Faith, Frets, and Forgiveness: The Life Lessons of Ken Holt

Ken Holt is not your average singer-songwriter. He’s shared stages with rock legends, preached from pulpits, and penned songs that read like journal entries from the soul’s deepest archives. With his long hair, sparkly tie, and unshakable sense of purpose, Holt defies easy labels. His latest single, “I Did Not Know,” is a vulnerable reckoning—equal parts confession, reflection, and redemption. In this interview, Holt opens up about the lessons learned across a lifetime of music, ministry, and movement. From youthful dreams to hard-earned wisdom, he invites us to walk with him through the melodies and memories that continue to shape his ever-evolving journey.

 Ken, you’ve lived a life filled with music, ministry, and movement—from sharing the stage with rock legends to serving in the church. When you look back, who is the man you see? 

What do rock bands, church youth groups, bars and auditoriums, pulpits, songwriting and sermons have in common? One of the interesting results of having recently released new music is that interviewers are likely to wonder, “Who is this guy, Ken Holt, with the long hair, the sparkly tie, and the Presbyterian Church ordination?” Here’s the short answer: I am OPEN to the opportunities that present themselves, DISCIPLINED to make it happen, and RECEPTIVE to the need to do it a different way, when necessary, i.e., change. Through it all, past and present, I have tried to maintain a level of truthfulness and kindness. With focus, that will be the case in the future. If there is a legacy, perhaps that will be it.

 Your new single, “I Did Not Know,” feels like a deeply personal confession. Was there a specific moment—or a person—that inspired you to finally put those words into a song? 

Reading the reviews for the 2nd single off the album, I Did Not Know, has been for me like stretching out on a therapist couch. Honestly, I did not intend to filet any one relationship, but personal experience seems to provide a backdrop; how could my own successes and failures not generate lyrics? Besides, who among us has not said, “If I had only known then what I know now?” No doubt, getting older generates those questions. 

Many people struggle to face their past, especially moments they wish they could have done differently. What gave you the strength to be so vulnerable in your music? 

Art, whether it’s music, writing, painting etc., provides an outlet for feelings, emotions, thoughts, and questions. If I were setting out to write a hit song I might start by trying to identify popular cultural icons like pickup trucks and political symbols. But instead, I typically start with what I call a “slice of life” observation that nags at me until I try to put it into words. IF I’m brave enough to ask myself, “What is MY experience?” and “How does it make ME feel?”, THEN I’m getting into VULBERABLE territory. Personally, I think that’s how my best songs are written. Why? Because other people have had a similar experience, or sadness, or joy. There lies the connection. 

You’ve experienced life through many lenses: musician, father, husband, minister. Which of those roles has taught you the most about love—and loss? 

As you’ve said, I have seen and experienced life through a variety of lenses. Musician, father, husband, minister, son, are all descriptive of who I am. Each role has been decisive in forming who Ken Holt is. Notice, men usually identify themselves by naming what they get paid to do. I own a Lawn Care business. I’m a Realtor. I’m retired or want to be. Certainly, I can love what I do professionally, and I can feel loss if the band breaks up. But that’s just a piece of it. Having great parents, friends like brothers, a wife and children, those are the pieces of my life which have shown me the meaning of love and the depth of loss. 

Your lyrics often carry a sense of wisdom that feels hard-earned. If you could speak to your younger self, perhaps Ken Holt just starting out in The Blend, what would you say to him? 

If I were to speak to my younger self just starting out in music, I would say, “May the love that you feel for your music today, be the love that you feel for your music when you’re seventy. Beyond that, may you always have the determination to deal with the details.” 

Faith and music are both such powerful forces. Do you see them as separate expressions in your life—or are they one and the same for you? 

As to how faith and music intersect in my life, I would say that they go hand in hand. My faith is expressed in my music; and my music is a means to express my faith. When I say “faith,” I mean hopeful outcomes, valleys transitioning to mountain tops, loves ultimate victory over hate, walls that separate and divide coming down in favor of a common humanity… you get the picture. I am much less concerned with religious doctrine and more in favor of right living. There’s no shortage of song material. 

In “I Did Not Know,” there’s a quiet ache, a sense of something beautiful slipping away. Do you believe music has the power to heal what words alone cannot? 

You noticed a “quiet ache, a sense of something beautiful slipping away” in the song I Did Not Know. The question is, can music heal? Chords, notes, melody, it would seem to me, make the bed for the lyrics to lie in. When it’s all working there may very well be a healing, meditative quality to it. Perhaps it’s comforting in one sense because the listener now knows that he or she is not alone, and not the only one who has felt this way. I think the best songs make that connection. 

When all the stages are empty and the songs are sung, what do you hope people remember most about your journey—as an artist, and as a man? 

What do I hope people will remember about me? Ken was a good man, who touched a few lives along the way, and he even wrote a few decent songs.