Let’s do this

Let’s do this.

I didn’t expect a parking lot to change my life.

When I rolled into Milwaukee to see Billy Strings hit the Fiserv Forum on that Friday in August, I told myself I was just “getting a feel for things.”

I’d returned from a trip to San Francisco for the Dead 60 weekend with burning curiosity about the Billy Strings fan phenomenon. Half-formed, half-reckless and fueled by intuition, I printed a couple hundred business cards with a vague sense that if I put myself out there, something would happen.

Something happened. Many things happened. 

What I stepped into wasn’t just a concert crowd. It was a universe — alive, organized, chaotic, generous, opinionated, spiritual, hilarious, and deeply human. And within 24 hours, this project went from hypothetical to inevitable.

The Lot, the Cards, and the Awakening

I’ll be honest: handing out cards felt awkward at first. It’s one thing to conceptualize a documentary from the comfort of your desk; it’s another to walk up to strangers in a swirling Shakedown environment and say, “Hey, can I hear your story?”

But the moment I approached the first few people — rail riders, day trippers, families, super-fans — a door opened. People didn’t just talk; they wanted to tell me why they were here, what the music meant to them, what Billy represented in their lives.

There was no warming up. The conversations started at full intensity.

By the time doors opened, I knew I wasn’t in Milwaukee for one story — I was in there for a thousand.

The Moment I Realized I'm In Over My Head (In the Best Possible Way)

The show itself was a whole education: The communal energy; the musicianship that felt like a physical force; the pit culture, the rail culture, the awe, the chaos, the courtesy, the rowdiness. Ole Slew Foot.

I’d attended concerts my entire life, but this one felt different — a ritual, a communal surge, a bluegrass revival meeting with arena lighting and psychedelic transcendence.

The Reddit Post Hit — and Everything Changed

At set break I checked my phone. Someone had posted a photo of my card on Reddit. My inbox began filling with DMs and emails from fans as far away as Vietnam. I spent the next two weeks on Zoom, listening. By the end of September, I had spoken with quite a few folk — earnest, articulate, hilarious, skeptical, emotional. Each conversation peeled back another layer of the culture.

It became obvious: this isn’t a documentary about a popular musician — it’s a documentary about what people find when the music becomes the compass.

The First Wave of Interviews — A Cross-Section of America

I met people who treat Billy’s music like scripture.

People who say it saved their lives.

People who feel conflicted about the scene.

People who run archives out of spare bedrooms.

People just looking for connection.

And I realized: the Billy Strings phenomenon is actually 20 different stories happening at once.

The Moment the Project Became Real

At some point — after an interview with someone who described their first show as “a second chance at life” — I closed my laptop, stared at the wall, and said: “I guess I’m making a movie.”

The early days now feel like the overture — the rising theme before the story settles into its groove.

Let’s do this.