I Came With a Purpose.
I Left With Their Stories.

“This year, I did not simply want to document music. I wanted to document humanity through music.”

This Year, the Mission Was Different

I have been fortunate to cover Austin City Limits before, but 2026 felt different from the moment the opportunity came together. This was my third year experiencing ACL as credentialed media and my second representing AWRCL Media. Yet this time, the focus was not simply on who was performing or what was happening onstage.

I had been invited to cover Weekend Two, October 9–11, the weekend that included World Mental Health Day on October 10. For someone who built A Wild Ride Called Life around difficult conversations, storytelling, and mental health advocacy, that detail changed everything.

I wanted every interview to make room for something beyond a new release, a set list, or a career milestone. I wanted to ask what happens to the person behind the performance—especially when the crowd cannot see the anxiety, grief, self-doubt, or exhaustion that person may be carrying.

More Than a Press Badge

As a retired U.S. Army veteran, author, and mental health advocate, I came into the media industry with a perspective shaped by experiences far outside the entertainment world. When I founded AWRCL Media, I did not want to leave that perspective behind. I wanted to bring it with me.

In preparation for ACL, I reached out to artists and their representatives, researched their stories, developed questions, and worked to earn their trust. Those introductions mattered, but the deeper reward came when a conversation moved beyond the standard interview and an artist felt comfortable discussing real life.

It reminded me that a press credential opens a door. What you do once that door opens is what defines the work.

Seven Conversations. Seven Different Stories.

The artist conversations I am publishing from ACL 2026 demonstrate just how many ways music intersects with emotional well-being. Each interview followed its own direction, but a common thread emerged: we are all human, regardless of what happens under the stage lights.

Cassandra Coleman spoke about faith, self-worth, and learning not to measure herself entirely by achievement. With School of Rock, I heard how young performers and their community are building confidence, friendships, and a sense of belonging.

My reunion with DJ Cassandra, whom I had interviewed two years earlier, became a powerful conversation about healing through music and the courage to seek help. Montclair described the support, grace, and chosen-family bonds that hold a band together.

LaTrainiump talked about an extraordinary last-minute festival invitation, but also about his family, the death of his mother, finding an outlet through running, and refusing to glorify nonstop hustle. Calder Allen explored storytelling, staying grounded, and navigating the human side of a music career.

And my conversation with Vwillz challenged the assumption that an energetic performance always reflects how someone feels inside. We discussed anxiety, identity, belonging, and why a meaningful conversation can matter more than the size of a platform.

I am proud that these interviews are not interchangeable. Each artist brought a different story, and each deserves space to tell it.

The Performances I Was Hoping to See—and the Ones I Discovered

Even with a full schedule of interviews and media responsibilities, I wanted to experience the festival as a music lover. One artist I had especially hoped to see was Sienna Spiro. Getting the opportunity to see her perform was a personal highlight of ACL 2026.

I also had the chance to see Turnstile, Leon Thomas, Claire Rosinkranz, Max McNown, DJ Cassandra, Vwillz, Calder Allen, Lola Young, and Lorde. Each was part of the soundtrack to a weekend that felt equal parts work, discovery, and a reminder of why live music means so much to me.

Some of those names also appeared on my interview schedule. Seeing an artist perform and then hearing them talk about what goes on behind the music gave me two perspectives on the same person—one from the crowd and one through conversation.

The Interview I Did Not See Coming

Not every conversation at ACL was with a musician. One unexpected interview was with Isaac Rivera of Dripping Springs, Texas, a Texas A&M University graduate who is preparing to open a new indoor golf business.

That unexpected connection reminded me that being on assignment is also about staying curious. Alongside the performances and planned artist conversations, there are people pursuing their own ideas, taking risks, and beginning new chapters. Isaac’s upcoming business is another story I look forward to learning more about as his plans take shape.

I will share more about the indoor golf business once its details are confirmed and ready to announce.

38,739 Steps, 14.4 Miles, and Countless Stories

By the end of the three-day weekend, my walking totals told their own story: 38,739 steps, or approximately 14.4 miles, across the festival grounds. Friday accounted for 13,200 steps, Saturday 10,868, and Sunday 14,671.

Those miles were filled with moving between stages, finding interview locations, meeting people, managing media responsibilities, and making time for the performances I did not want to miss. The finished photos and articles show the highlights; those steps hint at the work and energy behind them.

I was tired, but I was also reminded how fortunate I was to do work that brings together my love of music and my commitment to sharing stories that matter.

A Moment That Stayed With Me: Brené Brown and Lola Young

One of the moments I recorded in my voice notes came from a conversation between Brené Brown and Lola Young at the Bonus Tracks stage.

I was struck by their discussion of stepping away from the noise, making space for themselves, and recognizing the need for time away from social media. Hearing those themes discussed openly in a festival setting felt refreshing and timely.

It made me think about how often we give everyone else permission to rest while struggling to extend that same permission to ourselves. Even when we are creating, producing, reporting, or chasing something we love, there has to be room to step back.

My brief voice memo captured the impression that conversation left on me, not a complete transcript of the stage discussion. What stayed with me was its reminder that protecting our peace matters, whether we are in front of a crowd or working quietly behind the scenes.

What You Do Not See Behind the Camera

There is a polished version of festival coverage: the completed interview, the final photograph, the article with its headline, and the short video clip that appears on social media.

Then there is everything it takes to get there.

At ACL, recording interviews meant working around outdoor noise, wind, crowds, equipment issues, and the reality that time with artists is often short. After the festival came the less glamorous work: improving difficult audio, reviewing transcripts, editing footage, selecting photographs, and shaping conversations into stories that do the artists justice.

Some of that work has been frustrating. I have had moments when I questioned whether I could get all the material ready. But the importance of the stories—and the trust people placed in me by sharing them—has kept me going.

I am especially grateful to photographer Donald Marone for documenting the people and moments that make this coverage feel personal. His photographs will accompany the individual features where the images are available and approved for use.

What World Mental Health Day Looked Like to Me

World Mental Health Day is often represented by a graphic, a hashtag, or a reminder to check in on someone. Those things can be useful. But this year I wanted to see what would happen when mental health became a genuine part of our conversations with musicians.

The answers were not rehearsed slogans. They were reflections on self-doubt, friendship, grief, community, creative expression, the pressures of work, and learning to ask for help.

I also learned that some of the artists and people around music bring experience from caring professions and mental health-related work. Those connections reinforced my belief that the distance between entertainment and advocacy is not nearly as great as we sometimes imagine.

The goal was never to suggest music can replace professional treatment. It was to recognize the important place music and human connection can have in the bigger conversation about well-being.

Thank You for Making Room for These Stories

I want to thank the Austin City Limits media team for welcoming AWRCL Media during Weekend Two and making room for a perspective centered on World Mental Health Day.

I am also grateful to the artists, their managers, the people who helped coordinate our conversations, and everyone who gave their time and attention to this coverage. The encouragement I received about the mental health questions reminded me that thoughtful interviewing can make an impact before an article is ever published.

Most of all, I want to thank the people who are willing to talk honestly, whether they are onstage, backstage, or watching from home. Your stories matter.

The Ride Continues

ACL 2026 reminded me that the best stories are not always the loudest ones. Sometimes they happen in a quiet answer, an unexpected reunion, a moment of vulnerability, or a reminder that someone else has felt what you are feeling.

This year, I did not simply want to document music. I wanted to document humanity through music.

That is what AWRCL Media will continue to do—one honest conversation at a time.