It’s time toupdate the stock expectations of what a country gig audience looks like. “At anOrvillePeckconcert you’ll have a drag queen standing next to indie folk rockers standing next to fratboys who are next to an 80-year-old couple of die-hard country fans,” says the softly-spoken gentleman perched next to me on the bumper of his eight-seater tour van, gently perspiring in the Texan sun, under the black Lone Ranger leather fringing partially veiling his face.
An anonymous, new-on-the-scene former ballet dancer (turned punk rock drummer), decked-out impeccably in Nudie Cohn-style camp cowboy threads, Peck has simultaneously charmed staunchly conservative country and western fans and the LGBTQ crowd, people who, in his words, “might not have felt invited along to the country music party before.”
The world has only known Orville Peck for a few short months, but this Canadian country crooner is already the darling of the queer scene, beloved by RuPaul’s Drag Race breakout drag queen stars such as Trixie Mattel and Detox, who enthuse to their combined three million Instagram followers about their new favourite country and western singer.
I’m interviewing Peck backstage at one of the most progressive music festivals on the planet, Trans-Pecos Festival of Music + Love, in the bohemian art mecca of Marfa, a six-hour drive from Austin into Texas’s wild west. As an LGBTQ-friendly, socially inclusive and racially diverse festival, programmed by musically fastidious Austinites, a few years ago the idea of an emerging country-pop artist topping the bill would have been unlikely.
But although his music adheres to classic country tropes– big Roy Orbison-style vocals, nostalgia-laden lyrics and twangy guitar lines – Peck is no ordinary rising country star. His debut album, Pony, was nominated for the coveted Canadian Polaris Music Prize, and he’s currently on a punishing (and sold-out) tour of North America, with dates in the UK and Europe this autumn. He can also be found man-spreading, rodeo-style, on the cover of the A/W issue of GQ Style, the first time they’ve ever featured a country artist on their cover.
But despite his fashion-mag-friendly aesthetic, there’s not a whiff of irony lingering aroundPeck’s music, which faithfully walks the line between 1960s-inspired country-pop (see Turn To Hate) and westernised 1980s power ballads (listen to the gloriously melodramatic Hope To Die). And it’s his searing sincerity and red-blooded reverence for classic country music that has won over an older and more elusive legion of fans, bringing big gay love ballads to a notoriously conservative and heteronormative genre.
“We’ve been indoctrinated into this belief that music is a divisive factor – like polarised politics – but people are rebelling against this, and I think today there’s a feeling that music has the power to transcend boundaries and bring people together,” he says.
It’s fair to say that OrvillePeckhas landed on the country scene at just the right time. Already associated with misogynistic lyrics and regressive politics, the rise of what music critics disparagingly termed “bro country” in recent years had led country music pretty far down the dirt path from any sort of cultural relevance. A darn shame, when you consider that back in 1975 Loretta Lynn was crooning about contraception and freedom in her hard-won (country radio initially refused to play the track) hit and feminist anthem The Pill.
“Good art generally emerges from traumatic circ*mstances, and right now, at such a turbulent time in history, we’re all feeling things like confusion, frustration, anger and fear,” Peck says. “Country music has always dealt with these themes. And cowboys represent independence, freedom and a rebel spirit. I think this is why my music resonates right now, it’s a sort of pinch-me, stars-aligning moment.”
Whether people first come across Peckthrough his widely-shared visually sumptuous music videos (his three music video collaborations with photographer Carlos Santolalla have totalled over 1 million views on YouTube) or on the cover of a magazine, it’s hard not to wonder initially if an artist so stupendously stylish can also be, well, sincere.
“I’ve never felt that style and substance are mutually exclusive,” he sighs, quoting the old Harlan Howard description of country music as “three chords and the truth”. “Country music has to be personal and honest, otherwise it’s nothing, but I feel that writing a good song is just the beginning,” he says. “We’ve been in a bit of a cultural recession for the past 10 years, but right now there are some new ideas and perspectives poking through mainstream country music. And although I come from a different background than most, I feel perfectly at home and welcomed within the country music scene.”
As Peck is at pains to point out, theatricality and campness has always been part of country music’s DNA – which makes it’s conservative-leaning connotations all the more ridiculous. The country music he listened to as an “awkward teenager in Canada” – Dolly Parton, Patsy Cline and Johnny Cash – all combines intensely personal storytelling with unashamed pageantry and melodrama. “Johnny Cash, while not necessarily a flamboyant performer, concocted this whole legend around himself as a convict character in black suits,” he says. “There were gay cowboys and self-mythology in country music long before me.”
To his fans, Peck’s anonymity only adds to his appeal, which is frankly refreshing in an age of celebrity oversharing across social media, and “faux-sincerity”, as he puts it. “I really don’t understand why people think I’m mysterious. I mean, they can’t see my nose, but I’m more open, personal and exposed than I’ve ever been.”
With a bit of online snooping, it’s not hard to find outOrvillePeck’s real name and full CV, but, presented with an arms-wide-open dancing gay cowboy singing about the boys who broke his heart with raw emotional honesty, it seems sort of crass not to repay his trust. And, in person, while he deftly avoids speaking about his past, he frequently forgets to be cagey. Asked about his British fanbase, and he beams. “I’m looking forward to my UK shows so, so much,” he enthuses. “I lived in East London for four years - Stoke Newington, Hackney Central, London Fields - and although I’ve lived in a lot of places, London really does feel like a home.”
So running a reverse google image search onOrvillePeck’s tattoos seems akin to digging for pictures of Dolly Parton without her wig, or feeling pointlessly put-out upon learning David Bowie’s real surname was Jones.“It’s a misconception that I wear a mask because I have something to hide, or that the anonymity of a mask is what’s enabling me to be authentic,” he says. “I don’t consider my mask any different to Dolly Parton stepping onstage in a wig. It’s an aesthetic decision, a stage persona that allows me to express myself better than ever before.”
So if it’s not the mask or the new name that’s enabled him to be ‘himself’, what has? “Part of it is definitely getting older, and more experienced,” he says. “In my previous bands I had imposter syndrome and could never really enjoy my success. I came from a very anarchic, subversive, counterculture background, but now, my only agenda is to be sincere.”
What we officially know about Peck is this: he lives in Toronto, he’s gay, he comes from a dance background and he’s an emigre from the punk rock scene. For his fans, this is enough, because they also know, from his music, that he’s had his heart broken all over the world, he’s grappling with self-identity as he evolves from being a young pretty gay boy on the party scene to a more centred 30-something country artist, and he’s struggled with isolation and rootlessness. “Country music has always been about intensely personal storytelling, and although my backstory might be different, everyone can relate to the themes I sing about,” he say. “Truthfully, this is the easiest job I’ve ever had. I’ve been a performer since I was young, as a dancer, actor, and musician in different bands, but this is the easiest job I’ever had. On this tour, I get to go onstage and be <myself>.
InPeck’s hands, country music is doing what it’s always done best: spinning stories about life, love, sorrow and loss. And softly massaging deep-seated issues like misogyny, hom*ophobia and social isolation, pressing persistently for progress underneath the retro razzle-dazzle of Southern belle charm and red-blooded cowboy culture. In this regard, country music has always worn a mask; this year, it’s got fringing.
OrvillePeck’s UK tour begins on Wednesday 23rd October, with dates in Glasgow, Leeds, London and Brighton
