I was introduced to Peacock’s music by a guitarist friend in Spain, Ibon Errazkin, who said to me, “It sounds like a person thinking. But confidence and bravery are distinct.” And what all the stars she’s known have, she continues, is “confidence.” “Sometimes that’s all they have?” I suggest, but Peacock has already moved on to another thought, just as she does in her songs. Even so, when I interview this elusive singer-songwriter after one of her rare concerts, she says, “I lack confidence.” I point out that her career-a series of big swerves made up of innumerable small ones-indicates the opposite. (It’s not an assumed name, but not her given one, either-she married the jazz bassist Gary Peacock and kept the excellent moniker after they split.) What’s more, when I meet her, she talks like a rock star: “Mick Ronson told me the air was good in Woodstock, so I moved there.” And, as all her album covers from the nineteen-seventies to the present make clear, she has the look of one, too. Photograph from Jazz Archive Hamburg / ullstein bild / GettyĪnnette Peacock has the name of a rock star. None of the musician Annette Peacock’s albums from the eighties are in print or available on the major streaming platforms.
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