Sara and a young Lili Hickman Credit: Dennis Fagan

In the fall of 1995, singer-songwriter Sara Hickman felt her career gaining momentum. She was touring behind her third album, Necessary Angels, and had just played Los Angeles’ famed Troubadour when she learned she was pregnant.

Rather than putting music on hold, she kept going.

Within months, infant Lili Hickman was traveling alongside their mother, bouncing between tour stops while relatives and friends helped care for them backstage. Some nights, Sara even walked onstage with Lili strapped to her back while performing before thousands.

“I can’t imagine what that does to someone’s psyche,” Sara says. “Especially because it’s a positive response.”

Years later, the roles had quietly reversed.

At the Broken Spoke, Sara watched from the audience as 7-year-old Lili took the stage, a feather boa draped around their shoulders and a newsboy cap pulled low. Backed by a band of fellow campers from School of Rock, Hickman took the microphone and belted out the Rolling Stones’ “Get Off of My Cloud.”

“I felt this empowerment that I had never felt before,” Lili says. “In that moment, I was like, ‘Maybe I could do this forever.’”

Austin has long been celebrated as the Live Music Capital of the World, launching generations of artists who helped define the city’s sound. Less visible are the families behind that legacy. Children raised backstage, inside recording studios, and on tour buses are now becoming musicians themselves, transforming a lifetime of exposure into careers uniquely their own.

Where the Soundtrack Began

For Lili, music wasn’t something to aspire to; it was simply everyday life. That same sense of normalcy echoes throughout Austin’s musical families, where rehearsals replaced bedtime stories and the hallways of music venues became childhood playgrounds.

For Ben Buck, those lessons came through records. Long before he picked up a microphone, his father, drummer and Antone’s Records owner Mike Buck, introduced him to Austin clubs, live shows, and a sprawling vinyl collection spanning blues, soul, rock, and country. 

“Music has been a constant in my life since before I could walk,” Ben says. “My dad would play records and take me out to different shows that he was performing around town.”

Mike Buck with his then-teenaged son, Ben Credit: Ben Buck

Both of Mike’s children found their way into the arts. Ben built a career as a rapper, producer, and DJ, earning Austin Music Awards recognition, while his sister Billie Buck is a musician and visual artist. Even so, Mike says he never expected either of them to become musicians. “I just let them choose their path,” he says. “They gravitated toward music on their own.”

Rather than abandoning the sounds he grew up with, Ben absorbed them. His work pulls from the same deep musical history his father introduced him to, filtering blues, soul, and rock influences through hip-hop production and modern storytelling.

“He had a really immense record collection, and hearing all the music inside the house gave me context for the hip-hop I was listening to,” Ben says. “It showed me the roots and how it’s progressed and gave me a deeper appreciation for it.”

That same sense of musical inheritance looked different for Calder Allen. As a fifth-generation Austinite (and grandson of renowned songwriter and artist Terry Allen), he grew up in a family where music was a tradition. At gatherings, guitars rarely stayed in their cases for long. Holiday celebrations routinely became impromptu jam sessions as relatives and family friends passed instruments around the room.

With his father behind the drums and his older brother playing in bands, music became woven into the family long before Calder wrote his first song. “I just thought it was normal,” he says. “Everyone else in my family had their own record, so I figured it was my turn.”

His grandfather remembers that progression as something that happened naturally rather than intentionally. “There’s always been music around our house,” Terry says. “From the time all of these people were little bitty kids, they took to some kind of instrument or to music.”

Watching his children and grandchildren continue that tradition has become one of his greatest rewards. “There’s something really incredible about turning around and seeing your kids behind you with an instrument,” he says. “It’s a feeling unlike any other.”

Five generations of Allens appear on this year’s album Blood Sucking Maniacs

More Than a Last Name

For the next generation of Austin musicians, inheriting a musical legacy comes with both opportunity and expectation. As the child of a beloved Austin musician, Lili has occasionally been labeled a “nepo baby,” a title they greet with humor rather than resentment. 

“I’m a forever nepo baby,” Lili says with a chuckle. “If that means I get to be Sara Hickman’s kid, I’ll take the title for sure.”

Still, Lili understands the desire to be recognized beyond a family name. That search for independence began with Flora & Fawna, the Austin electropop band they formed before joining country supergroup Next of Kin. Without their last name attached, Lili found a new freedom in introducing music on their own terms: “It was nice to feel, in a way, my own person.”

After years exploring a sultry sound with Flora & Fawna, Lili found themselves returning to the roots-inspired music that first shaped them. After inviting Madison Baker and Caelin to sing harmonies on a demo, the chemistry between the three musicians was undeniable. “I think all three of us realized something really special was happening,” Lili says. 

Sara and a grown-up Lili Hickman perform together Credit: Jill Henderson

The spark they found in that first recording session has since turned into one of Austin’s fastest-rising acts. With a blend of country storytelling and harmony-rich arrangements, the trio brings their sound to stages across the country; they made their Lollapalooza debut on Aug. 1. 

Calder Allen took the Lollapalooza stage the following day. Calder’s music fuses traditional Texas country with heartland rock into a Red Dirt blend, pairing reflective songwriting with the storytelling traditions passed down through generations of Texas musicians. Despite their different sounds, both Hickman and Allen navigate the challenge of honoring a family legacy while building careers that reflect their own voices.

Calder’s approach is less about recreating the past than continuing a conversation. “I do feel a sense of artistic integrity that’s been influenced by my grandfather and my parents,” he says. “I’ve always respected the way they’ve lived their lives, and I want to carry that with me.”

For some artists, honoring a family legacy also means becoming the representation they never saw. For CHERRI, finding her artistic voice meant forging a path where few had come before. 

The singer-songwriter and producer, born Corinne Jones, first gained attention on TikTok, where she documented Austin’s lack of visible Black music spaces while encouraging audiences to support local R&B artists. Her videos have garnered thousands of views, highlighting overlooked musicians and challenging perceptions of the city’s music scene. By the time she launched her March residency at Firehouse Lounge, many of the viewers who had discovered her online were filling a room that once struggled to reach capacity. 

“I’ve had people come up after shows and say, ‘I’ve lived here for 20 years and never seen this many Black people in one room,’” CHERRI says. “We’re actively changing that.”

Music had always surrounded her. She spent much of her childhood watching her mother, soul and R&B singer Taméca Jones, perform across Austin, absorbing lessons from the wings before ever stepping into the spotlight herself.

“If you’re a Black female musician, it’s a lot harder to navigate the industry,” CHERRI says. “For a long time, [my mom] didn’t even want me to do music.”

Taméca admits that hesitation came from experience rather than doubt in her daughter’s talent. “I definitely didn’t encourage her at first,” she says. “It was a projection of my own hurt in the industry because money corrupts art, and it’s definitely corrupted my love for music.”

Still, she watched those fears slowly give way to pride as CHERRI developed into a confident performer in her own right. “I saw her blossom as a performer,” Taméca says. “She’s so naturally charismatic. The way she interacts with the crowd is effortless and genuine.”

Corinne and Taméca Jones Credit: Nathan Migal

That confidence extends beyond the stage. CHERRI’s debut single, “Come Around,” blends contemporary R&B with soulful vocals and understated production, prioritizing mood and intimacy over traditional pop structure. 

For CHERRI, carving out her own identity meant carrying forward her mother’s influence while reshaping what that legacy can look like. This journey reflects a challenge shared by many artists raised around Austin’s music scene: how to honor the people who came before them while creating something distinctly their own.

“My mom’s passing the torch,” she says. Even her laugh carries the same warmth as Taméca’s. 

“Growing up, I always thought, ‘I’ll be my own artist someday,’ and that’s happening right now.” 

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