Living Legends is a series that spotlights icons in music still going strong today. This week, GRAMMY.com spoke with John Oates, one half of the acclaimed rock-and-soul duo Hall & Oates and a solo artist in his own right.
As paradoxical as it might sound, men are back in the spotlight.
In the wake of movements like #MeToo and #TimesUp, which were generally centered around the experiences of women, a spate of press coverage, like The New York Times' "The Crisis of Men and Boys," has illuminated the often silent suffering — and deaths of despair — of the other half of the U.S. population.
John Oates, a globally recognized musician who, decades ago, fell on hard times, sold off basically everything, and reinvented himself, is attuned to men's issues — even though, he posits, sometimes men themselves are the source of their afflictions.
"They tend to try to avoid opening up about things like that, because, maybe, it's not manly or macho," Oates, a five-time GRAMMY nominee, tells GRAMMY.com. "If I can lend any credence or open up anyone to pay more attention to the various issues that affect men, then I think that's a good thing."
That's what spurred the singer/songwriter — best known as one half of Hall and Oates — to team up with Movember, a men's health charity, for their annual November campaign where men grow mustaches to raise awareness and funds to counteract men's health issues. These include mental health, suicide prevention, and testicular and prostate cancer.
Yes, Oates' globally recognized stache (and, eventually, goatee) made him a prime candidate for their spokesperson. But far more meaningful is his firsthand understanding of what afflicts men from within — including the simultaneous traumas of a divorce and financial ruin due to association with "less-than-scrupulous money-minders."
And to this end, philanthropy is far from the only thing Oates is involved with right now. On Oct. 28, Oates will unveil "Pushin' a Rock," his new single — a fresh makeover of an older tune co-written with Nathan Chapman, called "Pushing a Rock Uphill."
The timing is no coincidence: "Movember happened, and I realized it was about struggle," Oates says. "It's using the Greek myth of Sisyphus pushing the rock uphill; that's the metaphor or inspiration behind it."
Ahead of the release of "Pushin' a Rock" — and the dawn of Movember — GRAMMY.com sat down with Oates about men's struggles, his current creative stirrings and the state of the duo that made him famous.
This interview has been edited for clarity.
With the plethora of social causes swirling around us right now, the well-being of men can get lost in the sauce. There are so many threats to and killers of men of all ages out there. Where does your thinking lie on this issue?
Well, I kind of agree with you. In a lot of ways, men are to blame for that situation, because they tend to not be very open, either physically or emotionally, on issues like that. They tend to try to avoid opening up about things like that, because, maybe, it's not manly or macho.
I think men have come a long way. If you look at the women's initiatives that go on — with breast cancer and all those sorts of things — they're well-received and well-supported in the media, and everywhere. Yet, men's-health initiatives — people are aware of them, but I don't think they're promoted the way [they should be].
Maybe women are just better promoters than men! [Laughs] And they're better communicators. Well, we already know that part.
Tell me where "Movember" comes into all of this — how your experiences fold into this initiative.
Well, aside from the obvious — that I'm the patron saint of facial hair — they reached out to me through social media and offered me the position of being their international spokesperson for this year. And I thought, Wow, this is great. You know, if I can lend any credence or open up anyone to pay more attention to the various issues that affect men, then I think that's a good thing.
I don't know how effective I'll be. But I do know that people can look at someone like me, who's been around for quite a while, who's had a lot of different experiences, a lot of success, and still know that I have things I need to overcome. Things that I struggle with. Things that I need to address on a daily basis, really.
It's not something [like], you have a bunch of hit records, you make a bunch of money, and now your life is perfect. Well, far be it from the truth. So, if I can be an example for that alone, maybe that's a good thing.
*Hall and Oates in 1973. Photo: GAB Archive/Redferns via Getty Images*
Can you talk about some of your struggles — physical, mental or otherwise — throughout half a century in the music industry?
If you're going to be in the music business — and the entertainment business in general — you have to develop a pretty thick skin. Because you're going to come up against a lot of adversity; [it could be] professional adversity, turning into personal adversity.
I've learned to harden myself in a lot of ways to deal with that. But at the same time, there have been things I couldn't deal with. Quite frankly, there were things that were out of my control that should have been in my control.
By that, I mean, when you allow outside forces to make critical decisions and have control of your finances or certain career choices — and you don't take care to either make yourself educated enough to understand it, or assert yourself to the point where you can control it — that's when things go wrong.
That certainly happened to me in the late '80s. And, unfortunately for me, some business things like that happened to me at the same time I was getting divorced. It was a combination of the emotional upheaval of being divorced and dealing with a lot of stuff that happened to me professionally — all at the same time.
It happened after the huge commercial success in the '80s. I ended up having to reassess where I was in my life and how to go forward in my life. Meaning, what was the next step?
It was kind of like being on this cliff way up high — you've been elevated to this place, and then making a conscious decision: "Hey, I'm going to step off this cliff, I'm going to jump to another, lower level here, and then I'm going to figure out how to get back." That was a strategy I had to develop in the late '80s and early '90s.
How do you remember getting through those twin traumas back then?
It had to do with therapy — with getting some strategies revealed to me in therapy, which I had never done before. I did it with my ex-wife before we got divorced, in kind of a couple's scenario, but it didn't help, because we were going to get divorced regardless.
But then, afterwards, I ended up going back to therapy, and delving [into] and dealing deeply with a lot of the things I hadn't addressed. That helped me, and then I made a conscious decision.
I was living in New York, I had all the trappings of being a big rock star. All the apartments and houses and airplanes and vintage car collections; all this stuff. And I just needed to change my life. I shaved my mustache; I sold everything I had. I moved to my little condo in Aspen, which is the only thing I didn't sell.
I left New York, and left a lot of the toxic environment I was involved with — and a lot of toxic people I was involved with. I left them all behind. That wasn't easy.
What was the nature of this toxicity? Was it a drug-fueled environment?
No, actually; it wasn't the drugs. I never had a drug or alcohol problem.
It was all about business. It was all about being surrounded by dishonesty and a lack of integrity that I didn't understand, because I was too focused on making records and touring. And not paying attention to the other things, which aren't as shiny and sexy, but unfortunately, very critical to having a good career.
I learned a lot during that period of time. I learned never to let that happen again, which is probably the best lesson to learn.
In the press release, you mention "a traumatizing experience that significantly impacted the way you live your life." Is that what you're referring to?
Yeah, that's exactly what I'm referring to. I got to the point where I was told that a lot of money had been… diverted. Let's put it that way. Away from me, into other things, or into the ether somewhere.
What I was left with was a ton of hard assets, luckily for me. Like I said earlier — I'll make a joke. I didn't have a lot of money, but I had a lot of s—. So, I sold all the s— and had a lot of money again.
Then, I decided, OK, I don't know if I'll make another dime. But I'm going to restructure my life so it doesn't matter whether I make another dime again. And I moved to Colorado, lived in the mountains, rode a bicycle for two years — I had no car — and made new friends.
I spent most of the '90s reinventing myself. Remarrying, having a kid, building a house — doing all the things I couldn't do when I was on the road for over 20 years.
*John Oates today. Photo: Jason Lee Denton*
Let's talk about your upcoming single, "Pushin' a Rock." How does that fold into these themes we're talking about?
Well, there was an interesting evolution of that song. Back around 2014, I was making a collaborative album called Good Road to Follow. The idea of the album was: I reached out to a whole bunch of people I really liked and respected. People like Vince Gill, Ryan Tedder — all sorts of people.
I said, "Hey, let's just make a single. I want to enter your world and make a record with you, however you like to make records." I just thought it would be a cool project.
So, I reached out to a guy named Nathan Chapman, who is a multiple GRAMMY winner responsible for all of Taylor Swift's early success. I met him when he was just a young musician in Nashville, when he was doing demos for, basically, a 13-year-old Taylor Swift.
At the time, I had read a story where Taylor had moved on. She had new producers she was going to work with, and she was no longer going to work with Nathan. I just had a gut instinct to call him. I called him and asked how he was doing, and he said he wasn't sure, because the creative rug had been pulled out from under him, in a sense.
I said, "Man, I'm kind of in the same place — my own version of that. Why don't we try to write a song?" He said, "I would love that."
So, I went over to his house and wrote a song, and it ended up being called "Pushing a Rock Uphill," and I recorded it on that album. It came out great — I thought the lyrics were really good, [but] my production was not that great. But nevertheless, it was OK.
Years have gone by now. During COVID, I was thinking about [how] there have been a lot of struggles in my life, again, in a different way. And I revisited the song, and I took the lyrics and got rid of the music. I said, "I'm going to write a new track. I'm going to do a new musical bed for this, and I'm going to rephrase and restructure the lyrics to fit."
That's what happened, and to differentiate it, I called it "Pushin' a Rock." I called up Nathan and said, "Hey, man. I rewrote the song. I hope you don't mind." I played it for him, and he said, "John, this is how it should have sounded from the beginning." [Laughs]
He loved it, and I liked it. Then, Movember happened, and I realized it was about struggle. It's using the Greek myth of Sisyphus pushing the rock uphill; that's the metaphor or inspiration behind it.
The whole idea is that you have to keep pushing in your life. You have to keep trying and trying and never give up. But at the same time, when you run up against something overwhelming and the rock rolls back down, you've got to step out of the way and do it again, because you can't quit. That's what the song's all about.
When you look back on your long career, what are you most proud of regarding decisions you made — personal or creative? And what would you tell yourself early on, if you could?
Well, here again, I'd go back and tell myself to look out for less-than-scrupulous money-minders. That would be the first thing. I would also tell myself to get a really good lawyer.
And then, I would say the thing I'm most proud of is: I made a move to Nashville in the late '90s, early 2000s. The move, and the musicians and people I surrounded myself with, allowed me to rediscover the musician that I was before I met Daryl Hall. Because I was a blues, folk, rootsy musician, and I tapped back into my earliest influences.
The Nashville music community supported me in that and helped me to rediscover myself. I really couldn't put a value on something like that.
*Hall and Oates performing in 2019. Photo: Peter Van Breukelen/Redferns/Getty Images*
How are things with Daryl today?
I guess he's OK. He's doing his thing. He did a tour with Todd Rundgren, and we still have a couple of Hall and Oates shows to play. We don't really hang out or socialize at all, but our professional relationship is still working.
Once Movember has come and gone, how can we as a society continue to address issues affecting men? What's the path forward?
You know what it is? It's building awareness little by little. Here again — keep pushing that rock uphill. You can't give up. You have to try something; you have to create awareness, and hopefully sustain it, in a way, until next time.
I think the women's movement has been very successful in getting their agendas and their initiatives across in a big, big way. If you look at breast cancer, you've got 300-pound football players wearing pink shoes. They're getting their message across, and sustaining their message.
Men don't really do that. But maybe this is a beginning for that.
What else is creatively percolating for you? What are you thinking about next, regarding your own output?
I'm sliding away from the Americana, roots-music world, although I'll never leave it. But I'm tapped a little more into my pop side.
I'm feeling like the things I'm doing — and when you hear the song, you'll understand what I'm talking about — I feel like I'm tapping into a '70s soul, R&B, rock kind of thing. For some reason, it just feels good to me.
Living Legends: Kenny Loggins On Self-Acceptance, The Art Of Collaboration & New Memoir Still Alright