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Peter Holsapple is a survivor.
The Winston-Salem native has survived touches with stardom, the disappointment of lost record deals and the rise and fall of being a college-radio cult hero who helped create the blueprint of smart 1980s rock.
But today, Holsapple doesn't think about that too much. He thinks about the Continental Drifters. It's a group of what Oxford American magazine calls "ex-could-have-beens" who are making some of the best music coming out today.
And Holsapple knows that it's happening because of his hard-won maturity in the record business.
"Our record had 'formerly of this band' and 'formerly of that band,' and we sat and peeled off all those stickers," says Holsapple from a friend's house in New Orleans. "We went to the distributor and said, "That is not important. What is important is what's playing back to you.'
"We held fast in this. We really believed this is a six-headed beast without a doubt. The perfect whole is greater than the parts."
There is a grown-up relaxation to the Continental Drifters, a relaxation hard to find in many other bands.
They made their second release beside a Louisiana bayou where a dog named Buddy padded around the studio. They practiced in everyone's living rooms, with cups of coffee near at hand, their instruments cradled in their laps, all of them sitting in a small circle.
When they've finished rehearsing, they go on tour for a few weeks, putting aside their day jobs. On Friday, they will play at the Cat's Cradle in Carrboro. On Saturday, they will play in Holsapple's hometown for its weekly Summer On Trade series.
Every time they take the stage, the Continental Drifters present an entourage of survivors. They are all musicians in their 40s, refugees from major-label bands from the 1980s who came together to play their music their own way.
And it has worked. The Continental Drifters recorded 14 songs in a small recording studio in Maurice, La., signed with a small label in New York City and released "Vermillion," a recording that made many best-of lists last year.
The Associated Press wrote: " 'Vermilion' is not only a great album, it is the kind of rock 'n' roll album barely made anymore, the product of a collective vision - a real band - rather than the mind of one singer-songwriter ... the best album of the year."
Some music critics call the Continental Drifters the new Fleetwood Mac or a new backwoods Jefferson Airplane. But Holsapple and his other band members don't think about labels. They think about their gigs every Tuesday at the New Orleans bar named Howlin' Wolf.
There, they make music. To them, that's what counts.
"The music in the Continental Drifters refuses to be over-whelmed by the music business," Holsapple says. "We're self-protective in our maturity, we love our sonmgs and we want them taken care of. We know what the important stuff is."
That knowledge has been hard-won. Holsapple, an alum of Winston-Salem's R.J. Reynolds High School, lived a hectic life as the front man for The dB's until 1988. He later became a sideman for R.E.M. and Hootie & The Blowfish when those groups were among the hottest in the world.
Now, Holsapple is 44. He is father to a 7-year-old girl named Miranda. He works as a music clerk at Border's Books & Music. He plays music for children at Border's every Friday and sings songs by folk musician Woody Guthrie.
He lives with his wife, Susan Cowsill, another member of the Continental Drifters, along the banks of Lake Ponchartrain, a large lake near New Orleans. They play music together. Sometimes, they write songs together. Such as "Drifters," a song inspired by a day inside a home office with a small journal, a guitar and a six-pack of Bud Light.
We're all drifters,
Singers and sisters, brothers and lovers and confidantes
We were born alone,
We're alone when we're gone,
So while we're here, we might as well just sing along.
"I'm a middle-aged gentleman, I've got a mortgage and a small child, and I'm still playing rock music," Holsapple says. "You know most of my peers don't do this anymore. They've got their mortgage and their 7-year-old children and a job. I do a litte bit of that, too.
"But I'm keeping my dream alive, and that makes you feel like a complete human being."
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