S3 Episode 44: How Local Legends Build Big Things in Small Places
Listen to the full episode here:
Big stages and big money usually get the spotlight. But something better is happening in quieter corners. People are building strange, lovely things with heart, not hype. They're not chasing fame. They're chasing meaning. A laugh.
A flip. A song that helps someone breathe better. These aren't polished stars. They're Local Legends who show up, make stuff, and somehow keep going, even when they're tired, even when it's hard.
This article follows a few of them. Xochitl Sosa runs a circus, raised by trapeze and a bad neck. Melissa Engelman sings through heartbreak and grief with ukuleles and guts. A peek into the world of local students competing in the Caldwell County Junior Livestock Show—with charming stories, helpful advice, and plenty of laughs.
Matt Meshbane throws music fests in dusty lots with folding chairs and covers that hit just right. And somewhere in the background, Local Track by Jonathan Terrell hums along with love, weird beats, and a dog that doesn't care who you are.
In this article, you'll learn what drives them and why they build what they build. And how small shows, sad songs, flying flips, and furry rabbits somehow tell us something big. About trying. About caring. About doing what you love, even when no one claps. Especially then.
How Local Legends Like Xochitl Sosa End Up Running a Circus?
Xochitl Sosa didn't plan to run a circus. She just went to summer camp, hated acting, and found trapeze. Boom, circus life chose her.
Now, she runs Cirque Vida, a contemporary circus in Austin. They've done this for five years. They put on full theatre-style shows and also pop up at places like breweries. Nothing says "craft beer" like someone doing flips above your head.
Yes, Circus School Is Real (And It's Not a Joke)
She got serious after moving to Austin. Taught trapeze. Found a partner. Auditioned for circus school in Vermont. She got in.
They taught:
Tumbling, juggling, and dance
Acting (again, yuck)
Aerials, partner tricks, and floor stuff
It wasn't clown college, though clown schools do exist. She focused on dance trapeze, a spinning setup that lets you twirl, climb, and do floor moves. Think elegant chaos.
Cirque Vida vs Cirque du Soleil
Cirque du Soleil has big bucks, lights, and people dressed like aliens. Xochitl's style? Real people are doing wild things while wearing normal clothes.
Her shows feel like modern dance mixed with emotional storytelling… and then someone flies across the stage.
The Injuries and Cruise Ships That Shape Local Legends in Circus Life
She even did a Cirque du Soleil contract on a cruise ship. Hated the boat. Loved the work. Hurt her neck. That injury pushed her toward directing. She formed Cirque Vida during the pandemic while everything else shut down.
Now, she creates shows like Ventanas about windows and the people behind them. It's funny, weird, deep, and full of flips. She still trains hard, still gets hurt, and still loves it.
Her toddler also does circus stuff now. So yeah, this circus thing? It's personal.
How Local Legends Like Melissa Engelman Turn Love, Death and Mexico Into Songs
Melissa Engelman wrote an album called Love, but don't expect soft kisses and heart emojis. This album is part one of her very real, very personal trilogy: Love, Death & Mexico. Think less rom-com and more "I cried, healed a bit, and now I'm singing about it."
She started this project before the pandemic. Then the world fell apart, recording got tricky, and she had to finish it from across states. The album finally dropped in February — because, yes, she timed Love with Valentine's Month. She's not heartless.
So, Are These Love Songs?
Sort of. But not the cheesy ones. These are the kind you play when you need to talk to yourself in the mirror.
One track is basically a sad ukulele pep talk.
Another song tells those loud, crappy voices in your head to shut it.
It's the kind of "love" that says, "Be kind to yourself, even if no one else is."
It's messy, honest, and weirdly comforting — like crying in the bathtub with style.
What's Coming Next?
The second album, Death, hits a little harder. She lost a lot of people, including her stepdad — someone close. Watching her mom grieve changed her. She says grief is "just love with nowhere to go." Oof. Right in the guts.
Mexico won't be about margaritas and sunshine. It's about a small town near the border where she didn't fit in. It was lonely. It was weird. But it gave her stories — and those are turning into songs.
Yes, That's a Cowgirl Riding a Giant Catfish
Her album art features Slue-Foot Sue — a wild cowgirl riding a catfish down a river. She's Pecos Bill's lady. Yes, this is real folklore. And yes, Melissa helped design it with her artist friend.
Also, she makes her own shirts and tote bags at home. Like, hand-pressed. One by one. Slightly wonky? Sure. But that's the charm.
What Local Legends Face at the Caldwell County Junior Livestock Show
Welcome to the wild world of bunnies, lambs, and calves. It is also known as the Caldwell County Junior Livestock Show. It's loud, fluffy, slightly chaotic, and full of kids doing their best not to get kicked, scratched, or pooped on.
Rabbits: Cute, Angry, and Weirdly Emotional
Celia Stevens showed rabbits in the "pen" and "fryer" categories. Fryer means big bunny. Don't ask where it goes after.
She fed them before and after school. She calmed them on rugs. She got scratched, trying to grab them from the back of the cage. One nibbled her clothes. She didn't mind. Honestly, she seemed tougher than the rabbit.
Her tips:
Pet their heads.
Cover their eyes.
Spread their little feet out if they freak out.
Blow on them if it's hot.
Basically, raise rabbits like tiny, dramatic babies.
Lambs That Fight Back and Still Get Hugged
Emery Burton's lamb, Reba, rammed her into a wall. Reba also bucks like a goat with something to prove. Emery still loves her.
She trains five days a week, blow-dries lamb legs (yes, seriously), and adjusts feed plans every two weeks. Hard work? Yes. Worth it? Also yes.
Her advice: don't quit, even when you're sick, tired, or out of snacks.
And Then There's the Calf…
One little showman fed his calf bottles, pellets, and... vibes. He was shy, said no advice, and just wanted to win. Honestly, fair.
Judges, Parents, and That Kid With the Chicken
Parents said the show builds grit and new friendships. One judge shared how a kid once claimed his chicken ate Skittles. When asked if the poop was colorful, the kid said, "Yes."
So the show's full of surprises. And also rabbits with mood swings.
Inside the Local Legends Behind the Local Tracks Scene
This local track doesn't mess around. It's not trying to sound fancy. It's not here for awards. It's here to tell you one thing: There's a spot out back — and it slaps.
Picture this: you're on a porch. There's a jar of tequila floating around. The band's playing somewhere nearby (you're too cheap to pay for cover). A dog walks by. He doesn't know your name. He doesn't care. You don't either.
And that's when the chorus hits:
Hey mama, won't you take a walk with me?
I got a little place out back.
Don't you know I got myself a place out back?
He says it like seven more times. At some point, you're singing it too. Loud. Off-key. Proud.
What's at This Magical Place Out Back?
A folding table for dancing (yes, dancing)
A stereo that only plays John Prine
Maybe a TV, maybe not
Probably a cooler full of beer, definitely not kombucha
He's not promising much. But it's his. It's got charm. Maybe a hole in the roof, but hey — that's ventilation.
And Then… the Hot Licks Take Over
Out of nowhere, the song jumps into full rock mode. Suddenly, it's all:
Hot legs, hard rock soul!
This is the Hot Black Song!
The music is correct and all right!
It's unhinged. It's sweaty. It's like karaoke night, which was possessed by a garage band.
But you know what? It's fun. It's weird. It's got a heart. This ain't just a love song. It's a weird little anthem for anyone who's got a porch, a speaker, and just enough yard to call it "out back."
What Local Legends Are Doing at Mesh Fest and Why It Actually Works
Matt Meshbane has been messing with sound since high school keg parties. Now, he's finally thrown his own music festival, which is called Mesh Fest. Coincidence? Maybe. But we're not judging.
This isn't just any festival. It's bands, covers, weird venues, and a whole lot of heart — all packed into a parking lot near a shipping container bar.
How It Works
Matt didn't just ask bands to show up. He told them, "Learn 30 minutes of someone else's songs."
Why? Because a Willie Nelson cover draws a crowd faster than some band you've never heard of.
The rules:
Learn covers from legends.
Play them loud.
Win over strangers with familiar tunes.
The bands loved it. Crowds showed up. And Matt sat back, probably thinking, told you so.
What Makes This Fest Different?
It's for musicians first. These are pros — many with decades in the Austin scene — who never get to hang out because they're always gigging. Now? They get to cover each other's favorite songs and talk trash in the best way.
Also, the venue is part picnic, part Mad Max. Think shipping containers with seating, dirt lots, and a massive stage. No frills, no fuss. Just music, fire pits, and maybe a beer or six.
The Bigger Plan
Matt's just getting started. He wants to take this to small Texas towns — the kind with one stoplight and zero live music because music brings people together, especially when someone's singing Skynyrd next to a bonfire.
Conclusion:
Turns out being a legend isn't about fame or money. It's about showing up, trying stuff, and not quitting. Xochitl found the circus by accident. Melissa turned heartbreak into music. Kids raised bunnies like tiny divas. And Matt built a whole festival just to bring people together.
These Local Legends didn't wait for someone to give them a spotlight. They made their own. Some with duct tape. Some with glitter. Some with a folding table and a wobbly sound system.
They laughed, got hurt, kept going, and made things that mattered. And that's enough. You don't need to be perfect. You don't even need a plan. You just need to care, start small, and keep at it.
Maybe you'll teach a rabbit to chill. Maybe you'll build a stage out of shipping crates. Or maybe you'll write a sad song that helps someone else breathe better. Whatever it is, just do it with heart.
Because the world needs more Local Legends, the real kind. The kind who don't quit, even when they're out of snacks.
