There’s a soulfulness, a yearning, a depth to Ken Pomeroy’s music that belies her age and harks back to a bygone era. The 22-year-old Cherokee folksinger established her aching, ethereal sound at the tender age of nine, when she began singing, writing, and playing the baritone ukulele. In the years since, she has picked up more instruments (including her go-to, the guitar), performed on stages from the Oklahoma Opry to SXSW, and even made a cameo in this summer’s blockbuster film Twisters. Along the way, Pomeroy has emerged as a new voice reviving the age-old Native Americana sound.
The lifelong Oklahoman traces the start of her musical journey back to age six, when she first heard John Denver’s “Leaving on a Jet Plane.” She proceeded to listen to the celebrated 1960s track on repeat for years, totally mesmerized by its ability to evoke emotions from deep within her.
“That song really opened my eyes about how music could make people feel. It allowed a different consciousness of mine to open up,” she recalls. “John Denver’s songwriting is so deep, and the imagery so vivid. Ever since hearing that song, I have wanted to make people feel something with my music. I want people to be able to relate to it and to not feel alone in their struggle or sadness or life.”
It’s safe to say Pomeroy certainly does that, captivating listeners with her introspective storytelling often set to melancholic melodies, per her own admission. Her arresting songs aren’t manufactured by some algorithm; rather, that’s just the way her music has sounded since the very beginning. Denver might have provided the early inspiration, but it’s her dad (who has long been in a band) and her stepmom (who transformed the family’s hot-rod shop into an intimate concert venue) who really gave Pomeroy the encouragement and access she needed to explore her musical talents.
Though she has had some formal training, the on-the-ground education gleaned from touring bands coming through town really informed her path. At 13, she played her first paid gig, a two-hour set at an Oklahoma City restaurant/music hall (though it didn’t pay much, it was still a momentous occasion). At 14, she made her first record (she has released three, with another one due out next year). By 16, she was opening for Rock & Roll Hall of Famer Wanda Jackson at the Oklahoma Opry. Throughout it all, she has been anchored by her Cherokee roots.
“Storytelling is such a huge part of Indigenous culture,” she says. “Tribal history has been told and retold through oral narrative and music. It’s probably not a coincidence that storytelling is also my favorite part of songwriting. I’ve gone through a lot in life already—sometimes I feel like I’ve already lived a lifetime—and music helps me process it all.”
Although her star was definitely rising on the local music scene, Pomeroy’s career got a meteoric boost last year when her songs “Cicadas” and “Pareidolia” appeared on the hit dramedy TV show Reservation Dogs. Giving audiences a look at everyday life on an Indian reservation, the Emmy-nominated series was at once heartwarming and heartbreaking in its honesty, not unlike Pomeroy’s music. Showrunner Sterlin Harjo (Seminole/Muscogee), also an Oklahoman, reached out personally and handpicked the songs to be featured during the show’s final season. (Since then, he has gone on to direct both her “Cicadas” and “Coyote” music videos.)
The only problem? The songs weren’t ready yet. They were just demos at that point, so they still needed to be mixed and mastered, which happened in the span of two short weeks. Similarly, Pomeroy wasn’t quite ready for the fame that followed.
“After the [Reservation Dogs] episode aired, ‘Cicadas’ totally went viral,” she recalls. “All these people were trying to Shazam the song and were asking for it on Reddit, but it hadn’t been released yet — which was probably a poor move on our part. [laugh] When we finally released ‘Cicadas,’ people were so excited, and now when we play shows all over the country, people will come up and explain that they found me through Reservation Dogs, which just feels so special.”
From that opportunity sprung more opportunities for Pomeroy this year, including getting a manager, getting signed to Rounder Records, and heading out on tour with the likes of Iron & Wine, Lukas Nelson, and Kaitlin Butts. Her life and musical partner, Dakota McDaniel, has been along for the ride.
Something that definitely wasn’t on her 2024 bingo card? Making a cameo in Twisters, which was filmed in her home state. In fact, Pomeroy wasn’t even aware she and her “Wall of Death” collaborators, James McAlister and Wilderado’s Max Rainer, were in the movie until she went to the film’s U.S. premiere in Oklahoma City.
“When we showed up on set, the director was a big fan of the music and wanted to maximize it,” she remembers. “So we played the song a few times during the shoot, but I really thought we were going to be way in the background of the scene. I took my dad to the premiere, and it was while we were watching that I found out we made the movie. I had no idea. I also didn’t know the soundtrack was going to be like the soundtrack of the summer, which was another nice surprise.”
The notion that she’s part of the modern Indigenous entertainment movement both excites and overwhelms Pomeroy, who despite her well-earned accolades still experiences imposter syndrome. Even so, she recognizes she’s helping revive a sound that came long before her.
“Music is so sacred for Native Americans,” she says. “It has so many functions in traditional culture—religious ceremonies, healing ceremonies, work songs, game songs. There’s so much rhythm and symbolism in our music, and it’s rooted in pre-America. Right now we’re seeing this resurgence of Native people in all art forms, in business, in politics. It feels like we’re reclaiming what’s ours.”
As Pomeroy’s fan club has grown, so too has curiosity about the backstory behind her powerfully emotive music. But unlike her soulful sound, that personal information isn’t available for public consumption.
“Just because I write a really introspective song doesn’t mean I want to expose what it’s about,” she says. “Some people have taken it upon themselves to try to guess what my songs are about. But really, I’m not writing and playing music for other people; I’m just allowing other people to witness what I’m doing for myself. I think eventually I’ll probably be like, ‘F*ck it,’ and just air it all out.”
Until then, fans will have to be satisfied watching Pomeroy’s latest music video, catching her on tour, and awaiting her 2025 album — oh, and feeling all the feels that her music inevitably evokes, just as she hoped it would.
