An unexpected introduction, a conversation about the long road to success, and a sea of lights in an Oklahoma field.
By Amanda Rey | D’ark Media
I had absolutely no idea what to expect from Shane Smith. But it sure wasn’t a George Strait-style, pure-country gentleman in a basic white T-shirt and jeans. And it damn sure wasn’t four-part harmonies led by a voice that sounds like hot coffee on a cool fall morning. Yet that’s exactly what I found at the 2026 Born & Raised Music Festival in Pryor, Oklahoma.
I’ve spent more than twenty years working in the Northwest Arkansas music community. I’ve been a musician, a music director, a stagehand, and just about everything else that happens before, during, and after somebody steps onto a stage. I’m comfortable around musicians. I’ve interviewed plenty of them, although most have been people I knew personally. But Born & Raised was different.
I was walking into a world I knew remarkably little about. I wasn’t a Shane Smith & the Saints superfan. I barely understood the distinction between mainstream country music and the red dirt and outlaw traditions represented at the festival. And suddenly I was sitting in a media tent, preparing to interview a man whose music I’d only recently begun exploring.
I had done my research. I had prepared my questions. I had a plan. Naturally, the moment I sat down across from Shane, most of it flew right out the window. Fortunately, Shane turned out to be one of the easiest people imaginable to talk to. Genuine, kind, open, and completely unpretentious. He didn’t make me feel like I needed to know his entire discography to deserve ten minutes of his afternoon. And within those ten minutes, I learned quite a bit.
Four Open Mics in One Night
One of the first things I wanted to know was how Shane Smith became Shane Smith. Not the man standing in front of thousands of fans, but the young musician who had to convince somebody to let him stand on a stage in the first place.
His answer took us somewhere familiar: Fayetteville, Arkansas.
Shane told me his brother Connor attended the University of Arkansas, where he played tennis. Another Razorback connection, former drumline member Kurt Lammers, would become instrumental in Shane’s early musical career. When Shane moved to Austin, Kurt was one of his roommates and encouraged him to start playing open mic nights.
Shane admitted those first performances were intimidating. He was in a new city, surrounded by musicians, trying to find his place in a scene where he hardly knew anyone. Sound familiar?
Eventually, he started making a calendar of open mic opportunities. This was before social media made finding every local event a matter of scrolling through your phone. Shane searched newspapers, called venues, and made it his business to figure out where he could play. Sometimes he attended four open mics in a single night. Not because he expected somebody to discover him overnight, but because he understood that getting to know the people who worked in those venues might eventually lead to a paying gig. That’s a musician who understands the business.
When I asked him about the moment he knew the band had found its audience, he didn’t give me some grand story about a sold-out theater or an overnight breakthrough. He described it as a “slow, slow burn.” First, friends and family liked the music. Then their friends started listening. Slowly, the audience grew.
And even now, after years on the road, Shane said the band still questions whether a song is ready to record. He recalled advice from Ray Wylie Hubbard about considering how a song might sound to your 70-year-old self before committing it to a recording.
As someone who has written a song or two that could have survived perfectly well without that last verse, I understood exactly what he meant. Patience, apparently, applies to songwriting as much as it does to building an audience.
Born & Raised
Later that day, I caught another glimpse of Shane during one of Jamie Lin Wilson’s popular VIP songwriter sessions. He performed a song called “Born & Raised.”
Now, I don’t know whether he had that particular song sitting in the barrel or whether he’d written it specifically with the festival in mind. I didn’t catch that part of the introduction. But I immediately recognized something about the man. He was smart.
Choosing that song, in that setting, for that particular audience was a brilliant way to connect with the people sitting in front of him. I appreciated it as a musician, and I appreciated it as someone who understands how much thought can go into making a performance feel effortless.
A little later, while exploring the festival grounds, I heard a voice coming from the main stage. It sounded familiar. Then I realized it was Shane. I hadn’t even noticed his set had started. I hauled ass to the photo pit.
The View from the Pit
When I arrived, the pit was fairly open. Considering the early time slot and the approximately 100-degree heat radiating off the Oklahoma concrete, nobody could have blamed people for keeping their distance. But the lawn told a different story. Fans had already been waiting out there for more than an hour. And the next time I turned around, the pit was full.
There were thousands of people singing Shane’s lyrics. Couples dancing. Phones recording. An enormous crowd responding to a band I was only beginning to understand. And the band? They looked like they were having the time of their lives.
I’ve watched enough musicians perform to recognize the difference between people enjoying themselves and people going through the motions. Shane and the Saints were genuinely enjoying themselves. The smiles, the expressions, the exchanges between bandmates. There was a kinship there that extended across the entire stage.
I paid particular attention to Shane’s interactions with his fiddle player, Bennett, because Shane had told me during our interview that the two had started playing together around 2009 or 2010. There is history in a musical relationship that lasts that long. From where I was standing in the pit, that familiarity and connection appeared to extend throughout the whole band.
Shane was performing, certainly, but it didn’t feel performative. He played to his audience as though he had a personal relationship with every single person standing in that Oklahoma field. And judging by their response, plenty of those people felt the same way.
Then, right around dusk, Shane asked the crowd to pull out their phones and turn on their lights. I looked out across the field and saw thousands upon thousands of illuminated phones stretching into the distance. For all I know, the International Space Station could have spotted us from orbit.
It was one of those moments you can’t fully appreciate through somebody else’s photographs. You had to be there. And I was incredibly glad that I was.
Another Opportunity
Looking back, I think there’s something fortunate about meeting Shane Smith before I fully understood the size of his following.
I met a kind, approachable musician who remembered being terrified at his first open mic nights. A songwriter who still believes in taking his time. A bandleader who spoke about the people who helped him get started and readily recommended other musicians he believes deserve an audience. Then I watched thousands of people celebrate the music he and his band had spent years building.
The two experiences made perfect sense together.
And now, there’s another opportunity on the horizon. Shane Smith & the Saints are scheduled to perform at Cain’s Ballroom in Tulsa, Oklahoma, on December 3, 2026.
D’ark Media has reached back out to the band’s management, as well as Cain’s Ballroom, in hopes of returning to document another performance. This time, my Director of Photography, Casey Biggs, and I hope to capture the band in a more intimate venue, with another opportunity to photograph and film the musicians and the people who have followed them along the way.
Nothing is confirmed yet, but I’m certainly hoping we get to go back.
Because after watching a field full of people sing their hearts out to Shane Smith & the Saints, I understand a little more about what they’ve spent all these years building. And next time, I’ll know exactly whose voice I’m hearing.
Interview conducted September 19, 2026, at Born & Raised Music Festival in Pryor, Oklahoma.
Interview and editorial: Amanda Rey | Photography: D’ark Media