Chicago Farmer & The Fieldnotes

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.”

“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.”

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.”

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.”