By any measure, Peter Frampton should be dead. In the late 1970s he attained a sort of fame—in the aftermath of the release of his record-breaking 11-million selling live album Frampton Comes Alive—that few experience, and even fewer survive. The predictable career and personal ups and downs followed: crashed cars, rehab, ugly break-ups. Frampton clawed his way back, with a bit of help from his childhood pal David Bowie (who brought him along as his lead guitarist on his 1987 Glass Spider world tour), earning a Grammy for his gorgeous instrumental album Fingerprints in 2006, and building his audience back the old-fashioned way: through relentless touring.
Then, in 2019, Frampton was diagnosed with inclusion body myositis, a degenerative muscular disease. At first unsteady on his feet, Frampton soon found himself unable to walk without assistance. Then it became clear that the disease was affecting his guitar playing. During the promotional run for his best-selling memoir, he announced a farewell tour and, when I interviewed him and then saw him perform at Madison Square Garden, in the fall of 2019, it really did seem like the end.
When I caught up with Frampton during the pandemic, he had all but given up the guitar. Busying himself with archival work, he was looking down the barrel of a long, slow decline, and a retirement hardly befitting one of the true greats of the Golden Age of rock and roll.
Again, though, he fought his way back. He started playing the guitar again, challenging himself to find ways around the effects of his disease that wouldn’t compromise the high artistic bar he had always set for himself, got back in the studio, and, eventually, got back on the road, too.
Seated now, out of necessity, fans were ecstatic to see Frampton again, and he seemed to draw something from that energy, playing in new, inspired ways.
Earlier this year, after the support of hundreds of thousands of supportive fans in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s “fan vote,” it was announced that Frampton would be inducted with this year’s class.
Now, Peter Frampton and his longtime band have hit the road for the cheekily named the Positively Thankful Tour. But he found time to sit down with the Daily Beast to reflect on the price of fame, the state of political affairs in his adopted home country, his impending Rock Hall induction, and the excitement he still gets from strapping on a guitar, a journey he began more than 60 years ago.
Not long ago, there was a box set of your early solo records that came out, which was beautiful and sounded great. It’s 48 years since Frampton Comes Alive. When you remember that level of fame, and you watch young people now who are not necessarily musicians or artists—they can be social media influencers or young actors, and they’re trying to navigate what you went through—do you remember that experience, first of all, and do you empathize with them?
Of course I remember. It was like blitzkrieg for me. You’ve been in a couple of successful bands before, and now you’re a solo artist, and you think you’re going to be prepared for it, but you’re not. But we didn’t have the internet. We didn’t have the iPhone. There wasn’t a constant stream of real-time gossip about me. Nobody really knew anything about me, whereas now, everybody gets pulled to shreds. Their personal lives are fair game. That happened back then, obviously, in Hollywood and the music business, but it’s never been quite like it is right now. I’m very glad that the Comes Alive success happened when it did, because at least I maintained my privacy to a certain extent.
You have to relate to somebody like Taylor Swift, who is clearly great at what she does, and is great at working her public persona and has embraced it. But by the same token, there’s a dark side to that experience. There’s a downside to that level of fame. It’s got to be exhausting.
First of all, I think that she is fantastic at handling everything, from having the microphone taken away from her at the VMAs—I mean, that was bizarre—and just everything that’s being thrown at her every day. She’s a much stronger character than I am. I think she’s handled it so well. I saw a little bit of the documentary where she was speaking her mind about guns. I applaud her. But it’s hard to put myself back in that. It’s almost like it happened to somebody else. I remember every detail, don’t get me wrong. But it’s almost like that was some other guy that I know.
You certainly struggled, and did a lot of that in public. Having overcome the dark side of that level of fame, do you worry for young artists? Not all of them are Taylor Swift. Not all of them seem to be handling it well. Do you have advice for them? Do you worry for them? Maybe they shouldn’t make a movie with Robert Stigwood?
The thing is, The Beatles and the Stones and The Who, they all had three or four other guys in the band to talk to about what was going on. The Beatles actually said, after they met Elvis, “What a shame he doesn’t have band members to talk to.” I’m not comparing myself to him, but that I did feel. So, yeah, it’s very hard for new acts. I do worry about that. The Mick Jaggers of this world that are business savvy, as well as being iconic musically, with it all going on, are rare. Most musicians only deal with the creative side of their brain. And a lot of people along the way—managers, agents, and record companies—pounce on that. They know that their golden goose can lay some more golden eggs if they just push them a little further and have them say yes to a tour that’s twice as long, no matter how exhausted they may get. Or they’ll send them straight back into the studio, without any break, or enough time to write decent new material. It can be short sighted.
You mentioned politics, you mentioned Taylor Swift taking a stand for sensible gun laws. I saw you at the Artists for Action to Prevent Gun Violence show at NYU last year. You’re vocal about politics on social media. You use your platform very effectively, and you don’t seem to care if longtime fans disagree with you. This is a completely insane moment we find ourselves in. Talk a little about the moment we’re in, historically and politically, but also your hopes and fears for the next few months, and the election.
Well, obviously, I hope that Kamala Harris is voted in. I’m a Democrat. I endorse her. But it’s a bizarre time right now, with Biden dropping out, the attempted assassination, and all that. It’s like a movie—a bad movie, actually. I have nearly always been up to the minute with everything, but when everything happened over the last few months, I didn’t drop out, but I needed time to just not see Mr. Orange on my TV. I needed a break from it, because if he’s not getting attention, he’s p–sed off. So I pulled back, just a little bit. But now I’m really energized. I am totally supporting Kamala Harris and all the down ballot Democrats—all the locals—and doing my bit to help. And I’m hoping for the best, because my belief is, if [Trump] gets in again, he’ll never leave. People say, “Well, we’ve got Congress, and he has to go through them.” But the man has just been given a free hand to commit any crime and get away with it, if he’s elected. So, tell me how that’s not going to help him stay in office? They almost did it before, and if it weren’t for his vice president, they would have. And now those fake electors are the electors. It’s scary, because I do believe our democracy is on the table. So, I’m doing everything I can to support Kamala Harris, and all the Democrats.
And you live right there in the heart of it, in Nashville. Do you have friends who disagree with you? Do you have those uncomfortable conversations?
Most of my friends are of the same beliefs as myself. But some of my friends are definitely not. We’ve gotten into heated conversations, yes, but now we don’t talk about it, because it will affect our friendship. I wish they didn’t support Mr. Orange, but it’s up to them. I try to love thy neighbor.
It sounds like you’re more Christian than the Christians.
No, no, I’m not religious at all. But I get what you mean.
You came here from England, fell in love with America and settled here. You made a life here by choice. I have to imagine that sense of fear for our democracy—our way of life—is pretty intense.
Absolutely. I mean, it’s right there. We’re one step away from a dictator.
So, the last time I talked to you officially, for an interview, you pretty much thought it was the end of being on the road for you. And then, not too long after that, you toured England and played the Royal Albert Hall. Now that you’ve been out a few times, talk to me about the challenges of dealing with your disease on the road, how things are different for you, and the logistics of it all.
Well, we all sit now. I would be standing if I could, but I can’t. I have to sit, so the band sits. So, there’s that. And I find that there’s an even closer connection with the audience, because we’re sitting.
As far as playing, I made the decision in 2019 that I didn’t want to play anymore if I couldn’t be at the top of my game. But, as my muscles have changed, I’ve adapted. I’m maybe playing a few less notes, but every note has so much more meaning now. But I think that even if I have to play with a slide, I’ll keep playing. But right now, my fingers are doing what I ask them to do. And to be honest, I’m enjoying the challenge.
As I said, I was at the charity show at NYU last Christmas. I hadn’t seen you in a couple of years at that point, and I was struck by the soulfulness and richness of your playing. When we play, it’s an expression of our own voices, right? So, do you find that there’s a renewed soulfulness to your playing, or that it has evolved because of the challenges you’re facing?
Yeah, I do, actually. I feel that it’s because every note, to me, is worth so much more now. I think that there’s more soul, even if there’s maybe a few less notes. It’s making me think slightly differently when I’m playing, but all I can say is I’m enjoying myself, and I will keep playing while I’m enjoying myself, so that’s that.
Let’s talk about the Rock Hall. It was beautiful to see the outpouring from fans, who really wanted to see you get in there. You were one of the artists that people were rooting for; that most people couldn’t believe wasn’t already in the Hall. How does that, at this point in your career, feel? It has to be enormously gratifying.
Oh, of course. I’m totally honored. I never expected it. I was eligible many years ago, and I realized that, for some reason, it wasn’t going my way. So, I kind of put it to the back of my mind and forgot about it. That’s why it was such a shock. That outpouring—the outpouring of fan votes, and the love that I got from the people—was tremendous. Every day I would look and it was amazing. I stopped looking in the end, because people would say “So-and-so’s going to overtake you,” and I would think, “I’m in the top four! F—! I don’t care!” In the end, I believe Foreigner and I ended up being number one and number two. And I’ve spoken to them—we’ve known each other for years—and I’m very excited for them and they are for me, so it’s great.
But I have to admit that going last year, to the induction ceremony, and playing with Sheryl Crow, who really put me out there, I think it made a lot of people realize, “Wait, you mean he’s not in?” And, I think, because the Hall of Fame has had a change of management, things are very different now. I don’t believe that the Rock Hall selections were realistic all the time before, and I think there were some bad omissions, obviously, and there were some bad inductions. But I think now, with the change in management, change in board of directors and everything, it’s going to be different. Because if you looked at the public vote compared to who actually got in, they were very similar.
Which wasn’t always the case.
It was probably one of the first or second times it’s happened. I feel the choices really need to be in line with what the public are thinking, because the reputation the Hall of Fame had was not great with the public.
I also think that that’s somewhat of a hangover effect from the old regime. In other words, people are used to being disappointed, so they’re used to complaining about the inductions, you know?
Exactly. I agree. But really, I couldn’t be more thrilled. My kids are over the moon.
When we talked, this was quite a while back, you talked about how you were working on new music, but that you were also banking demos and recordings for maybe when you wouldn’t be able to play. It sounds like you’re more confident and comfortable with the way you’re playing now. Does that open up the possibilities for more new music?
I think that even if I cannot travel anymore, I’m never going to stop making music on whatever level I can. That’s something that is so me that it’s going to happen. But yes, I am banking recordings. In fact, I write every day, and then, at the end of each week, I transfer my iPhone songs to my Mac, and then I go through them and I choose the best of them, and I edit them. So, I’ve got a list of a dozen or so ideas I want to work on all the time.
You’ve explained that process in more detail to me in the past, and I have to tell you, that is a level of organization that any musician I’ve mentioned it to is befuddled by. Everyone seems to have 10,000 voice memos on their iPhones. That’s a discipline that I think not many musicians have. Do you have any sense of where that comes from?
No, not really. It comes from my parents, I guess. My father was impeccably detailed, and my brother is the same. So, it’s a slower process for me, but I’ve never been a quick writer, or as prolific as I would like to be. But I will say this: there will not be one thing that will be released that doesn’t give me goosebumps when I listen to it myself. That’s the criteria. Goosebumps? Yes. No goosebumps? Throw it out.
Jeff Slate is a songwriter and music journalist who has written for the Daily Beast for over a decade. He is the co-author of “The Authorized Roy Orbison” and has written liner notes for The Beatles, Bob Dylan and The Rolling Stones, among others.
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