My rockstar sweet romantic comedy, Undone, releases in just two short days! Undone, the third installment in my Unruly Rockstar series, is a forced-proximity, closed-door, kissing-only story with small-town vibes.
Today, we meet Seph Cook: guitar player, reluctant rockstar, jack-of-all-trades, chicken wrangler. After his bandmate makes a mess at a Nashville bed-and-breakfast, Seph hangs around to fix the damage. Cue the blue-skinned, velociraptor chickens and the knee buckling kisses. Not necessarily in that order.
The Real Seph Cook: Away from the Spotlight
by NORA WILLIAMS
We caught up with A-List guitarist Seph Cook at a truck stop diner outside Indianapolis—his choice, not ours. While his bandmates were asleep, Cook was already up at 7 AM, ordering black coffee, looking more like a construction foreman than a Grammy-winning rock star.
Indie Music Journal: Most guitarists in multi-platinum bands don’t hang out at truck stops.
Seph Cook: [grins] This is where real people eat breakfast. Plus, the coffee here reminds me of the gas station back home in Cold Spring.
This contrast seems to define Cook—a guy who can shred guitar solos for 50,000 screaming fans one night, and then wake up the next morning craving the simple life he left behind in small-town Indiana.
IMJ: You’ve been touring since high school. What’s life like behind the glamour?
SC: It’s mostly waiting. Waiting for sound checks. Waiting for the show to start. Waiting to get to the next city. You lose track of time. Reality, even. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I’m still human.
The honesty is refreshing. While frontman Ted Law courts controversy and bassist Roj Joshi posts cryptic social media rants, Cook seems genuinely uncomfortable with the mythology of rock stardom.
SC: I grew up working construction with my mom’s boyfriend. Fourteen years old, hanging drywall to keep the heat on. When you’ve had to choose between groceries and electricity, you don’t take anything for granted. Not even this.
He gestures around the diner, where truckers and early-shift workers fuel up on eggs and hash browns, completely oblivious to the fact that a Grammy winner is sitting in booth seven.
IMJ: Do you ever miss the anonymity?
SC: Every day. Last month between shows, I found a hardware store, bought some tools and helped the stagehands fix a broken riser. For two hours, I was just a normal guy with a drill. It was nice.
Wistfulness tinges his voice when he talks about construction work. A longing for tangible results in a business built on intangibles?
IMJ: A-List’s sound has evolved recently. Your thoughts on the band’s current direction?
SC: Music reflects where you are in life. Some of us are in different places now than when we started.
It’s a diplomatic non-answer, but the subtext is clear on his face. The band that once wrote hopeful anthems now traffics in darker themes, and Cook—the guy still eating at truck stops and helping strangers fix broken equipment—is feeling the disconnect.
As we wrap up, Cook leaves a generous tip and shakes hands with the waitress, asking about her son’s Little League season. Outside, a black SUV waits to whisk him back to the manufactured reality of tour life.
For now, he’s still Seph Cook, small-town kid made good. The question is: how long can he stay that way?
Photo by Erik Mclean: https://www.pexels.com/photo/cars-refueling-on-gas-station-5763199/