Photo: Anna LoPinto

On a warm afternoon in mid-August, I find myself sitting across from two cowboys in the Northeast corner of Wyoming. After driving nearly 1,500 miles from Nashville to Gillette, leaving the hot cicada southern nights to arrive in the arid Powder River Basin, I gratefully settle into a chair. Though the landscape in this part of Wyoming isn’t as staggering as the strutting Grand Tetons or as mysterious as the bubbling Yellowstone geysers, it has its own sagebrush beauty.

Gillette is known for a few things: it is the energy capital of the nation, its proximity to Devils Tower, and if you ask a local, it’s home to the Daly Ranch, a 130-year-old working cattle ranch operated by singer-songwriter Kellen Smith.

Smith is a fifth-generation rancher who tours Wyoming between raising kids and cattle. He occasionally gallivants to Texas to record his original cowboy yodel meets rock’n’roll energy, which he has aptly deemed “rancher blues.” I guess you could say he has, well… a lot of irons in the fire. This unique conglomeration of skillsets, matched with a fun-loving personality, vulnerable lyrics, and a wild look in his eye, gives Smith an unexpected star quality.

Wearing a vintage grey felt resistol hat trimmed with ribbon and a plaid pearl snap, he looks range-ready. That morning, we moved 500 heifers to a new pasture, where Smith played part host, part rancher, and part vet as he expertly removed porcupine quills from a few unlucky bovine muzzles. His look is not too buttoned-up, though (literally and figuratively). He wears a rattlesnake tail necklace, has long hair, and is covered in tattoos. If Willie Nelson is touted for uniting the hippies and the cowboys, Kellen Smith would be his poster child.

Next to Smith is J.B. Zielke. A Colorado-born cowboy (though he argues he knows more about stockmanship than horses and roping) whose name is almost synonymous with his professional projects: his award-winning book, The Lost Cowboy, and his western music YouTube channel Dusty Vaquero. Zielke also joined us on the ride that morning, dust still on his cherry felt hat and wranglers on his hips, but more sensible Vans shoes now on his feet.

Zielke gives the impression of a fellow ready to roll up his sleeves. An accurate assertion of a young man who has cowboyed on six of the seven continents (the subject of his book). Zielke has somehow managed a lifetime of experiences in his relatively young life, checking off unbelievable boxes like riding reindeer in Mongolia, avoiding shootouts in Mexico, and working with Gauchos in Argentina, all before he hit 25 years old.

The first time I met him was backstage at a Colter Wall show, where he courteously drove us to post-show honkytonks in his Dodge minivan. This van also doubles as his home, as he’s continued his nomadic lifestyle even stateside. The dude knows how to make a fast friend, and I was unsurprised by his network of well-known folks. A skill that helped foster his friendship with Kellen Smith, specifically their shared love of country music. For Zielke, he appreciated other music video channels that highlighted Americana and alt-country musicians, but he wanted a deeper dive into those who not only sing about the land but work on it, too.

Enters his idea for Dusty Vaquero, with the inspiration of his channel being Kellen Smith. “If you know ranchers, you know Kellen Smith. And if you know cowboy music, you know him too.” So, the genesis of Dusty Vaquero began.

With Hank Williams senior playing on the record, feeling a happy-tired buzz from a long morning ride, and Smith and Zielke ping-ponging off of each other like Gus and Woodrow, we settled at the ranch headquarters to talk about cowboy culture, songs born on the range, and their significance in the modern world.

Saddle Mountain Post: How did you two meet?

J.B.: I met Kellen waiting in line at an L-7 showcase at the Cowboy in Laramie in 2020.

Kellen: Hell yeah, dude. I remember you standing there with all your cameras and shit. I was thinking, who is this guy? Then we struck up a conversation.

SMP: J.B., you didn’t grow up in a ranching family, but you earned your stripes through working your ass off in ranch and ag. Kellen, you come from a lineage of ranchers, which has the weight of legacy and keeping things going. You both have to hustle in different ways. I have observed a mutual admiration between the two of you. Is this accurate? Has this helped foster a friendship?

Kellen: Once I spent more time with J.B., I gravitated towards him. I was interested in his ideas about The Dusty Vaquero, and his book, The Lost Cowboy, that he wrote while working in a calving shed. We knew a lot of the same folks, and a friendship transpired from there. We also toured together with Kenny Feidler. I was the opener and he was the videographer. That was the first time for both of us to get with a band and drive across the nation.

J.B.: Kellen is exactly what I wanted to promote with Dusty Vaquero. Even today, you’ve seen how busy he is – with moving heifers this morning, an interview this afternoon, a voice lesson, and with his family in the evening. He’s not out there beating the pavement trying to promote his music.

But for these working cowboys, this is their life, and music is just part of it. These are the people that I really wanted to show the world, because if Kellen only plays 20 shows a year, that’s cool, but there are a whole lot of people in other parts of the country that will never see it or hear of it. I wanted to do my part to promote this music and put it out there. And in the long term, I saw the value of it being cool now, but it’s going to be way cool in 30 years looking back on it. It’s important to document.

SMP: That’s interesting. So, it is archival-type footage, like the Alan Lomax of the 21st century. A question we’ve been exploring lately at Saddle Mountain Post is the archetype of the singing cowboy. Why do you think the cowboy sings? Where do these cultural traditions come from, and what are their significance in modern times?

J.B.: Well, cowboys are storytellers. This idea of cowboys is loosely based on a 20-year timeframe (post-Civil War to the 1880s) when they were bringing trail herds up north. At that time, many of those guys couldn’t read or write. It was all auditory, passing on stories and traditions. So, I think cowboy songs came from storytelling and cowboy music on the trail. Nobody’s packing a guitar up the trail. Your choices are a harmonica or nothing. So it’s why cowboy poetry has these big, bad, tough cowboys reciting 200-year-old slam poetry. Storytelling is still a huge part of cowboy culture. So music – and cowboy songs – are just one additional part of that.

SMP: J.B., you shared it’s hard enough to haul a guitar in your van. I can’t imagine packing one in my saddle. Kellen, how does ranching inform your music?

Kellen: I write the majority of my songs or have ideas when I’m out riding or in the winter. There is, however, something to be said about cowboys being alone a lot with their thoughts. Which can be positive but also can lead to many unfortunate circumstances, like with their mental health. But I think a lot when I’m by myself checking water, moving cows, fixing fence. I love fixing fence.

SMP: Why?

Kellen: It’s the only time ever that I can truly be alone, leave my phone, step back, look at the work I’ve done, and be proud of it. And it’s a lot of time with your thoughts. I think a lot of poetry and songs come from guys being in the saddle for so long. What else do you do other than think?

SMP: Of course, these are important and demanding jobs, but do you think they have an element of boredom or monotony?

Kellen: It depends on the season. Some months are busy, and you have to have the trucks loaded by 6:00 a.m. every morning. But at other times, you might have weeks to fix a fence before moving cows into it. You might even have a month to fence. It can be cold out, and it can be easier to do something else than what you need to do. But depending on the job that day, it can be very lonesome.

SMP: There’s a romantic image of cowboys singing during their work. Be it a night herding song or tunes around the fire. What is your experience with that? Is it still a relevant part of cowboy culture?

J.B.: Yeah. I mean, I’ve seen it all over the world. It’s not just an American cowboy thing to sing and tell stories. It might have its own sound, but it’s still there. In Mongolia, it’s a totally different type of singing, like throat singing. But the songs are about the same thing. They’re all about the best horse they ever owned, a wreck, or some trouble they got into. They just sing to the animals, and it keeps ’em calm. Almost any old true cowboy book refers to singing to cattle, humming, harmonica, or whatever tool folks had. When the open range wasn’t fenced in (before the 20th century), it didn’t take much to startle a bunch of cattle. When they’re startled, you’re not stopping it. You’re just trying to control the chaos. So, I think having songs and calming sounds around cattle was certainly useful.

SMP: J.B., have you used songs in your travels?

J.B.: Well, you don’t see much night herding other than Mongolia. That’s all gone away. And so the fences have gone up. For the most part, the cattle don’t have people living with them anymore. So that part of livestock husbandry, it’s not dead, but it’s very uncommon.

SMP: I’ve worked at ranches where folks will melodically call to their herd to have them come to them. I’ve done it a lot wrangling horse herds. Do either of you see that being used very often?

Kellen: I haven’t, but I’ve thought about it. In the winter, I’ll honk the horn if I’m caking or feeding hay – which I rarely do. By the third day, they start coming up pretty good.

SMP: There has been a resurgence in more traditional cowboy tunes in the past decade, thanks to artists like Colter Wall and Charley Crockett. What do you think the appeal of this style of music is in 2024?

Kellen: That it’s out of town.

SMP: Yes! I think about 80% of folks in the U.S. live in urban areas now.

Kellen: I think people, especially in the past five years, have realized how sheltered we are as a society. There’s an appeal to what goes on over the next hill. Especially in a state like Wyoming, where the cowboy life is still going pretty strong.

J.B.: It’s also probably one of the more easily accessible pieces of cowboy culture for somebody that’s not part of that. Maybe you live in L.A. and watch Yellowstone, or you visit a dude ranch once a year – music is the one thing you can carry around with you. You can listen to it while you’re driving. It’s an easy medium. So cowboy music is probably one of the easier ways for people to connect to this way of life.

SMP: Why do you think that the cowboy is such a central folk hero and such an archetype? Is there an elemental of escapism, especially for those folks in town?

Kellen: Yeah. I don’t know if it’s necessarily escaping life. I think a lot of people are very happy and content where they’re at. But there’s something about somebody living out in the brush. People are interested to know what it’s really like. It sure looks cool, but it’s not for everybody.

SMP: Like the romanticism of it, right?

Kellen: Yeah. It’s not just saddling your horse and moving cows. I wish it was.

SMP: What are the other parts?

Kellen: Oh, about drought and the most extreme heartbreaks you could ever put yourself through. Are we going to make it? You start thinking things like I might need to start working at ACE Hardware, give it up, and move to town.

SMP: The financial reality of it.

Kellen: It’s so unpredictable year to year. If every year was $2,000 calves, there’d be a lot of ranchers. But, the cattle markets never stay true, just like the weather. But there is an appeal to it. Folks say to me a lot, “Oh, you’re a real cowboy.” But the word “cowboy” is like the word “country” – there are so many iterations and associations with it. What does it really mean? I don’t know if it matters what it means.

SMP: Do you identify more as a cowboy or a rancher?

Kellen: Rancher.

SMP: That’s what I figured.

Kellen: Yeah. And I play rancher blues music. That’s what I played for the record and stadium jazz. (laughs)

SMP: How about you, J.B.?

J.B.: I would identify more as a rancher than a cowboy, too. That term has kind of stuck just because of the branding I’ve inadvertently done. But I’m not a good cowboy.

Kellen: One thing is for certain – we ain’t farmers. (laughs)

SMP: Thanks for the clarification, Kellen.

J.B.: I know a lot more about cattle and the business side of ranching than I do about horsemanship. I’m not great with horses. I’m not a great roper. There’s a whole skill set that comes with being a cowboy. Cowboys and ranchers are two totally different things. I think ranchers are more businessmen. There are a lot of factors that contribute to being a rancher. You’re focused on being financially stable.

Kellen: While still keeping your sideburns, too. (laughs)

SMP: Well, excuse me for using the word cowboy. I know there are a lot of nuances to ranching and agriculture. But cowboy is very relatable and accessible.

Kellen: It’s okay. He is the lost cowboy. I can be the lost rancher. But if we were to be cowboys, we’re Wyoming cowboys, and that’s high praise.

SMP: So speaking of Wyoming and Cowboys – as we sit here at a ranch in Gillette – there are several artists from Wyoming (or associated with it) like the Munsicks, Luke Bell, and Chris LeDoux who have impacted country music. Do you think there is a Wyoming sound?

Kellen: There’s getting to be.

J.B.: I don’t think there is. I think there’s a Wyoming scene more than a Wyoming sound. People are very supportive of cowboy music. So there’s an audience, whether it’s Sam Munsick, who is very stripped down, lyrically based music, or Kellen, who is more rock and roll. People are promoting and supporting this music.

Kellen: I retract. That’s a better explanation.

SMP: So you think there’s a scene, not a sound. Perhaps there aren’t enough folks here. Wyoming is the least populated state in the country. Maybe in the future?

J.B.: I don’t think there ever will be.

SMP: Maybe it’s more thematic than sonic?

Kellen: The scene is so young. Besides Chris LeDoux, Chancey Williams, and the Munsicks, not much has been mainstream. Wyoming is still pretty secluded. I experience it firsthand, even booking shows across the state. Things move slower out here.

SMP: I have a few rapid-fire questions for you two. What’s something you always bring on tour?

J.B.: My camera.

Kellen: My guitar? I don’t really bring anything.

J.B.: What about that rattlesnake necklace? You have that every time.

SMP: What about in your saddlebag? Y’all probably don’t use one.

Kellen: Nope.

J.B.: No saddlebag. But a pocket knife, pen, and paper. Those are the only things I always have with me.

SMP: Something that’s always in your van?

J.B.: Books and hats.

SMP: Favorite book?

J.B.: We Pointed Them North by E.C. Abbott.

SMP: Favorite songwriter?

Kellen: Hank Senior! Current, Evan Felker.

J.B.: Ben Nichols from Lucero. Oh, and Townes.

SMP: What makes a good horse?

J.B.: One I can stay on. (laughs)

Kellen: Heart.

J.B.: And feet.