Bound By Red Dirt: Canada, Felker and McClure

(preface - this is a very brief snapshot. For the whole story, go read Josh Crutchmer’s book!)

In the mid 90s, Mike McClure and The Great Divide were the first to believe that a bunch of Oklahoma upstarts could make it big. They hustled their way onto a major label deal with Atlantic and even got songs on CMT at a time when that felt impossible. The Divide didn’t just write cool songs, they carried the Oklahoma flag into boardrooms and industry showcases where nobody thought it belonged.

The Great Divide was proof that the dream wasn’t just a Garth level fairytale. It was attainable by doing things your own way. With your own songs.

A few years later, Ragweed came charging out of the Stillwater bar scene. They’d grown up watching McClure and The Divide grind, and when their shot came, they didn’t tiptoe in, they jumped in head first. Their sound was undeniable.

McClure was a reliable mentor and had his fingerprints all over their rise. He was there to remind them the songs always outlast the party.

By the late 2000s, a new wave was stirring. Evan Felker and RC Edwards were scribbling songs that sounded more like Larry McMurtry novels than bar anthems.

When Turnpike started recording, McClure again played the role of mentor and producer. He knew how to sharpen a lyric without sanding off the dirt. The Troubadours weren’t Ragweed 2.0 by any stretch. They were something entirely new.

Turnpike made their bones by combining smart lyrics with hellraising musicianship. The fiery fiddle of Kyle Nix and the blistering tele of Ryan Engelman led a charge that poured grooves over the epic songs Felker and Edwards were creating.

The Turnpike boys became a well documented phenomenon that infamously played our Galleywinter River Jam event for $500 and a bar tab on their climb. They burned bright and hard and white hot.

Turnpike wasn’t just carrying the flag for Red Dirt music, they were flying it from arenas nationwide.

McClure the architect, Ragweed the fire, Turnpike the monument. Each band has climbed the highest mountain of national music success and waved the Red Dirt flag so high the whole country had to take notice.

This isn’t just a music scene. It’s a lineage. A tradition. A family. One that starts in Stillwater, echoes in Yukon and stretches coast to coast with sold out arenas…and football stadiums.