A QUIET MASTERPIECE: Wilson Fairchild’s “How Are Things in Clay, Kentucky” Speaks to the Soul Left Behind
For all the showmanship that country music is known for—the glittering lights, the guitar solos, the anthems that shake an arena—it’s often the quiet songs that linger the longest. The ones that whisper instead of shout. The ones that speak to that soft place inside us we don’t show often. “How Are Things in Clay, Kentucky” by Wilson Fairchild is one of those songs—a gentle, aching ballad that doesn’t just sing about home, it feels like home.
Performed by Wil Reid and Langdon Reid—sons of Statler Brothers legends Harold and Don Reid—Wilson Fairchild isn’t just carrying on a family name. They’re carrying the weight of memory, tradition, and the stories that live in the cracks of old front porches and small-town sidewalks. And with this track, they prove that the heart of country music isn’t found in flash or fire—it’s found in honesty.
There’s nothing elaborate here. No overproduced drums, no radio polish. Just a clean acoustic guitar, voices that were born to sing together, and a melody that walks softly. The lyrics read like a letter scribbled out in the quiet of the night—full of simple questions, weighted with years:
“Do they still hang flags in front of the hardware store?
Do folks still wave when they pass your door?”
It’s not just a trip down memory lane. It’s a longing. A prayer, maybe. The kind of wondering you do when you’re too far away to go back, but still close enough to feel it in your chest.
Clay, Kentucky might be the town in the song, but it could be anywhere. That’s the beauty of it. Whether your roots are in a Southern holler, a Midwest cornfield, or a New England fishing town, this is your song. It’s about that place you left behind… and never really stopped carrying with you.
It’s a song for those who remember when Sundays meant church and supper, when you knew your neighbors’ names, when you didn’t need a GPS to get where you were going. It’s about those moments when you find yourself asking not just how your hometown is doing—but how you are doing, now that it’s no longer just outside your window.
What makes the performance hit even deeper is the blend of Wil and Langdon’s voices—family voices. Voices that echo generations of harmony, heartbreak, and heritage. They don’t sing this song so much as offer it, like a folded-up photo someone kept in their wallet for decades.
In a time when so much of music seems disposable, “How Are Things in Clay, Kentucky” stands quietly, humbly, in the corner—holding a truth too many of us forget: that the past isn’t gone. It’s still there, in the gravel roads, the flag poles, and the people who remember who we were before the world pulled us away.
This isn’t just a song—it’s a check-in. With your childhood. With your soul. With the person you might still be, under everything else.
And sometimes, all it takes is asking.
“How are things?”