Justin Trawick - DC based band leader, podcaster, and founder of "We Are the 9" | Rugged Revival

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Justin Trawick doesn't fit into neat little boxes, and honestly, he seems entirely at peace with that fact. When Cam from The Rugged Revival sits down with the DC-based musician for a lightning round of questions, what emerges isn't just a portrait of an artist—it's a window into someone who's built a life and career on authenticity, curiosity, and an almost disarming willingness to be himself.

The conversation begins with something as simple as hats. Trawick is wearing a Goran—a double XL, because as he explains with characteristic honesty and humor, he's a C-section baby with a "misshapen head," and Stetson doesn't make them in the size he needs. It's a throwaway moment, really, but it sets the tone for everything that follows: this is someone unafraid to acknowledge life's peculiar realities, even the uncomfortable ones. There's no pretense here, no manufactured cool. Just a guy in an oversized hat talking about why his head doesn't fit the mold.

Since 2006, Trawick has been building something in the Washington DC area and along the East Coast—a sound rooted in the DNA of contemporary roots music. His influences read like a who's who of the independent music world: Bob Schneider, The Tallest Man on Earth, G. Love, Old Crow Medicine Show, David Gray. These aren't influences he's casually name-dropped; they're woven into his musical fabric in ways that feel earned and genuine. In 2015, he released "Goodbye" under the band name Justin Trawick and the Common Good—a song born from that distinctly human search for direction and belonging in a world that always seems one step ahead.

What's particularly striking about Trawick is his multi-hyphenate approach to music and community. He's not just a performer; he's a podcast host, a band leader, and the founder of "We Are the 9"—suggesting someone deeply invested in the mechanics of how we make music together and how we build community around it. The podcast conversation reveals someone genuinely engaged with the details of living a creative life, someone who thinks about things beyond just the next gig.

Take his enthusiasm for clothing and gear. He's not dropping brand names as status symbols; he's talking about discovering Howler Brothers because they modernize that Nashville embroidery aesthetic, or about being genuinely excited that a Falls Church boutique called Wii Fig is opening its first brick-and-mortar location in March. He's wearing Red Wing Iron Rangers and salvage jeans from Nashville. These details matter to him not because they're fashionable, but because they represent connection to place and community.

The food riff that follows—scrambled eggs and avocado, New York Times chili with eighteen spices and cocoa, burgers made for the band before a show—paints a picture of someone who's paying attention to the small rituals that sustain both body and spirit. And his confession about mousse, of all things, is pure gold: "I have avoided mousse my entire life. I thought it sounded bland and unappealing. Um, it is not. Mousse, if you are within the sound of my voice, is wonderful." It's the kind of moment that reveals something true about artistic life—the willingness to approach the world with fresh eyes, to shed old assumptions, to discover wonder in unexpected places.

Trawick represents something essential in the roots and Americana community: the working musician who's engaged not just with his own craft but with building infrastructure for others. Whether through his podcast, his band, or initiatives like "We Are the 9," he's actively thinking about how musicians collaborate, how stories get told, how communities form around shared values.

This is someone worth following closely. The full episode reveals the depth of what drives him—and listeners will find in Trawick the kind of artist who reminds us why independent music matters. He's not chasing trends or trying to fit predetermined molds. He's just building something real, one conversation, one song, one properly-fitted hat at a time.