
#2489 - Ryan Bingham
- Overview In this wide-ranging conversation, Joe Rogan hosts musician and actor Ryan B...
- The episode moves through Bingham's authentic, unvarnished life—from the physical bru...
- The conversation has the feel of two old friends catching up, with Rogan visibly admi...
Readers who want the substance of a podcast episode before listening.
The Joe Rogan Experience / Joe Rogan
Overview
In this wide-ranging conversation, Joe Rogan hosts musician and actor Ryan Bingham, whose life story reads like a Western screenplay: a childhood spent ranching and riding bulls, a music career born from campfire songs written in the back of a pickup truck, and an acting role on *Yellowstone* that came about because creator Taylor Sheridan discovered Bingham could actually do cowboy work. The episode moves through Bingham's authentic, unvarnished life—from the physical brutality of bull riding to the creative freedom of songwriting—while both men reflect on what gets lost when modern life replaces direct experience with screens, regulations, and mediated reality. The conversation has the feel of two old friends catching up, with Rogan visibly admiring Bingham's lived-in credibility and Bingham remaining humble about a career that seems almost too perfectly plotted.
Austin's Music Community and the Appeal of Texas
Bingham opens by praising the Austin-area community that supported his career, describing how the local culture of songwriters and music lovers created an environment where artists could develop organically. He contrasts this with his time in California, noting that Texas feels like "real people" and that crossing the state line brings an immediate sense of relief. Rogan agrees, sharing that he is in the process of moving back to Texas himself after years in Topanga Canyon, and both men express a shared appreciation for the state's friendliness and lack of pretense. Bingham emphasizes that while no place is perfect, the Texas community's willingness to get behind artists and support them has been crucial to his career—a theme that recurs throughout the conversation as he credits specific mentors and local venues for his development.
Yellowstone, Montana, and the Pull of Wilderness
Bingham describes his experience playing a character on *Yellowstone* as "one of the easiest jobs," since his smaller role meant working only one or two days a week, leaving the rest of his time free to fly fish and explore Montana's backcountry. Rogan notes that the show inspired massive migration to Montana, which has created tension with locals who resent California plates and the influx of newcomers. Bingham acknowledges the perspective of longtime residents who "fought for it" and now feel their way of life is threatened, but Rogan pushes back, arguing that Americans should welcome each other rather than gatekeep desirable places. The conversation shifts to the spiritual power of mountain landscapes, with Bingham recounting a life-changing six-week guide school at Royal Tyne Outfitters in Montana, where he learned to pack mules and horses, sleep under tarps, and build fires in wet conditions. He recalls waking up to snow falling on the horses and feeling that he might never want to return to civilization, a moment that crystallized his sense of where he belonged.
Backcountry Skills and the Value of Practical Knowledge
Bingham details the curriculum of the guide school, which included wilderness first aid taught by a paramedic, leatherwork, horse shoeing, fly fishing, entomology, and fire building. One memorable drill required building a flame three to four feet high in two minutes using only a lighter; while Bingham struggled with small twigs, a student from Alaska simply broke off a large dead pine branch and had a massive fire in seconds. The instructor emphasized that such skills could save a life if a hunter got injured in the snow, giving every lesson a clear purpose. Rogan shares his own experience using Fritos as kindling during a rainy Alaska hunting trip with Steve Rinella, marveling at how the oil in the chips makes them burn like candles. Both men agree that learning these skills—even if never needed—provides a deep satisfaction and connection to human capability that modern life often erodes.
The Primal Connection to Animals and Nature
The conversation turns to the ancient relationship between humans and horses, with Bingham describing how his young son has a natural "mojo" with animals, spending hours petting the ears of an old mule named Honey. Rogan mentions equine therapy for people with anxiety and depression, and Bingham confirms that even he finds peace simply walking to the barn and being around horses. Both men speculate that thousands of years of human survival dependent on horses have hardwired this connection into our DNA, and that being around them "wakes something back up." Bingham extends this to the appeal of shows like *Yellowstone* and hunting programs, arguing that people are drawn to these depictions because they tap into instincts that have become dormant in urban life. He contrasts the nervousness of city children around horses with the calm that settles over them after just twenty minutes of contact, calling it "magical to watch."
Hunting, Wildlife Management, and California's Predator Problem
Rogan and Bingham discuss the challenges of hunting axis deer in Hawaii, where the animals were introduced as a gift to King Kamehameha in the 1800s and now number 30,000 on the island of Lanai against only 3,000 people. Bingham describes how the deer evolved around tigers, making them extraordinarily fast and difficult to bow hunt—he shares a slow-motion video of an arrow traveling 275 feet per second that still misses because the deer hears it coming and dodges at the last instant. The conversation shifts to California's wildlife management, with Rogan criticizing the state's $110 million bridge project for mountain lions and the ban on hunting with dogs, which he argues has made it nearly impossible to control predator populations. Bingham recounts a mountain lion that lounges on his front porch when he's away and a friend's encounter with a lion carrying a dead rabbit in its mouth at lunchtime. Both men express frustration with conservation policies that prioritize predator protection over human safety, with Rogan arguing that "team people" should come first and that responsible hunting is the most effective management tool.
The Palisades Fire and California's Governance
Bingham describes evacuating from the Palisades fire with his horses, wife, and dogs, driving through hurricane-force winds with snapping power lines and falling trees. He woke the next morning with a sore throat from smoke, only to find the Altadena fire had started nearby, forcing them to move north and eventually east to Texas. Rogan shares his own evacuation experience from the 2018 Woolsey fire, noting that his neighbor who stayed behind to protect houses guided firefighters to a roof that had just caught fire, saving the neighborhood. Both men express frustration that the Santa Ynez Reservoir was not full when the fires hit, with Rogan calling it "complete, acceptable incompetence." Bingham worries about the long-term toxicity of burned homes—electric cars, treated lumber, electronics, and old building materials—seeping into the groundwater and air, and notes that neighbors have developed their own fire preparedness plans because they can't depend on government response. The conversation broadens into criticism of California's regulatory environment, with Rogan arguing that progressive politics and bureaucracy have made the state unlivable for many, driving people to leave despite its natural beauty.
Bull Riding: From Childhood to Professional Career
Bingham reveals that he started riding steers at age ten, describing it as "like little league baseball" in his community. His uncle, a professional bull rider, taught him that success is "all mental"—not about strength, but about believing "I know I can and I will." He rode bulls through high school and college at Tarleton State University in Stephenville, Texas, eventually earning his pro card just as the Professional Bull Riders (PBR) organization was starting. Bingham contrasts the old-school rodeo culture—where bulls were less selectively bred, riders smoked cigarettes and drank beer behind the chutes, and only one or two bulls out of twenty might be truly dangerous—with today's sport, where bulls are bred like racehorses and every animal is a serious threat. He recounts a particularly gruesome injury in Weatherford, Texas, where a bull jerked him down, he headbutted the animal, and his hand got caught in the rope while the bull dragged and stomped him. His lip was hanging off, his front teeth were knocked out, and he drove himself to the emergency room because he had no health insurance. The experience, he says, taught him to channel fear and anxiety into focus—a skill that later served him in acting and music.
The Organic Path from Bull Riding to Music to Acting
Bingham traces his musical journey with remarkable specificity: a man in Laredo taught him the mariachi song "La Malagania" on guitar when he was sixteen or seventeen; at Tarleton, he discovered the Texas songwriting scene through artists like Jason Boland, Cross Canadian Ragweed, and Robert Earl Keane; he bought a chord book and started writing songs about his weekend adventures, performing them for friends in the back of the truck. A rodeo stock contractor named Mac Altizer encouraged him to play after-parties on flatbed trailers, which led to bar gigs where he could make $100 in tips plus free beer and food—comparable to a full day of digging holes. He never had formal music lessons, learning instead from other musicians on the road. His acting career began when producer John Linson introduced him to Taylor Sheridan, who initially wanted Bingham to write songs for *Wind River* and later, learning about his rodeo and ranching background, said, "I gotta find a way to get you in the show." Sheridan told him, "If you do good, I'll keep you on. If you suck, I'll kill you off." Bingham had no formal acting training but credits the show's experienced cast—Cole Hauser, Kelly Reilly, Luke Grimes—for creating an environment where his natural reactions worked.
The Wolf Reintroduction Controversy and Wildlife Mismanagement
Rogan brings up the recent discovery of a wolf in Los Angeles County for the first time in over a century, noting that the animal traveled more than 370 miles from Plumas County. He criticizes the reintroduction of wolves in Colorado, where captured wolves from Oregon—animals already known for killing livestock—were released near Aspen, where they immediately began killing cattle on private ranches. Bingham's friend had three wolves dropped on his ranch, and Rogan argues that the decision-makers "don't understand what they're doing" and are "monkeying around with wildlife, nature, biology." Both men express sympathy for ranchers who now must monitor their herds around the clock, and Rogan points out that the wolves are "already programmed" to kill cows, making it inevitable they would continue. The conversation touches on the broader tension between conservationists who oppose hunting and the practical realities of managing predator populations in areas where humans live and work.
Authenticity, Songwriting, and the Future of Music
Bingham reflects on the irony that people sometimes pretend to have lived the life he actually lived, noting that when he started wearing a cowboy hat in the early 2000s, it wasn't cool—he remembers being mocked by a street performer on the Santa Monica Pier who pointed at him and yelled "Brokeback Mountain." Now, he's glad to see a resurgence of young musicians playing actual instruments and writing from genuine experience, mentioning artists like Zach Bryan, Charlie Crockett, and Colter Wall as examples. Rogan marvels at Wall's song "Kate McCannon," which sounds like it was written by a 58-year-old chain-smoker but was actually recorded when Wall was 21. The conversation turns to Oliver Anthony, whose song "Rich Men North of Richmond" accumulated 236 million views on YouTube. Bingham reveals that he spoke with Anthony early in his sudden fame, advising him not to sign any contracts despite offers of $7 million advances, telling him, "You don't need nobody. You can make your own records." Bingham emphasizes that the therapeutic value of songwriting—"singing it to the wall" and getting things off his chest—matters far more than album sales or concert tickets, and that this creative core is something worth protecting "ruthlessly."
Conclusion
What stays with the listener is the sheer improbability and authenticity of Ryan Bingham's trajectory: a kid who started riding bulls at ten, learned guitar from a stranger in Laredo, wrote songs in the back of a truck, and ended up on one of the biggest television shows in the world without ever formally studying acting or music. The episode matters because it captures a vanishing archetype—the person whose skills, character, and art are forged through direct physical experience rather than digital mediation. Both Rogan and Bingham circle back repeatedly to the idea that modern life has insulated people from the realities that build resilience, and that the appeal of shows like *Yellowstone* and songs like Oliver Anthony's reflects a hunger for that lost connection. Bingham's story is a living counterargument to the notion that such lives no longer exist.
Key takeaways
- Ryan Bingham's path from bull riding to music to acting was entirely organic, with each step emerging naturally from the previous one without formal training in any discipline.
- Bingham credits the Texas music community—particularly mentors like Mac Altizer and the culture of live music in Stephenville and Austin—for creating an environment where raw talent could develop without industry gatekeepers.
- The guide school in Montana taught Bingham that practical wilderness skills (fire building, first aid, packing mules) are not just hobbies but potentially life-saving knowledge, and that learning them provides deep satisfaction.
- Both Rogan and Bingham argue that California's wildlife management policies, including the ban on hunting with dogs and the $110 million mountain lion bridge, prioritize predator protection over human safety and practical population control.
- The Palisades fire evacuation highlighted for Bingham the importance of community self-reliance and the frustration of government incompetence, particularly the empty Santa Ynez Reservoir.
- Bingham's bull riding career taught him to channel fear into focus, a mental skill he applies to acting and music; his worst injury—a torn-off lip and knocked-out teeth—required driving himself to the hospital because he had no health insurance.
- He advises young artists like Oliver Anthony to avoid signing major label contracts, arguing that talent and direct-to-audience distribution make traditional industry deals unnecessary and exploitative.
- The therapeutic value of songwriting—"singing it to the wall" and processing personal experience—is, for Bingham, more important than commercial success, and he urges aspiring writers to protect that creative core.