Long before they were packing stadiums and topping charts, Randy Owen, Teddy Gentry, and Jeff Cook found their rhythm not under spotlights, but under the flickering neon of The Bowery in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.
It was there — among the clinking glasses, the scent of fried shrimp, and the hum of tourists on summer nights — that Alabama learned what it meant to earn every clap, every encore, every ounce of respect. Night after night, the cousins honed their harmonies in that smoky little club, singing their hearts out for locals and beachgoers who’d shout requests like:
“Play that one again, boys!”
And they did. Not because they had to — but because they loved it.
It wasn’t just a stage.
It was a proving ground, a launchpad, and, in many ways, a home.
In that warm, electric haze of laughter and late-night sets, Randy met Kelly, the woman who would one day become his wife. She wasn’t just part of the audience — she became part of the journey. In the decades that followed, while the world saw the success, Kelly was the quiet anchor behind the scenes, guiding Randy through personal loss, long tours, and the pressures of life in the spotlight.
And somehow, when you listen to Alabama’s “Mountain Music” today — with its fiddle-fueled joy and front-porch soul — you can almost feel yourself back at The Bowery.
That tiny stage.
That big dream.
Those three young men in boots and button-downs who sang like the whole world was already listening.
Because they weren’t chasing fame —
They were chasing the sound of home.
