The Red Clay Strays are a rock n’ roll band from Mobile, Alabama. Or maybe they’re a country band? Or Americana? Anyway, they’re definitely a band. Full disclosure: they’ve been my law client for about a year. They don’t mind people knowing that, and I’m respecting all confidences regarding our actual work together - this is public facts or my opinions. In addition to being my client, they’re also my favorite band in a very long time.1 All of a sudden, they’re a lot of people’s favorite band. I recently traveled to see them in Athens, GA, and Knoxville, TN, and brought our two older kids to see them, a Bulldog and a Vol, respectively. I didn’t have to twist either of their arms. That’s right, the demo has grown to include regular Gen Z college kids. You know it’s popular when the audience gets a lot younger. And sure, us music biz rank & filers relish these moments when we’re cool…at least for a fleeting moment. I went to see them in my hometown of Bloomington, Indiana, last weekend and thought about brining my 86-year-old mom. Instead, I brought my best hometown buddy and his wife, now they’re fans too.
The Insta post above is from last May, excited the first time I saw the band at a roadhouse-type joint in middle of nowhere North Georgia. If memory serves, it was their first ever sold out show, probably around 300 tickets. The caption is “How do you know when a band is gonna be huge? It’s pretty obvious, really.” And it is. Forgive my victory lap on this one, but with the kind of music I love, it does usually come down to 2 things: the songs and the singing. The Red Clay Strays are unbelievably great songwriters, and they have a phenomenally charismatic frontman in Brandon Coleman with a voice for the ages.
It took them seven years of playing joints to get their first sellout. In those six years of grind, playing joints around the Southeast to whoever happened to be in the room,2 they became a great band. 10,000 hours - it really works. From celebrating selling a few hundred tickets in May 2023 to selling thousands of tickets a few months later. It’s really exciting to witness these moments for a working band. But how did it happen?
From an artist development standpoint, it isn’t unique. But it is unusual, and in my opinion it couldn’t have happened more than a few years ago. In many ways to me, it feels similar to Billy Strings’ recent fast rise from club act to multi-night sports arena headliner. As head of the label that signed him to his first deal in 2019, I watched Billy’s rise very closely. The first time I saw Billy perform was SXSW in Austin in March of that year. He played above a barbecue restaurant to a 2/3 full room. His social media-driven fueled rise happened during the Pandemic, so even his agent and manager didn’t precisely know his ticket selling potential. He scaled venues as he quickly sold out every on-sale. Soon it became apparent that he’d grown to the point he could sell 30,000+ tickets in certain markets such as Nashville. Even though that had always been the goal, getting there that fast was disorienting. Billy is a bluegrass musician, therefore a niche artist. Most people in the world still have no idea who he is. But his fans are obsessive and often travel to multiple shows in the tradition of the Grateful Dead and the jam acts that followed. He captivated the jam community and became their favorite act. In that way, it isn’t really the same thing. The Red Clay Strays are decidedly not a jam band (though they DO occasionally jam onstage in the grand tradition of Southern Rock).
What RCS and Billy have in common is virality. They also have in common that their viral moments happened after they’d developed a following. Both acts have a dedicated “content” person who travels with them an posts live clips to their social media accounts. Each of their Reels and Tik Tok accounts focus on exciting moments in their live shows. The Strays had a viral moment last summer from a session with Western AF, an “influencer” account that focuses on roots music; but they’ve had many viral moments since then, mostly from their own social posts. The platforms’ algorithms identify users who are interested in these genres, this type of “content.” The social account becomes the point of entry for new fans. The content is an actual representation of an exciting live show, which leads to ticket sales. The catch is that the viral marketing doesn’t work unless the band actually delivers on the promise. People become fans not because of clever marketing, but because the music is great. Therefore, there is no shortcut. What The Strays and Billy have in common is many miles and many shows before either act had a huge audience.
Maybe this is obvious. But since the rise of vertical, short-form video on social media3, music companies - particularly major labels - seem to have lost their way with artist development. When something pops on social media, label scouts show up and try to lock up a deal - at least for the song that is viral. When you have a viral song, that doesn’t necessarily mean there’s a concert business, or even necessarily real fans. A label’s margins get tighter as artists have far greater independent and self-release options, leading to greater leverage. Labels pay large sums to make artist-friendly deals with acts that don’t really have a meaningful following. For every one of these that works - think Lil Nas X - there are many that don’t work. The more reliable model is signing artists who build a real following. That means when an artist builds a real, dedicated fan following AND goes viral, it’s potentially a great signing.
The main difference between Billy’s and the Strays’ rise is the precise niche genre they inhabit and the culture that comes with it. No question each artist has benefited from an established genre audience looking for new acts to get excited about. Jam audiences come for the experience, to dance, maybe to trip on psychedelic drugs. Superior musicianship is paramount. Fans of acts in whatever genre the Strays are part of, roots or whatever, love to sing along. Although they are not a country act, I see it as part of the burgeoning roots music scene that has produced superstars in recent years such as Tyler Childers, Zach Bryan, and - to an extent (with an overlap in “indie folk”) - Noah Kahan. If you go to a concert by one of these acts, you’ll notice that almost everyone sings nearly every word in full voice. Musicianship is important, but songs are the priority. At Strays shows, people sing every word to songs that won’t be commercially released for months. They hear clips on the band’s social media, find full-length live versions on YouTube, and then listen on repeat. At the recent Knoxville show, I was completely distracted by two post-college bros who spent the entire show singing to each other. Face-to-face, inches away, shout-singing all the words, even to unreleased songs, directly to each other. Annoying but also kind of sweet.
The big singalong seems to be somewhat generational. My kids make an effort to learn the words before they attend concerts. Anyone who has attended a Taylor Swift concert can attest to the passion of the every-single-word singalong that carries through the entire 3+ hour show. The wild thing that’s happening in music right now is that a band like The Red Clay Strays, whose music is founded on styles that date back to the ‘70s, ‘60s, and even 1950s, can find real mainstream success with a young audience. I’ve seen it before: when the median age drops, the audience grows exponentially. Kids don’t care if it’s referencing music that would seem old-fashioned to their grandparents. It sounds fresh and modern, and they relate with the songs. That’s what I like about the singalong - it’s all about the songs.
I believe humans have a natural desire to hear our voices together. It’s a way we find connection. Whether it’s in church, working the fields, or the mosh pit, there’s plenty of evidence that we desire connection through singing and songs. I’ve heard kids singing along with vapid pop and hip-hop music; but there’s an extra helping of passion when they actually relate with the lyrics. Brandon Coleman sings about his faith in God, mental health struggles, love of family and community, alienation, and other deeply meaningful topics that people obviously relate with and connect through. Whether it’s country music or not (another topic for another day), the music is serving a purpose that country has served in its best moments throughout its history - plain-spoken storytelling and self-reflection told in a way that brings people together through catchy, well-written songs. In my experience, and with notable exceptions, mainstream country music hasn’t been particularly good at those things for quite a while.
Having a favorite band makes me think about my other favorite bands throughout my life, and I realized I’m a lot happier when I have one. Maybe I’ll do an essay on my favorite bands throughout the years. But it has been a while!
One of the band members recently told me about a show in North Caroline where they followed a popular local band and ended up performing to one person: the bartender. She kept offering them drinks the band assumed were on the house, then surprised them with a bar tab of several hundred dollars. Believe me, I relate with this. I have been there.
Tik Tok, Reels, Shorts, etc.