The best country music — and maybe the best music, period — often comes when a singer (usually a man, though not always) faces his demons head-on. Music becomes confession: who they are, what they’ve lived through, and how they’ve survived it. The beauty of this honesty is that listeners often recognize their own stories in the songs.
I could list many artists who fit this mold, but this article focuses on one: Cole Brakebill, and the path he took through addiction toward a way forward. For him, that path involved creativity — music, video, and storytelling.
His YouTube channel, Roosevelt Road Video, actually takes its name from a former band — the beginning of his creative journey.
TikiKiti first encountered Cole a couple of years ago when I received an email asking what it would take to win our Barclay Award. He thought he was on track. I found that confidence intriguing — here was a producer with more than the usual degree of chutzpah. But when I reviewed his channel, I had to break the news: his videos were mashups, and we didn’t rate that category.
That didn’t slow him down. He kept producing professional videos, showing clear technical skill and creative drive. We began following his work.
Then recently, one of his new videos appeared in our search queue — and something had changed. Cole had begun writing his own lyrics and using Suno™ to transform them into music. His videos became original, deeply personal narratives drawn from his life.
Using his middle name, he created the persona Cole Younger — a country artist able to bring his own songs fully to life.
It’s easy to see what shaped him. When Cole shows photos of his family, their importance is unmistakable. The smiles say everything.
As he explains:
“My catalog isn’t random. It tracks phases of my life. Early songs focus on hometown identity and young relationships. Mid-era songs lean into performance, ego, and ambition. Then there’s a clear shift into collapse and addiction themes. The most recent work centers on sobriety, fatherhood, rebuilding, and legacy. I don’t invent much — I process what I’m living through.”
That process is the real secret — not just for Cole, but for anyone trying to chronicle their life honestly. Many artists I’ve spoken with have discovered how to turn lived experience into music. Tools like Suno now allow artists the ability to create something close to an autobiography in song.
This new wave of AI-assisted music has democratized creation. You no longer need a band, expensive studio time, or years of technical training. What you need is inspiration — and the courage to tell your story.
Cole, like many artists I’ve interviewed, writes the lyrics himself — often poetry first. But even that comes second. The first step is living the poetry.
That’s why his music resonates: he’s lived it.
He shared a list of songs meaningful to him. One early track, Don’t Sound Like Enough, captures where his life once stood:
“I was twenty and torn up — wild as the wind.
Heart full of liquor — pockets full of sin.
You were sunlight in a small-town haze —
I was midnight in my selfish ways.”
Later, he reflects:
“You deserve heaven and I gave you hell.”
That level of personal honesty has always been a hallmark of country and Americana music. Artists are given space to speak openly about their lives — the failures as much as the triumphs. In doing so, they often cast out their demons and create something new.
That’s what democratizing music truly means. Many people hear songs in their heads but lack the tools to express them. Now those barriers are lower. Technology becomes the studio; life becomes the source material.
Cole, like many others, is realizing a creativity he always sensed within himself but previously couldn’t fully express.
In some ways, it’s simple:
Having a life you believe is worth sharing.
And maybe that’s the real lesson from Cole Younger’s journey. Art doesn’t begin with perfection — it begins with honesty. It begins when someone decides their struggles, their mistakes, their recovery, and their hope are not things to hide but things to shape into something meaningful.
Cole didn’t just find music — he found himself through it. And in doing so, he reminds us that creativity isn’t reserved for the chosen few. It belongs to anyone willing to live deeply, reflect honestly, and tell their story out loud.
Sometimes the road back becomes the road forward. And sometimes a song is the first step home.
And maybe that’s the real lesson from Cole Younger’s journey. Today’s music industry is shifting in ways few could have predicted even a decade ago. The gatekeepers haven’t disappeared, but they matter less than they once did. Tools like AI music platforms, video production software, and online distribution have moved creative control back toward the artist.
Cole didn’t break through by waiting for permission — he built something honest first and lets the audience find it. That’s increasingly how careers begin now: not in boardrooms or studios, but in bedrooms, garages, and laptops where lived experience becomes art.
His story isn’t just about recovery or creativity. It’s about a new model of authorship — one where authenticity carries as much weight as technical polish, and where personal narrative can be the strongest currency an artist has.
Cole Younger didn’t just find music; he found a way to own his story. And in today’s evolving music landscape, that may be the most powerful instrument an artist can have.
