We're mourning the loss of Peter Collins, our dear friend, confidant, and producer of many years. Peter was a major force in our creative lives, producing some of our most seminal work: 𝘙𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘚𝘸𝘢𝘮𝘱 𝘖𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢, 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶, and 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘞𝘦 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘐𝘯. He heard what Indigo Girls could sound like and helped us tell that story to millions of listeners across the world. Read on for our in-depth reflections and memories, as we celebrate the life and impact of Peter Collins.
Emily Saliers
I had a rickety cabin by a river in north Georgia, and it became one of Peter’s favorite places on Earth. He would take his dog Dave and his fly-fishing gear and bask in the quiet beauty. Peter was a proper English gent, but he made fast friends with my neighbor Hoss, a multi-generational Georgian who shared stories and history.
At some point in his adult life, Peter wanted to learn to dance—Latin dancing! He threw himself into it wholeheartedly—lessons with professional dancers, trips south of the border for dances, mirrors in the room where he practiced. Along with fly-fishing and flying model planes, dancing became an all-consuming passion, and I used to love to hear him talk about the experience and joy that dancing brought him.
In retirement, Peter lived a simple life full of simple pleasure. I have always been inspired by how much he lived in the moment.
He was an honest man—telling me if he liked a song of mine, or if it wasn’t as strong as others, or, no, he didn’t like the drums and the song needed strings. I teased him about his love of key changes, elaborate string sections, and big budgets. He liked telling me corny jokes.
I’ve taught a songwriting workshop in Nashville for many years now, and I always stayed at Peter’s house. My fondest memories are sitting on his back porch, looking out at the birds flitting about his myriad bird feeders, eating oatmeal, and catching up on life.
Peter was a wonderful producer. Having been a performing songwriter himself many, many years ago, he had a keen sense of melody and song structure. He brought many fine musicians into our orbit; I felt confident that he would steer our musical ship and, indeed, some of our most seminal work was produced by Peter: Rites of Passage, Swamp Ophelia, Become You, and All That We Let In.
I will miss Peter, and my heart aches that he has passed on from this Earth. We shared a deep and steady friendship that always picked up where it left off no matter how much time had passed between our visits. I am deeply grateful that he lives on in the music Amy and I made with him for so many years.
- Emily
Amy Ray:
Peter Collins was the producer who raised the musical bar for us and showed us how to be musically ambitious. He believed in us and believed we deserved to spend the time and resources to have big ideas, bring in unique musical guests, and discover new instruments. He pried open our creative world, and for me personally he laid down the gauntlet and challenged me to become a better writer and pay more attention to melody. I was often resistant, but he stuck with me and stayed as patient as he could. If he ever couldn’t tolerate one of my more strident or left of center musical ideas, he would let me pursue it, but quietly leave while I went down my path. He was the first person to suggest I try making my own solo records because at times I was trying to fit the square peg into the round hole. He wasn’t being negative, he was being pragmatic and I took it to heart, and of course it challenged me to start down the solo path that I am still on today. We all need people who will give us a big nudge when we need it. He was not a “yes” man and for that reason, my trust in him grew over time and he remained a compass for me. I always hung on his every positive and negative musical criticism and learned a lot of important lessons from him.
I went to see Peter at his home on May 14th when I was in Nashville for an Amy Ray Band show. A brood of Cicadas was covering his backyard and we watched birds coming and going from his numerous feeders. His sweet dog was by his side. I confided in Peter that I had had to let go of my Shepherd mix, Tender the night before. Peter was one of the first people I told because I knew he’d understand. He had become a dedicated dog lover over the years. Tender was one of the best dogs I ever had, absolutely perfect, but in his first two years, he was a major challenge. Peter and I joked about the time I brought Tender, a new pup at the time, with me to one of our recording sessions. Tender barked at the music constantly and would not stop trying to get me to play with him. Peter said he felt bad and had always wanted to apologize to me for promptly throwing Tender out of the studio that day. I told Peter it had actually always given me hope to remember how bad Tender was when he started out and how perfect he became. At that moment, I was dealing with another young shepherd mix I had rescued who was presenting a big challenge, but I knew had the same potential Tender had—it seems every dog is worth it. I related to having to learn how to act right in the studio too.
Peter’s love of remote-control airplanes, bird watching, and fishing reminded me of my Dad who Peter welcomed into the studio to sing on my song “Dead Man’s Hill” during the Swamp Ophelia recording sessions. I had never seen my Dad so nervous, but he could relate to Peter’s pragmatic nature and I think it put him at ease a bit. Peter had a way of forging ahead on our projects with dignity and musical prowess and he didn’t let much get in the way of our goals. In this spirit, he made sure my Dad got the vocal we needed and then we moved on. I have so many memories, so many important moments that Peter is central to. He brought so much into our sphere, things that are exponential in their impact. Our experiences with him took on a life of their own and helped us grow into who we are now.
I will say one more thing—the day after Peter passed, I was driving into Eastern Washington through the mountain pass and out of nowhere the song “Yoke” came on my phone. The app wasn’t even open, it just mysteriously started playing in the car. This is probably one of the top 5 songs for me as far as Peter’s production and his insight into a song of mine. I often think about a comment Peter made to me one night after seeing us play at TPAC with the Nashville Symphony. He told me he thought “Yoke” was such a compelling symphony arrangement and it was making him wish he had put a symphony on the original version for our record. I assured him that Luke Bulla’s and Carol Isaac’s instrumentation was the best it gets, but he said he felt he had short-changed the song. What Peter never knew, is that even all these years later, I hang on his every vote of confidence, and that night backstage made me feel good that he thought the song was so worthy. It resonates with me and stays on as a point of pride when I need some confidence in my songwriting. So, when “Yoke” came on in the car, I just smiled because I knew he was paying me a visit while I drove through the pass.
- Amy
Become You Recording Sessions, 2001
