{"id":46328,"date":"2025-09-11T14:07:28","date_gmt":"2025-09-11T14:07:28","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/musicianvoice.com\/index.php\/2025\/09\/11\/interview-with-casey-gomez-walker-and-spencer-tweedy\/"},"modified":"2025-09-11T14:07:28","modified_gmt":"2025-09-11T14:07:28","slug":"interview-with-casey-gomez-walker-and-spencer-tweedy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/musicianvoice.com\/index.php\/2025\/09\/11\/interview-with-casey-gomez-walker-and-spencer-tweedy\/","title":{"rendered":"Interview With Casey Gomez Walker and Spencer Tweedy"},"content":{"rendered":"


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\n\t\t<\/span>rowing up in small-town Missouri in the late 2000s and early 2010s, Casey Gomez Walker was an indie kid, searching out the lyrics to her favorite songs by the Shins and LCD Soundsystem, scrolling through posts on Tumblr, and dreaming of a wider world. That was enough to make her stand out as different in a culturally conservative environment where the high school football team was the biggest thing in town. \u201cLiterally, the quarterback started a rumor that I worshiped the devil, which is truly hilarious, because I looked like I do now,\u201d she says, laughing, over Zoom from her home in Chicago. \u201cIt\u2019s not like I was wearing dark makeup or anything. I just wasn\u2019t religious and sometimes wore black.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tIn fact, she wasn\u2019t a Satanist, nor even a goth \u2014 just an artistic spirit looking for the right place to flourish. That feeling of adolescent yearning and stubborn hope runs all through the songs on Last Missouri Exit<\/em>, the debut LP from Gomez Walker\u2019s band, Case Oats<\/a>. Released recently on Merge Records, it\u2019s a winning set of alt-country and folk songs with warm melodies, novelistic verses, and unassuming vocals that recall Daniel Johnston and Kimya Dawson. That humble but effective combination made Case Oats a word-of-mouth success at this past spring\u2019s SXSW<\/a>, and if you catch one of their shows this fall, you\u2019ll very likely walk out a fan.<\/p>\n

\n\tAfter getting through high school the best she could, playing trumpet in the marching band and writing opinion articles for the school newspaper, Gomez Walker moved to Chicago at age 18. \u201cI was glad to leave,\u201d she says. She hasn\u2019t been back to her hometown since, though she often visits her family in St. Louis, where they now live.<\/p>\n

\n\tWorking toward a creative writing degree at Columbia College Chicago, a small school with an emphasis on the arts, Gomez Walker applied herself to completing an \u201cuncomfortable coming-of-age novel,\u201d stockpiling scenes and imagery. Still, she didn\u2019t think of herself as a songwriter. That didn\u2019t happen until after she graduated college in 2016 and found herself surrounded by DIY bands in the city. \u00a0\u201cOne of my friends was like, \u2018You should buy an electric guitar,’\u201d she says. \u201cThat was my first try at that. And it got easier from there.\u201d<\/p>\n

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\n\tCase Oats \u2014\u00a0the name comes from an old screen name chosen in tribute to her late pet hamster \u2014 started two years later, after Gomez Walker connected with her drummer, co-writer, producer, and fianc\u00e9, Spencer Tweedy<\/a>. He\u2019s an accomplished indie musician in his own right, having recorded and toured extensively with his father, Wilco<\/a>\u2019s Jeff Tweedy<\/a>, as well as kindred spirits like Waxahatchee<\/a>. (That\u2019s him behind the kit on their excellent 2024 album Tigers Blood<\/em><\/a>, which we named one of the year\u2019s best<\/a>, as well as on his dad\u2019s superb upcoming triple LP, Twilight Override<\/em><\/a>.)<\/p>\n

\n\tAfter initially corresponding online (\u201cCasey slid into my DMs,\u201d he confides), the two of them quickly became partners in both music and life. Tweedy, joining the Zoom from Oregon in between Waxahatchee tour stops, recalls how an early draft of the song \u201cBluff\u201d<\/a> caught his interest right away: \u201cI just thought that there was something very tender about it, and I was excited and thrilled by the unusualness of the opening line,\u201d he says. \u201c\u2018Sorry I talked about hockey too much\u2019 \u2014 I\u2019m like, \u2018Who the fuck writes that?\u2019\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

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\t\t\t\t\tCase Oats in New York\u2019s Tompkins Square Park, from left: Scott Daniel, Max Subar, Casey Gomez Walker, Spencer Tweedy, Jason Ashworth<\/span><\/p>\n

\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tGriffin Lotz for Rolling Stone<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n

\n\tThey began playing shows at small clubs around Chicago, roping in friends to round out the band. Guitarist and pedal steel player Max Subar and bass player Jason Ashworth joined Case Oats after being recruited for a Halloween performance as Creedence Clearwater Revival. \u201cWe all wore wigs, and Spencer drummed with his shirt off for the first time ever,\u201d Gomez Walker recalls. \u201cWe did \u2018Down on the Corner,\u2019 \u2018Hey Tonight,\u2019 \u2018Fortunate Son\u2019 \u2014 all of the classics.\u201d After gathering in Subar and Ashworth\u2019s basement to get the basic drum, bass, and guitar tracks for Last Missouri Exit<\/em>, they developed the album\u2019s sound further with Scott Daniel on fiddle and Nolan Chin on piano and organ.\u00a0<\/p>\n

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\n\t\u201cCasey and I harvested a bunch of really stellar performances from each of those players,\u201d Tweedy says, citing Neil Young, Gillian Welch, and Songs: Ohia as reference points they kept in mind. \u201cThe overall goal was to be unvarnished. The word \u2018plain\u2019 has negative connotations, but I don\u2019t feel that way. I think plain can be a good thing if it means that the substance rises. Keep it simple, that was the goal.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tThat homespun sound lets Gomez Walker\u2019s striking vocals stay center stage. On \u201cBitter Root Lake,\u201d she riffs on a true-crime story she heard about on an episode of Dateline<\/em><\/a>: The tale of a Canadian teenager who allegedly stole a plane in 1982 and flew into the U.S. with his girlfriend, and the fatal crash that followed. \u201cIt\u2019s a story of guilt and love, and also the feeling of being 17 and thinking you can get away with literally anything,\u201d she says. \u201cI was like, \u2018I gotta write a song about this.’\u201d<\/p>\n

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