Today we’d like to introduce you to Skye Peterson.
Alright, so thank you so much for sharing your story and insight with our readers. To kick things off, can you tell us a bit about how you got started?
I had a white binder with the words “My Music!” written on the cover in black sharpie. Pages upon pages of lyrics made their way into that binder, lyrics about being a middle schooler, lyrics about God and His love for me, lyrics about pain and about my friend Jody who was sick with AIDS, lyrics that questioned and answered and doubted and hoped. I grew up on Patty Griffin, Allison Krauss, Shawn Colvin, Nanci Griffith, all of whom acted as teachers, writing “it’s a beautiful thing to be honest in your music” on their imaginary blackboards.
My dad was a singer-songwriter who often gave me spaces to share my songs with people. He was also the one who sat by my side at the piano, showing me scales and teaching me the number system. I’d record videos of picking patterns he’d play on his guitar to learn alone, that way I could get frustrated at myself and not him when I couldn’t play it correctly. Eventually, I felt passionate enough about my songs to launch a Kickstarter (a fundraising platform) and record an EP, which ignited my legitimate love for making music and sharing it. I was fifteen at the time and made music through high-school before Covid hit my senior year.
I spent a year in the UK studying theology. The school was in the foothills of England, surrounded by sheep fields and chestnut trees and cobblestone streets older than America, looking like a Jane Austen novel and giving me a glance into the timelessness of God. I moved to Kentucky from there (a little less cool) to continue my study of theology before dropping out to do music. I moved to Nashville, met a cute guy named Tom who I’m now married to, started working for Getty Music (a group of hymn-writers), recorded my first full album (Where The Winter Was), toured all over the country in living rooms and
churches, recorded another album (All The Difference), toured all over the country in living rooms and churches, and then started a band called Fielder.
I smile as I write this. It’s funny to sum up twenty-two years into three paragraphs. As exhilarating as it sounds, those years were littered with small triumphs and big tears, confusion as well as a sense of calling; it was colored like a sunset, dense with deep blues and burning bright oranges, impossible to narrow down to a singular shade. The complexion of my life will surely change, but I doubt the subjects of my songs will, and I’m confident God will be steadfast.
We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
There have been road blocks and detours, but sometimes the long way is more beautiful (wow, I sound like I’m 70). I think the hardest part has been wrestling with the christian music industry’s standard of what worship music really is. The songs I write are about God-related things, knowing full well that God is relevant to my marriage, my friendships, my doubts, my joy, my experiences, etc. While many people think the posture of worship is hands-in-the-air, I find most of my worship takes the posture of fists-in-the-air, asking God who are you really? why does it matter?
Unlike the story of so many, the love of God didn’t hit me like a freight train. It was not out-of-the-blue, it was not all-of-a-sudden, it was not all-at-once. No preacher dropped a bombshell, no experience nocked my socks off, no heavenly voice took me unawares. In truth, the love of God has moved me “as gradually as the tide lifts a grounded ship,” in the words of C.S. Lewis. All I know is that I love him now, I am floating on the beautiful ocean of His peace, and I’m so thankful for it.
All this to say, making Christian music that expresses faith in a different way than CCM, I’ve struggled to know how to be honest in a healthy way, to express my love for God while also not downplaying the difficulty, the doubt, the dissonance that comes with loving an invisible God.
Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
I write songs and share them! Touring is a large part of what I do. I get invited to places all over the world (a 1000-year-old church in Norway, a potato farm in Louisiana, a soccer tournament in Murfreesboro, a living room in Canada, a coffeeshop in Nebraska, etc.) and share my songs and stories with people. It’s intimate and sweet, breaking the fourth wall and skipping the fog machines, the fancy lights, the fashion show that most concerts are. I love it.
As for what sets me apart from others, I don’t think I’m the one to say. My favorite songwriter Anais Mitchell has a line that says, “I wanna be someone, I wanna be one in a million, I wanna be one of a kind, I wanna be once in a lifetime.” But the truth is I think there are a lot of small artists out there, doing the hard work of steady devotion to their craft. It’s fun to play a small part in a big story.
What has been the most important lesson you’ve learned along your journey?
I think most of the lessons I learned are ones I’m still learning, but I’ll say this: for a long time I thought God was either unkind or irrelevant, but for the last four years God has been proving me wrong. I still really wrestle with that … how could you not? But every time I wake up next to my husband or see a new flower bloom in my front yard or eat a good meal with my friends, sense the deeper truth that not only is He kind, I think he has everything to do with everything.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.skyepeterson.com
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@skyepeterson7936
