beat I'm listening to, I have to sit down with it and actually listen to it multiple times and write down whatever it is I'm feeling or trying to say. 

Bill Turner
Tell me if I'm wrong. I understand that rap grew out of the environmental conditions under which kids were growing up in the South Bronx in New York City, is that right? How did rap come out of Big Stone Gap? What’s the difference in rap in Big Stone Gap and the rap in “Big Bronx Gap”?

Kelly Thompson
Resources.

Geonoah Davis
Yeah, mm-hmm.

Bill Turner
Interesting. I never would have thought you'd said that.

Kelly Thompson
People in New York, the inner city, they probably have a lot more life experiences, whether it be… because you're around so many people, so many people in those cities that you’re forced to interact with them. You’re forced to see good things happening, you're forced to see bad things happening. More than likely you will be involved in good things, you'll be involved in bad things. And that's not always, but there's just more stuff going on. Whenever it comes to down south where we have 3,000 people living in town as opposed to 150,000 in a town, you kind of just stick to the stories that—well, not necessarily stories, but you go to school, you hang out with your friends, most likely you get out of school, go to practice with those same friends, and then come home and talk to those same friends in town.

So—and I'm not saying it's different there, but there's less things for us to do here. So, our stories are much different than those from the inner cities, from other places. Also, the availability for music equipment, studios. To even reach a fan base, like, we have 3,000 people in our town, and we're trying to convince them to like our music as opposed to a much larger population that you can try to, I guess, get your name out to.

I would say that's my perspective.

Bill Turner
Geonoah, what do you think?

Geonoah Davis
Yeah, all that, all that, and to add, like, with the lack of availability to certain things, like venues to perform at or people to get your music out to, like, I've just had to go about it, in a really slow pace, kind of. And it's just kind of made me, every time I release a song, I'm sitting down and assessing what works and how it works and whatnot. And then also when I first started making music, like, I didn't have, I didn't have the stuff to make my own music, like, I had to, I had to go to my friend's dorm room to record, or then whenever I moved to Johnson City, I finally was able to get my own stuff, but then it's a matter of, as we're creating music throughout the years, we have to keep evolving with the music that's being put out.

So, it's just a matter of getting—being able to get—more stuff that you need, especially because having a home studio in this day and age is almost, like, you need to be able to record on a consistent basis or you're going to fall behind with all the content that's constantly pushed out.

So as far as, like, Big Stone Gap, Southern rap is just different. We have to talk about different stuff, especially if you're trying to be honest about your lived experience. You can't just constantly say just random stuff that you're not doing because the 3,000 people in town know who you are.

If you're sitting here saying all this BS, they're like, “Okay, well, we're not gonna listen to that. Like, he's a poser. He’s just saying stuff” And then if you don't have like that local fan support… It can come and go, like, you can get, like, other people to listen to you before you get local support, but the route I've had to take is it's a lot easier to just be myself and be authentic to who I am and what I want to talk about. I talk about the stuff I've been through. I talk about relationships and my feelings and everything. And it's a lot better to do that and have the people around you gravitate to you than just trying to put out music for the masses and hoping it clicks, because either it does and it doesn’t.

Ted Olson
You had used the word “authentic” experience and can you say anything of if in the world of hip-hop and rap if there is such a thing as inauthentic or if there's kind of a gradation of experience that creates a music that feels more real and more based on lived experience and also tradition?

I mean­­­­, this is certainly the case in say, country music. People debate back and forth about what's more authentic in terms of country music expression. Just kind of curious how that works in your musical realm—if there's like a mantle of carrying on the tradition, so to speak of hip-hop and rap that you aspire to do.

Geonoah Davis
Mm-hmm. Well, for me, I don't know a ton about the origins and, like, all the people that came together to help make hip-hop what it was in the early stages of it. So I can't really speak to how I go about pushing that forward. I guess for me, it's just about—like, I respect hip-hop as a culture of its own and what it's done for the entire world.

And my role in that, for me, is to keep just being as honest as I can about what I've been through. And I'm sure there are artists that just make music to make it. And, like, a lot of music is a copy of what's already been done. So I guess that's where, like, if you're thinking of stuff that's, like, inauthentic, to me it's, like, stuff that people are just making music for the pursuit of money, and just making it so they can say they rap and do flashy stuff or whatever. And, like, that just can't be me because, like I said, like, people know who I am and, like, I want people to know who I am.

I want people to, like, hear my music or see me and be like, oh, that's a guy that's actually speaking about stuff that's, like, relatable in the sense that they've been through it. They've probably been through it, because we know he's been through it. So then it gives you a sense of where I grew up, because I like to talk about that a lot.

And the more I talk about, like, where I come from and like where I want to be, I just feel like people will move to that easier­.

[Rap vocals and backing music / “Black Lives Never Mattered” by RKMITCH featuring geonovah]

Geonoah Davis
That one was called “Black Lives Never Mattered.” It's a song with me and my cousin Ray. He's a DJ down here, but he also makes music. Kelly mixed the vocals and whatnot. Ray started writing to it, it was like shortly after George Floyd was killed. And he sent it to me, and everything I said, I wrote all of that for it. I was just kinda talking about, like, just haven't mattered in the eyes of most and trying to take different pieces from history and talk about that too.

My cousin, he goes by RKMITCH as his artist name. He's one of my cousins that got me into making music because he had already started making it. And then in 2016, he was working on, like, a short project, like six or seven songs. And he asked me if I wanted to be on it. I had been writing poetry for years. And so, that was the first verse I ever recorded, was on one of his songs. And then I started making music myself. So yeah, I owe a lot, I owe a lot to Ray as far as, like, why I started making music, because without him and without my cousin Des and without my cousin Savage and our friend Ajavius Singer, I wouldn't have been making music. 

And then when Kelly started making music, it just started going from there.

Ted Olson
We talk about podcasts—this is an opportunity to for us to share stories and to learn from each other. And, we're learning. I think, can't speak for Bill but I'm learning a great deal just hearing you talk about your music and how it relates to your life. And I appreciate your perspective on that.

Music's that sublime expression of one's experience, and that's why it's so moving to people. It takes people to a place they've not been before. And, you know, when I heard the recording of your music on Inside Appalachia, I was very, very moved by that. And both you guys, you had a compelling story about music—what it means to you and how it gives you aspiration towards being the person you want to be, and we should all aspire to be the best of who we can be. And music can take us there.

Geonoah Davis
Absolutely. 

Bill Turner
Let me ask a question that doesn't only reflect on how naive I am about it, but it's also curious to me. So when you guys go into East Tennessee to Johnson City, and when you go around Southwest Virginia, and particularly when you go to Huntington and Charleston, there's a, seems like a critical mass of black rappers in West Virginia. I mean, that's what a critical mass of black people in our parts of Appalachia are in West Virginia. So if there's an East Coast—West Coast strain of rap, is there an Appalachian strand? And if you could listen to the person, you would know immediately, Oh, that's coming out of Appalachia or that's about Appalachia.

Kelly Thompson
You go ahead, Noah.

Geonoah Davis
I was about to say, I feel like there's not like a specific sound per se because all the artists I've heard out of, like, the Appalachian region, like we don't sound alike. Most of our music sounds different. Like, I go over to Johnson City, Tennessee, and I have a couple friends over there making music and we can collaborate because we are on the same page as far as, like, how we want to present our music, and that's being our honest selves. But our production and beat selection isn't the same, so… it's different. 

And then up in West Virginia, I only know about Shalem. That's the only artist from West Virginia that I really know. And his music is very different from mine. Like, his is much more upbeat. He does, like, a lot of interaction with the crowd because they can do chants and stuff with his kind of music. And It's just different. 

So like, but mine is a lot more… I say a lot of words in my raps. Like, I put a lot of words in my bars and whatnot. Cause I'm just constantly trying to put a story together­. 

So like, I don't think there's a complete Appalachian sound yet, but I think we're in the process of making it. I along with my friends and the people, like, we know and are connecting with and networking with, I think we're trying to create that sound and it's coming. And I feel like it mostly stems from, like, the southern sound of hip-hop and the East Coast sound of hip-hop and then with, like, the other flares of just all the other music we've listened to throughout our lives.

Bill Turner
I live in Houston, they have their own Bun B—you know. there's a there's a sound here in Houston. And maybe I just want to make sure that Appalachia stands out. That's my heart and soul.

And so I'm glad to hear you say that you sense and you hear, you collaborate with people regionally so that maybe the Appalachian sound as the environmental context will emerge or is emerging.

Geonoah Davis
Mm-hmm.

Bill Turner
I think that's, you know, how do you set yourself apart? You know, you guys are from a particular part of the world called Appalachia, and we've been looking at Black musicians in Appalachia in terms of their contribution to traditional Appalachian music. And now we're looking and we're with two people who are the embodiment of the Appalachian-ness of rap. That's what y'all do. I listened to what was on West Virginia Public Radio. I've been reading more and more about you, and I know you're going to stand out more than you're doing already. So, I think much of what you guys are trying to do.

In southwestern Virginia / eastern Tennessee / southern West Virginia, are there weekly rap performances that people can go to? I mean, is rap really something I can go to Friday night in in some part of Central Appalachia?

Kelly Thompson
Nuh-huh.

Geonoah Davis
No. That's the whole thing. We don't have enough space. Like, there are venues for music. Like, there's venues for people to do music, but a lot of them are family-oriented or they're only acoustic, or they don't want people cussing or whatever. And, like, that's what, like, rap is—it's honest and it's… Sure it can be vulgar and crass, but it's also… that's what the world's done to us, that's what the world has done to black folk, like, that's what the world has done to minorities. We have no choice but to give our art in the rawest form possible. And that's what makes hip-hop so cool. But no, there's not, there's not places for that. Like, there's just, like, there's a couple. Like, there's some places that will let you do rap somewhere, like, but you have to drive an hour or two.

Kelly Thompson
There's not much at all that is accessible for hip-hop and rap.

Geonoah Davis
Yeah.

Bill Turner
In Central Appalachia?

Kelly Thompson
Yes.

Geonoah Davis
Yeah, we don't have the space for it. People aren't letting us have the space for it. So like, we have to make the space for it ourselves.
­­­­­­­­­
And that's the, that's the focus these next couple years for me is, like, continuing to put out music, but also I'm trying to get space for our people, because I've had plenty of teenagers ask me personally, like, Hey, what equipment do I need to start making music; do you know how I can make music. Like, all this, because they want to. Because, I mean, some just want to do it because it's cool, I'm sure, but there are some people that, like, it's an outlet. It's an outlet to write stuff down and get that out, put it on, put it on paper, put it on the mic, and then get it, get that out so people can hear it. But we just don't have the venues for people to be able to perform it, to practice performing. We don't have the accessibility, like, we just don't have it.

Bill Turner
Well, you know, Ted here knows a lot about the evolution of a space in Johnson City at ETSU, where they literally—and Ted, you correct me if I'm wrong—that very statement Geonoah and Kelly were just making about, we don't have a space, we don't have this, we don’t have… Wasn't there a time when people were saying that, and you guys said, we'll create this space at East Tennessee State University for bluegrass music, Ted? Didn’t that essentially…

Ted Olson
Yeah, absolutely.

Bill Turner
I guess what I'm just kind of leaning on is to say, Geonoah, don't give up on your dream about that.

Geonoah Davis
Oh, I'm not. Oh, no. No way.

Bill Turner
You know, keep working on it because there are people that are talented enough or have the resources to say, okay, let's figure it out.

Geonoah Davis
Mm-hmm.

Bill Turner
You know, it's almost like if you just keep thinking about it, you just keep dreaming about it, there can be a space carved out—in the same way it looks like you have on your t-shirt that says “Stay Project,” don't you? 

Geonoah Davis
Mm-hmm.

Bill Turner
Okay? So, same with getting young black people to stay in the mountains, keep your music in the mountains. Don't go anywhere. 

Kelly, you gotta move back home, man! We need you back here!

Kelly Thompson
[Laughs]

Bill Turner
You need to get back to Big Stone Gap tomorrow, tomorrow! Get back home.

Kelly Thompson
All right.

Bill Turner
Ted, I'm sorry. Go ahead. I just couldn't help but try to encourage them to stay in there and hang in there. We're gonna help them any kind of way we can.

Kelly Thompson
Absolutely.

Ted Olson
Well, you're absolutely right. On this podcast, we had an interview with Jack Tottle, who founded the bluegrass program at ETSU. That was 40 years ago. And as a result of that, people such as Amythyst Kiah have emerged in the American music scene. And she moved to Johnson City from Chattanooga and now is an internationally known artist. And she's learned a lot about Black music while studying music in general at ETSU. And of course, she has amazing talent. So, it's a matter, I think, sometimes of just encouraging people, giving them access to resources, and meeting other people who share their passion for music.

And, like you said, it's also a matter of giving people platforms, you know, access—giving them encouragement. And I will say, here's a little bit of optimism about including hip-hop on the on the campus here at East Tennessee State University. We did have a special exhibit at our museum dedicated to celebrating hip-hop music. And I think that's going to continue. A fellow named Daryl Carter, who's organizing a lot of that at ETSU, should be given a lot of credit for kind of bringing hip-hop music and culture into the academy here on campus. And those talks that Daryl gave about hip-hop music and culture in Appalachia were well attended. And I think he's going to continue a lot of that.

So just a, you know, a sense that maybe there's some energy being created to expand the appreciation of­­ regional music, you know, beyond bluegrass, beyond, you know, the traditional folk heritage of Appalachia to incorporate some other sounds and some other traditions.

And what you guys are doing absolutely needs to be part of that conversation. And we've got music venues, it's just a matter of bringing you guys into the spaces where you can share your perspectives, your music, your stories with people who may not understand hip-hop music. They may have their preconceived notions. But you guys can change that just simply by articulating your experiences and sharing your wonderful music with them.

So, I guess, like Bill said, it's just a matter of the society kind of opening up and giving you guys, you know, space to perform and to meet with us. This podcast, Sepia Tones, has been about conversations, about people talking and sharing stories and, you know, that's what we want to do in the academy, I think, is to create spaces for sharing stories and building that legacy and building the audience for it.

Bill Turner
Hey, Ted, remind me if you can when we had a conversation in Morgantown recently, and I was trying to remember the name of the GRAMMY Award-winning White country music singer who said that his heroes were Snoop Dogg and Jay Z. 

Ted Olson
It was Chris Stapleton.

Bill Turner:
You guys familiar with Chris Stapleton, huh?

Kelly Thompson
Mm-hmm.

Geonoah Davis
Yeah.

Bill Turner
Well, Chris made this comment about his indebtedness to Snoop Dogg and Jay Z, and he says, you know, I'm growing up a White boy on the “Hillbilly Highway” near Prestonsburg, Kentucky. That's about as out of way as you can get, man. And so, what Ted just said resonates so well with what we've been trying to do with this show. Because we all know that there are legions of White kids in Appalachia, and they listen to rap all the time. I mean, ultimately, we’re sharing this space called Earth, and we're listening to each other's music. And it's about the only thing that brings us together at one time—any time, for all times—is music.

And so, I think that's the beauty here of when you start talking about, as you mentioned a minute ago, the extent to which you try to incorporate the space that you guys grew up in Wise County. There's certainly something that is universal about what you’ve lived that a person sitting in Compton, California, you know, can say, Oh, I know where he's coming from. You know?

Geonoah Davis
Mm-hmm.

Bill Turner
I'd like to mention very quickly just as a context, when you said—I think it was you, Kelly—I used to think that my cousins who moved out of Coburn, Virginia, after high school, they moved to New York City. They moved to Harlem, 125th Street and Amsterdam Avenue. And when I—the first time I ever went to visit them, I was so anxious about it, because I thought they were going to be able to take me to all these exciting places in Harlem, that they would take me to the Apollo, and they were going to take me to the Empire State Building, and they were going to take me to see the Schomburg Collection, and all these things.

Well, you know what I learned about five minutes after I was up there with them? They stayed in their neck of the woods, too. They didn't have a clue where some places were 20 minutes away. And they also were afraid of everybody. I couldn't imagine living there. They would say to me, “Billy, you gotta stop speaking to everybody!”

Well, you know, that was just the way I was raised. I got up there with them and I would say, “How can you all ever make friends when everybody is a perpetual stranger? You're scared of each other.” And we're not scared of each other down here where it's only 300 of us, or 400 of us, or 4,000 of us. So, you might notice that their lives in these big cities is no more cosmopolitan…

Geonoah Davis
Mm-hmm.

Bill Turner
They live in little lonely spaces, and they're afraid to death to get on the subways. You know, and you could take off walking from Big Stone Gap to Lynch over the mountain at night, and the only thing I'd be scared of is you might run into a bear that would be just as afraid of you. So there's something good about the space you live in. And I encourage you to see the beauty in it, which I'm sure you already have, and do your best to continue to incorporate it and expand it into your work.

Geonoah Davis
Mm-hmm.

Kelly Thompson
Absolutely.

[Rap vocals and backing music / “S&S” by geonovah]

Ted Olson:
Well, guys, we want to thank you so much for being part of this podcast episode. We've taken a journey in Sepia Tones, visiting historical music, and it can't get more contemporary than what you guys are doing. So you've kind of brought our story into the present day with…

Bill Turner:
Full circle.

Ted Olson: 
Yeah, the great circle has been made and you’ve connected your art with ancient art of spoken poetry and brought in some contemporary themes.

Again, we want to, Bill and I want to thank you profusely for participating and certainly wish you all the success in the world with what you're doing.

Bill Turner: 
Okay, Kelly, we'll see you back home soon, son.

Kelly Thompson
[laughs] Alrighty. I appreciate you.

Geonoah Davis
Thank you so much, y'all. Have a good day!

Bill Turner
Thank y'all so much.

[Guitar and banjo music and singing / "John Henry" by Amythyst Kiah and Roy Andrade from Big Bend Killing]

Karen Key
Thank you to our guest hosts Dr. William Turner and Dr. Ted Olson. 

Dr. William Turner is a long-time African American studies scholar and retired Distinguished Professor of Appalachian Studies and Regional Ambassador from Berea College. He was also a research assistant to Roots author Alex Haley and co-editor of the groundbreaking Blacks in Appalachia. In 2021, Turner received Western Carolina University’s individual Mountain Heritage Award in recognition of his outstanding contributions to Southern Appalachian studies. His memoir called The Harlan Renaissance, available from West Virginia University Press, was awarded the prestigious Weatherford Award at the 2022 Appalachian Studies Association Conference.

Dr. Ted Olson is a music historian and professor of Appalachian Studies at East Tennessee State University. He is the author of many books, articles, reviews, encyclopedia entries, and oral histories. Olson has produced and compiled a number of documentary albums of traditional Appalachian music including On Top of Old Smoky and Big Bend Killing, both from Smokies Life. His work has received a number of awards, including nine Grammy nominations. The East Tennessee Historical Society honored Olson with its Ramsey Award for Lifetime Achievement in 2021.

[Rap vocals and backing music / “Takin’ Me Over” by geonovah]

Valerie Polk
Special thanks also to guests Geonoah Davis and Kelly Thompson. Under their artistic names geonovah and Pookie, these two young men developed their hip-hop skills here in Appalachia, both individually and collaboratively, and are helping to expand traditional ideas of music in the region.

Music featured in this episode includes:
"John Henry" performed by Amythyst Kiah and Roy Andrade from the album Big Bend Killing: The Appalachian Ballad Tradition; 

"Takin’ Me Over" and “S&S” both performed by geonovah for the album No Options: Hip-Hop in Appalachia, used courtesy of June Appal Recordings;

And “Black Lives Never Mattered” by RKMITCH featuring geonovah, vocals mixed by Pookie.

[Old-time guitar music from Old-Time Smoky Mountain Music and bird song]

Karen Key
Our theme music is from Old-Time Smoky Mountain Music, our Grammy-nominated music collection. Bird recordings by Mark Dunaway.

Thanks for listening!

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Smokies Life is an educational, non-profit partner of the National Park Service. We support the perpetual preservation of Great Smoky Mountains National Park by promoting greater public interest and appreciation through education, interpretation, and research. Learn more about our work and the benefits of membership by visiting our website at SmokiesLife.org