From Shut Out to Stand Out: The Story Behind “Small Town Blues”

Originally from San Diego but shaped by miles on the road, the husband-and-wife duo Brett and Leanna “Lee” Patterson have quietly carved out a sound that feels both familiar and untouchable. They call it Cowgirl Surf, a hazy blend of Americana, psych-folk, outlaw country, blues, and lo-fi rock that feels sunburnt, dusty, and slightly haunted in the best way. Think desert highways, thrift-store amps, and songs that sound like they’ve lived a few lives already.

Married since 2010 and making music together as Snake and the Rabbit since 2020, Brett and Lee didn’t wait for permission to find their audience. When the world shut down during the pandemic, they turned to weekly livestreams - raw, intimate performances that slowly built a loyal following. No stage lights, no pretense. Just songs, stories, and Lee’s voice front and center. Those streams didn’t just keep the music alive, they sharpened it.

And you can hear that clarity on their upcoming single “Small Town Blues,” out January 30, 2026.

The song comes from a moment that still stings. In May 2025, Snake and the Rabbit were set to open for a national touring band at a local Pensacola venue. They showed up early, ready to load in. Instead, they were met with a blunt dismissal: Don’t unload your gear. You’re late. You aren’t playing. No explanation. No second chance. Fans who bought tickets to see them didn’t matter. Neither did the fact that they only needed a quick line check. Just like that, they were erased from the night.

“Small Town Blues” isn’t a tantrum about it, it’s something heavier and more honest. It’s the quiet ache of being made to feel small by people with power and ego. It’s the frustration of being stuck in a place that can’t see your worth. It’s the exhaustion of being a woman in a male-dominated industry, fielding unsolicited advice from men who never quite made it themselves but still feel entitled to explain how you should write, play, and exist.

But the song doesn’t stay bitter. It transforms.

Built on a folk-rock backbone that feels tailor-made for long drives, “Small Town Blues” moves with patience and purpose. The guitars feel sun-warmed and worn-in, like they’ve been traveling a while. The rhythm rolls forward steadily, never rushed. And then there’s Lee’s vocal, intimate, piercing, and impossible to ignore. It doesn’t shout for attention. It pulls you closer.

There’s a rawness here that sneaks up on you. The kind that seeps into your veins slowly, then stays. It’s easy to listen to, but hard to shake. Each line carries the weight of lived experience, not just disappointment, but resilience. Turning a bad night into a song that outlasts it. Turning dismissal into momentum.

That’s the magic of Snake and the Rabbit: they don’t romanticize the struggle, but they don’t waste it either. Their music feels like motion, like leaving something behind without fully knowing what’s ahead, only that it has to be better than staying still.

“Small Town Blues” feels destined to become a repeat listen for anyone who’s ever dreamed bigger than their surroundings. It’s a road trip record moment, the kind you loop until the scenery changes and the thoughts finally settle.

And they’re not stopping here. Snake and the Rabbit are currently back in the studio, with more tracks expected by Summer 2026, continuing to expand their folk-rock universe one honest song at a time.