Chicago Farmer
BIO
When taking on the moniker Chicago Farmer, singer-songwriter Cody Diekhoff aimed to not only showcase the dichotomy of his life and travels — growing up in the tiny Illinois farm community of Delavan, and calling “The Windy City” home for several years — he also wanted to honor his past through his uplifting, introspective melodies.
“My hometown kind of goes with me wherever I go,” Diekhoff says. “All the things I learned from my grandparents, I take that with me wherever I go. They’re always in my heart and in my mind.”
Which is why Diekhoff’s latest offering, Homeaid, puts a spotlight on the old soul nature and deep ethos of compassion and camaraderie that resides at the core of his being. A blend of Americana, indie-folk and roots-rock, the album swirls effortlessly into the ether of a modern world facing uncertain times.
“Home is where the art is/Home is where there’s song,” Diekhoff erupts on the title track. “It hits you the hardest/When you’re away from home too long.”
Produced by Chad Staehly (who worked with legendary troubadour Todd Snider on Cash Cabin Sessions, Vol. 3), Diekhoff is backed on Homeaid by his touring band for the first time, The Fieldnotes, featuring Charlie Harris (bass), Cody Jensen (keys/mandolin), Frank Kurtz (drums), and Jaik Willis (guitar).
“If anything, I want my music to be genuine and authentic,” Diekhoff says. “My grandfather was a storyteller. He was a veteran, a family farmer, and he just collected stories. Hearing him tell all these stories definitely transferred over into my storytelling that’s in my music.”
Diekhoff also inherited his late grandfather’s work ethic, this tireless passion and purpose to make something of yourself, to wake up each day and give the universe everything you have within you — all in an effort to push further and farther into your wildest of dreams, all in pursuit of connecting with others.
“It’s about the simple, little things, you know? The tinkering around. We’d go to the American Legion. He’d have a coffee and I would have a Coke,” Diekhoff recalls of his grandfather. “And we’d interact with other farmers. Those interactions are definitely a community thing that still happens in small towns. It might get lost over the years, but it’s still there.”
Meandering through Homeaid, there are odes to teenage transgressions in the name of irresponsible enlightenment (“Tina Hart’s Mustang”), odes to the splendor and tragedy of growing older (“Sorry You’re Sick”), odes to nothing and everything (“Mattress”) — the cultivation of which being Diekhoff and his curious life, one remaining in perpetual motion, onstage and on the road.
“People come to watch it run when the sun went down/To raise a glass as it passed and hoist up the crown,” Diekhoff howls into the heavens. “Yeah, Tina Hart’s Mustang was the fastest car around.”
“If I ever need a ‘story song,’ all I have to do is go to my hometown and just start driving around,” Diekhoff notes. “And I was there, and started thinking about the cars I owned in high school, and other people’s cars. I remember this girl, Tina Hart, who had this Mustang — there’s my ‘story song.”
There’s even a poignant dedication to his grandmother (“The Twenty Dollar Bill”), who, at age 97, still lives in Delavan, the family farmhouse still standing, the property a sacred place of respite Diekhoff returns to from time-to-time.
“Oh, now grandma, they don’t make them like you anymore/Except for them young soldiers we send off to war,” Diekhoff’s voice rings out. “Seems you’re always righting the wrongs of somebody else/Seems you’re always fighting for someone other than yourself.”
When it comes to the lyrical essence of Chicago Farmer, the heart of the matter is reflecting on your respective path, and with selfless enthusiasm for what comes next, which is why his live shows run the gamut of humanity.
“It’s so cool to be at the merch table after a show, where there’s an 18-year-old person who’ll bring their parents or an older parent bringing their kids,” Diekhoff says. “And I think the songs come through that. Parents are turning their kids onto my music, and at the same time, kids are turning their parents onto my music — it doesn’t get much better than that.”
For Diekhoff, the result of all these vast experiences is this growing catalog of songs used as conduits to connect one another through the hardscrabble truths of what it means to wander this earth in search of truth and beauty.
“Everything comes back to driving,” Diekhoff says. “All I do is drive around.”
Diekhoff points to his biggest influence as a songwriter — the late, great John Pine — as a fundamental template for his craft, more so a sense of solidarity of where, why, and how melodies come together.
“You hear stories about how [John] used to write a lot of songs while delivering the mail — it doesn’t get more Americana or Midwest or cool than that,” Diekhoff chuckles. “I used to deliver flowers. I’ve delivered pizzas. I’ve delivered phone books. And so, I know what it’s like being behind the wheel and gathering experiences while you’re letting your imagination fly.”
With Homeaid, it’s this true sense of self that’s felt when it comes to those cherished faces and vivid moments from your own past. Images, sounds, and feelings conjured with ease, usually while cruising down some backcountry road, windows rolled down, the sunshine of another bountiful day slowly falling below the horizon, the unknown night quickly emerging — this crossroads of sheer gratitude and endless inspiration.
“This is who I am now,” Diekhoff says of Chicago Farmer. “I represent both of these places, and I take a lot of pride in ownership of the name now.”
