My doctor calls me a young seventy-five,” Peter Frampton says with a smile. “Which is better than an old seventy-five, right?”
For an artist who’s lived many lives – prodigy, teen idol, guitar hero, global superstar, forgotten man, comeback kid, survivor – Frampton wears it all lightly. Sitting in a sunlit room in his house, with trimmed white beard, wearing a blue denim work shirt and a Late Show With Stephen Colbert baseball cap, he looks fit and happy.
He’s surrounded by guitars of all shapes and sizes and framed family photos, and on a couch just behind him is his beloved black goldendoodle named Bigsby. He’s a service dog who has helped Frampton navigate his inclusion body myositis, a degenerative muscle disorder he’s been living with for the past seven years.
Defying the odds – and diagnosis – Frampton has continued to tour, and this spring he returned with the aptly titled Carry The Light, his first album of new material in more than a decade. “Carry the light means learning from our elders and learning from our own past,” Frampton says. Which is an ideal segue into him joining Classic Rock to reflect on various pieces of wisdom he’s picked up over the decades.
A medical diagnosis doesn’t necessarily seal your fate
A few years ago, I had a progression in my IBM that was making me feel as if I might not be able to physically play any more. After the finale tour in 2024, we went straight into the studio and recorded three albums – two blues albums and an instrumental album. Because I wanted to keep playing as much as I could. But then I realised that if we went out for shorter times, I could actually do some touring again. And it was, and still is, okay! I fully believe that playing music, writing music, loving music, all the joy that comes from that, has helped keep me young. I’m very lucky to have been born this way, with a lust for music that never ends.
A dog is man’s best friend – and teacher
There are all these clips online of Tibetan monks sitting with their dogs. In one, the monk says: “In the west, you call dogs your pets. We call dogs our teachers.” Dogs live in the present moment. They don’t dwell in the past or worry about the future. They offer gratitude and unconditional love without expectation. Good lessons to learn.
It takes time to admit father knows best
My dad was a stickler for good posture. He always used to say to me: “If you hunch over your guitar, you’re going to get stuck like that. Sit upright, son!” He’d been a lieutenant in the army, so posture was important. I would look at him and roll my eyes. Then when I was in my early forties, and I’m starting to notice I’m slightly bent over, I thought: “Dad, I hate you, you were right [laughs].” So I started working out and paying attention to my posture.
(Image credit: Lynn Goldsmith)
Self-belief and self-doubt are two sides of the same coin
I never think I’m good enough, and that’s why I push myself to become better all the time. But I also know how good I am, in that same regard. I’ve been knocked down so many times it’s ridiculous. But I believe in the old saying: ‘What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.’ That’s my nature, my makeup. I’m pugnacious. I don’t care what they say about me. I get up, move on and get back into my own thing. I’ve always been a believer that I can write a better song, play a better solo. But I never thought I was as good as I should be, in the same breath.
Imitate your heroes
When I was eight, I wanted to be Hank Marvin. I got some horn-rimmed sunglasses and knocked the glass out. I wore them everywhere, just like Hank. I don’t know what it was, but he had this incredible sound on his Stratocaster through his Vox AC-30 amp, and it was just the right thing at the right time for an eight-year-old. It absolutely set me on my path. Years later, Hank and I recorded together. We’re still great email buddies to this day. And I can still play every song by The Shadows note for note!
Be careful what you wish for
Being chased and having your clothes ripped off by girls is all very exciting, but it gets old pretty quickly. All that ‘Face of 1968’ stuff felt terrible, because in The Herd we’d been playing blues and jazzy stuff and had a serious following. And, as I was to experience later in life, a teenybopper vibe in the band can rid you of your credibility. My guitar was now slung behind my back most of the time. I probably was enjoying it at the time, but being screamed at by girls didn’t mean anything once I realised that they weren’t even listening to the music.
(Image credit: Fletcher Moore)
Keep moving forward
If I had stayed in Humble Pie, various things could’ve happened. I could have become very ill, for one. Honestly, I’m not sure how I would have been able to handle it going forward. I don’t know how long it would have lasted, even if I’d have stayed, because unfortunately drugs and drink were playing a much bigger part than I had seen before. That was one reason why I left. But it was more motivated by musical differences, and me wanting to pursue other directions and sounds.
Being an opening act teaches you how to be a headliner
As a solo act, I opened for everybody. I’d play my twenty minutes, go back to the dressing room, have a quick sip of something, then stand on the side of the stage and watch every move all these other bands did – what they played, what they said, what worked, what didn’t work. I learned how to steal the best stuff from the best bands [laughs]. Peter Wolf of the J Geils Band, Ozzy, Ray Davies… they all taught me so much in how to deal with an audience, how to build a set-list. When you start, you have your music. But there’s so much else involved in building a career and touring. For me, being an opener was like going to college.
Good input, good output
The song Buried Treasure on the new album is a tribute to Tom Petty. It was named after his Sirius XM radio show. Once a week, Tom would go to this tiny studio and bring an hour’s worth of music from his personal collection of albums, CDs, singles, this rare and out-of-print stuff. I went to class every day listening to this station, because his musical library up here, mentally, is off the charts! The amount of different music he loved is still with me every time I play.
The seventies were better for not having social media
People didn’t upset other people so readily back then, because normally they were either talking to each other on the phone, or over the fence in the backyard. Now they’re behind a keyboard being rude, and trolling each other. I remember when the internet first started, David Bowie was asked what he thought about it, and he said: “It will have a lot of good. But there’s going to be so much bad, and it’s only going to get worse.” He was right.
Too much advice can be a bad thing
I absolutely did not want to record I’m In You [fifth album, in 1977]. I knew that you’re only as good as your last record. I wish I had taken my time. But I had to sift through everyone’s agenda. I was twenty-six years old. My brain hadn’t finished growing. And I started making bad decisions, by going along with what everybody thought. “You’ve got the biggest album ever, so you want to follow it up as quickly as you can, otherwise people will forget you!” I could’ve waited three or four years. Other artists have.
Don’t underestimate the power of a good curry
I love a good Indian. It always makes me feel better. I don’t know why exactly. But a good curry really does appeal to me. And obviously, being born in England, I’ve had my fair share of ultimate Indian meals.
Don’t overthink guitar solos
Some of my favourite solos have been because I didn’t think about them at all. My mind wasn’t working, but my heart and soul were. You get to the end of the solo and say: “Let me listen to that. What did I just play?” And that’s when I know I’ve done a good solo – when I get to the end of something, and I feel really good, but I can’t remember what I just played.
Many times people come up to me after a show and say: “On Do You Feel Like We Do, you didn’t play the same talkbox solo as on the record.” And I say: “Well, the day before we recorded the live album, I didn’t play the same solo. And the day after, I didn’t play it either.”
Ironing clothes used to help me relax before a show
I think it was that zen thing of a repetitive activity relaxing your mind. Also, I had read that Eric Clapton would iron before a show, so I thought I’d try it. I’m fairly fastidious about having no wrinkles in shirts, so it would always be the shirt I was ironing. Later on I graduated to a steamer [laughs].
Stand up for what you believe in politically
It’s your responsibility, as a human being. It just happens that when musicians take a stand, other people get jealous of the reach we might have and how our words might affect more people than theirs. And that’s when they say: “Shut up and play.” But in our current situation in America, I feel the obligation to speak out. I want to help, for my granddaughter’s sake. I think if we stay silent, democracy will die in that silence. But we’re starting to make a lot of noise, thank God.
The best advice I never understood
My mum used to say: “What is to be, will be sure to come true.” I don’t know what it means, but I’ve always lived by that [laughs].
Carry The Light is out now via UMC
