The full Story
Neighborhood Valley Beginnings (Early 1970s)
It started in the Neighborhood Valley, a quiet, working-class hollow tucked near the Wyna River, where porch radios buzzed with gospel and blues, and kids learned rhythm before they could read. It was here, in the warmth and grit of this valley, that a sound began to take shape—a sound born of woodsmoke, stubborn hearts, and Sunday music.
John Lerch, born in 1964, grew up in a two-story home with peeling paint and a backyard full of rusted bike parts. Known as Stubborn John even as a child, his fierce will came straight from his mother, Anna Lerch, who raised him on boiled potatoes, loud opinions, and late-night talk radio. He found music early, latching onto an old harmonica at eleven, then trading every odd job he could find for a worn but beautiful cherry red Gibson ES-335 at fourteen. He called it „her.“
Around that time, John met Joshua Peabody, the quiet, deeply spiritual son of a Methodist preacher. Joshua lived in a house thick with church music and unspoken sorrow. His escape was a dusty Hammond B3 organ hidden in the church basement, where he’d sit for hours pulling melodies from the depths of his soul. He could swing gospel, crawl through blues, or float into soul jazz—all without breaking a sweat.
Then came Pete Merryweather, the rhythm. A grinning kid who played drums with his whole body, Pete’s family lived three houses down and three worlds apart. His father was a disabled veteran who taught him discipline, and Pete brought it to the beat. His first kit was a mishmash of milk crates, hubcaps, and borrowed snares, but what he lacked in gear, he made up for in feel.
The three began jamming in basements, garages, and eventually barns. By 1977, they’d named themselves Swamp Hollow Union and were gigging local BBQ joints, church halls, and the odd wedding.
Becoming the Peabody Merryweather Blues Band (1979)
One muggy summer night in 1979, after a scorched-earth set at The Briar Patch Social Club, an old bluesman in the crowd shouted, “That’s Peabody’s gospel, Merryweather’s thunder—and that stubborn guitar kid who won’t quit!”
The name stuck.
From that day forward, they were the Peabody Merryweather Blues Band featuring Stubborn John the Lark. Their sound was now unmistakable: gospel-drenched organ, tight swamp-groove drums, and a guitar tone that bled both joy and ache. And always, the Wyna Valley was in the room with them—haunting every riff, humming beneath every beat.
The Club Years and the Arrival of the Horns (1980–1985)
By 1980, they had grown beyond the valley. A residency at The Blue Ember in Lafayette gave them their first real exposure. Joshua refused to use the club’s house organ, insisting on hauling his battered Hammond and Leslie speaker up two flights of stairs. Pete upgraded to a pro kit. John just kept playing that cherry red ES-335 until the neck warped from sweat.
In 1983, at a blues festival in Mobile, they met a horn section called the Brass Habit. It included:
- Clarence „Big Brass“ Bellamy, a rotund trumpet virtuoso with the lungs of a hurricane.
- Lucille „Sweets“ Jenkins, a sultry alto sax player who could silence a crowd with a single note.
- Reverend Curtis Booker, a baritone sax preacher who once shouted scripture between solos.
They jammed in a parking lot. It clicked. The band’s sound expanded into something majestic—still rooted in blues, but now bursting with gospel fire and brass swagger. The Brass Habit became permanent.
Their stage shows grew more theatrical: colored lights, twin-keyboard rigs, trumpet spotlights, and extended solos. Clubs from New Orleans to New York took notice.
First Record Deal and Muscle Shoals Fire (1986–1988)
They signed with Copperhead Records, a small Southern label, and cut their first studio album at Muscle Shoals Sound Studio. The record, „Valley Bone Blues“, became a regional hit. It featured:
- “Preacher’s Son Shuffle” – Joshua’s confessional, full of fire and restraint.
- “Clockwork Heart” – Pete’s rhythmic showcase.
- “Cherry Red Mercy” -John’s solo track, praised by Guitar Digest as „pure electricity marinated in molasses.“
The tour that followed was wild, soulful, and half-funded by T-shirt sales. But they were building a legend. That year, Bruce Robert Jackson – former Monitor Engineer for Elvis and affiliated with the E Street Band –
John declined.
“I’d rather sweat in the valley than and sell some CAD software.”
That decision became part of his mystique. He would always be loyal—to the band, to the valley, and to the red guitar that never left his side.
Late Period, Tragedy, and Legacy (1989–2021)
The band carried on through the ’90s and early 2000s. They never reached national stardom, but they had something rarer: respect. Reverence. They played every major blues festival in the South and even recorded a live album in a converted barn in Wyna Valley: “Smoke in the Rafters.”
Joshua grew quieter over time, his playing more contemplative. Pete briefly left the band in 1997 to care for his father but returned in 2000. The horn section came and went, but Clarence Bellamy stayed until the end.
In 2021, during a small club tour after lockdown lifted, Joshua Peabody contracted COVID-19. Despite early treatment, complications set in quickly. He passed away on November 18, 2021.
The valley grieved.
John played alone at Joshua’s funeral, a slow, cracked version of “Midnight Mercy”. No solos. Just silence between chords. Pete didn’t touch his drums for six months.
Epilogue: Stubborn as the River
Today, John still lives in the Wyna Valley. He teaches guitar, plays occasional sets, and still owns that cherry red ES-335—the same one he bought as a teenager. Pete runs a drum shop in nearby Larchwood, and the old tour van sits rusting in a shed behind the church where Joshua used to play.
The music lives on.
In the river. In the valley. In every bend of a slow blues solo that refuses to fade.
