Charlie Peacock, with a stage name that sounds like it belongs to a pop star, has made a name for himself not just as a performer but as an influential producer, songwriter, and label owner. While he experienced a cult following as a singer-songwriter in the 1980s, particularly among progressive Christian music enthusiasts who appreciated his integration of spiritual themes into the alternative rock scene, he never achieved mainstream fame. His daughter humorously encapsulated his status when she remarked he was ?just famous,? a sentiment Peacock (born Charlie Ashworth) found amusing enough to include in his memoir, reflecting the duality of his career.
In his memoir, ?Roots and Rhythm: A Life in Music,? Charlie Peacock shares an extensive array of memories from his dynamic 1980s journey with labels like Island and A&M, as well as the alternative Christian label Exit Records. His career has taken numerous unexpected turns?from being a leading figure in the Sacramento rock scene to achieving commercial success in Nashville, notably with Amy Grant’s ?Each Heartbeat.? He founded the Re:suppose label and nurtured artists like Switchfoot, ultimately achieving significant recognition as the producer for the Civil Wars’ acclaimed albums. Adding to his multifaceted career, Peacock ventured into the jazz realm, making waves on the jazz charts while grappling with a serious neurological condition, showcasing his resilience and adaptability in the music industry.
As one might expect from Peacock’s writing style, ?Roots and Rhythm? serves not only as a career retrospective but also as a profound spiritual memoir. It delves into the complexities of his geography and heritage, alongside his affection for literary figures like Kerouac and Coltrane, all interwoven with his journey as a musician. This autobiography is tailored for readers eager to discover the intricacies of the music industry while also seeking broader insights into life’s significant questions. In a conversation with Variety, Peacock discussed the arrival of his book at bookstores, highlighting its layered narratives and philosophical explorations.
With two books released within a year?one co-authored with your wife, Andi Ashworth, titled ?Why Everything That Doesn?t Matter, Matters So Much: The Way of Love in a World of Harm? (2024)?how did you manage the writing process for both? It seems this memoir required significant thought and careful crafting over many years.
Absolutely! I recently asked Andi if she remembered that I began writing this memoir 15 years ago, and we both agreed. I initiated the writing process when we returned to Northern California, where we had a home. During that time, I felt compelled to explore my roots and reflect on my upbringing in the farming community of Yuba City during the ’50s and ’60s. This exploration helped me recognize how my past shaped my identity. Additionally, I examined my experiences in proximity to San Francisco and how Bill Graham?s diverse concert lineups influenced my eclectic musical taste, showcasing artists like Jefferson Airplane alongside Albert King and Miles Davis.
Your memoir contains multiple narratives within its pages, potentially deserving of their own books. You could have easily written about your familial background, the intricacies of the music business, or your philosophical and spiritual reflections. Readers might come seeking different insights?whether they?re curious about your spiritual journey or your thoughts on the music industry.
?I want to know who was in the room??indeed, that?s an insightful approach. I can share this with you, knowing you?re a journalist and will respect it: I initially envisioned this book as an exploration of epistemology, the study of knowledge and belief.
That?s an intriguing revelation about your writing process.
For me, it became a book about how I come to know what I know. As I examined various threads, I discovered surprising connections among my stories. Initially, these narratives may seem disparate to first-time readers, but I realized they were profoundly interconnected. This realization guided the structure of the memoir, allowing me to weave a coherent narrative throughout.
Your memoir navigates through time and themes, creating dynamic connections that enhance the reading experience rather than dwelling on a single topic for too long.
Exactly! Like you, I?ve read over a hundred music biographies and autobiographies, and the ones that resonate most with me, such as Elvis Costello?s and Bob Dylan?s ?Chronicles,? share that same dynamic structure. One of my ongoing challenges throughout my music career has been being recognized as a writer rather than merely a musician writing a book. I aimed to create this memoir as a piece of art, transcending the notion of ?Oh, I?ve had a music career, so I should write a book.? That was not the driving force behind this project.
Over the course of 15 years, did you uncover aspects of your story that evolved and weren?t part of your initial drafts?
The themes of interconnectedness and the power of place were present from the beginning, but I found that a significant tension emerged: you cannot thrive in the music industry without being in the name-making business. Yet, being in that business can be soul-crushing. I wanted to wrestle with this reality as someone who?s not a household name, as my daughter humorously points out in the book??just famous.? It reflects the struggle of being a largely behind-the-scenes figure in a world where name recognition often opens doors faster than talent or the quality of one?s work. This tension became a recurring theme throughout the memoir, as I observed others face similar challenges and moments of collapse. In the music industry, the journey of self-proving never truly ends.
Your writing reflects a sentiment: ?Name-making is among the most exhausting and inhumane pursuits.? It?s challenging to convince a 21-year-old that focusing on this aspect isn?t essential, especially in a world driven by impressions.
Indeed, Andi and I had a conversation recently over dinner about the emergence of ?impressions? in the industry. The reality is that many great artists have been signed based on a gut feeling, akin to Malcolm Gladwell?s ?blink? thesis. There are stories of visionary figures who instantly recognized talent and offered deals without relying on metrics, anticipating a future of creativity. In this metrics-driven world, such spontaneity seems almost absurd.
Your memoir outlines pivotal transitions in your career, highlighting instances where you recognized when a path was no longer fruitful. For example, your departure from the church-centered scene in Sacramento and your time in the Exit Records community before moving to Nashville. Was it always clear to you when something wasn?t working?
I touched on this in my writing about the influence of the Beats on me as a youth and my roots in migrant culture. I embody a spirit of individualism, often rebelling against the status quo. However, I also enjoy collaborating with others and maintaining positive relationships. This creates a tension when I realize that my artistic freedom has diminished in a particular environment. The strong familial influences and narratives from my past linger, driving my creative impulses. When I feel stifled and unable to improvise, I recognize that it?s time to seek new opportunities, as I deeply value the thrill of risk and surprise in music.
You begin your memoir with a dramatic moment?the breakup of the Civil Wars, a peak in your career as their producer. You use this as a metaphor for the unpredictable nature of a music career.
Indeed, younger readers may not have yet experienced the ups and downs of a career, but there will come a moment when they find themselves reflecting on their worth despite achieving success. They may question their ability to reinvent themselves and regain recognition in an industry that is constantly evolving. Every artist, including myself and T Bone Burnett, must possess the desire to continuously redefine themselves and prove their worth. This quest can be exhausting, often shifting the focus inward, whereas with age, one ideally seeks to build and uplift others rather than chase personal fame. However, competition remains fierce in every profession, with new talented individuals emerging constantly.
How much of survival in this industry comes down to luck, and how much is due to individuals like yourself being hardwired to adapt at the right moments?
In my memoir, I touch on the importance of hyper-vigilance and resilience, which have been crucial for me?even in times of vulnerability. I once took a childhood PTSD assessment and scored a 6, but on the resilience scale, I scored a perfect 10. When I fell ill a few years ago and visited the Mayo Clinic, the doctors explained that my resilience delayed my breakdown. I had cultivated a capacity to endure pain, both physical and emotional, which propelled me to navigate the challenges of a music career.
Being candid, I?ve experienced countless tearful moments and absurdities throughout my journey. Yet each morning, I find the strength to carry on, regardless of the hardships. In the past, I sought refuge in substance abuse, but I learned that this path only led to further complications. Instead, I focused on my craft?writing songs, producing records, collaborating with talented musicians, and ensuring I was well-prepared. This commitment allowed me to transcend my pain and continue pursuing my dreams, even when the odds seemed against me.
Charlie Peacock
Jeremy Cowart
As your daughter noted, you?re not a household name, merely ?just famous.? Did you ever struggle with the desire to be a pop star, or was the transition to behind-the-scenes work a smooth one?
It wasn?t an easy transition. I must admit to feelings of confusion and jealousy at times. However, my analytical nature quickly helped me understand: if artist A excels in the public-facing role, it?s clear that blending my talents with theirs enhances the overall project. I began to see my value lay in supporting others, contributing a part of myself to each collaboration, which often resulted in exponential growth for those projects.
I lacked the ability to manage my own career effectively because of my stubbornness. If I?m honest, I might have been the artist I?d struggle to work with. My focus was always on what I wanted to express in any given moment, and I never approached music for monetary gain. My early partnership with A&M Records under David Kahne taught me the importance of maintaining an art-centric approach while achieving commercial success. I?ve never shied away from making mistakes in pursuit of creating something meaningful.
Despite the challenges you faced throughout your career, there?s a sense of contentment rather than frustrated ambition. You seem to prioritize your role as a husband and father over personal fame.
Indeed! Once my children reached a certain age, my priorities shifted. I embraced my identity as a dad and husband, feeling fortunate to lead a creative life. It became absurd to yearn for pop stardom at 35; it felt foolish to chase after something that no longer aligned with my reality. I also found it liberating not to be confined to a specific genre, as I had explored multiple musical lanes throughout my career.
That approach often contradicted what record labels typically desire?artists who fit neatly into defined categories. I had several musical styles to explore, which complicated my chances of being a pop star. Even someone like Paul McCartney, despite his legendary status, has faced challenges with audience reception when he veers into different genres. If someone of his caliber struggles, I certainly didn?t expect to break through with my eclectic interests. However, I?ve always admired artists like Paul Simon who continue to innovate and explore new territories, serving as beacons of inspiration for those of us navigating our creative paths.
Jeremy Cowart
For those interested in the history of contemporary Christian music, your memoir provides rich insights, particularly regarding the 1980s crossover attempts. You draw parallels to U2’s journey during that time, where they faced pressure to abandon mainstream music for purely spiritual endeavors. However, your experience differed as you were part of the Warehouse scene in Sacramento, which encouraged reaching secular audiences. Can you elaborate on that complex landscape?
Certainly! My experience contrasted with U2’s trajectory, especially considering artists like Steve Soles and T Bone Burnett who had already established themselves with Dylan. My time at the Warehouse in Sacramento involved a church community that sought to create a unique musical expression without being pigeonholed as strictly Christian artists. Ironically, they opted to sign a distribution deal with a Christian label, which added another layer of complexity to our identity. I aimed to highlight this narrative, shedding light on the philosophical conversations surrounding our artistic choices, even as our journeys often felt financially precarious. Reflecting on it, I recognize that this struggle has been a recurring theme throughout my career, as my distribution has often shaped my identity in ways I didn?t fully anticipate.
Moreover, I didn?t consider myself na?ve, but I did believe that if I explained my artistic intent to others, they would understand. That assumption was misguided. It became clear that my identity was often defined by how I was distributed, a realization that has haunted me throughout my career. While I?ve always welcomed collaboration with various projects and communities, being labeled a CCM artist has always made me uncomfortable. From a spiritual perspective, I?ve seen my purpose as a musician to transcend boundaries, and any attempts to confine me to a category have felt like a personal conflict.
Nonetheless, I respect the historical context and strive to tell the story accurately. I recount the challenges and philosophical debates prevalent during that time, illustrating how
