{"id":60412,"date":"2026-03-19T01:45:43","date_gmt":"2026-03-19T01:45:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/musicianvoice.com\/index.php\/2026\/03\/19\/country-star-fishes-dives-cooks-for-cast\/"},"modified":"2026-03-19T01:45:43","modified_gmt":"2026-03-19T01:45:43","slug":"country-star-fishes-dives-cooks-for-cast","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/musicianvoice.com\/index.php\/2026\/03\/19\/country-star-fishes-dives-cooks-for-cast\/","title":{"rendered":"Country Star Fishes, Dives, Cooks for Cast"},"content":{"rendered":"


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\n\tThe boat is small and gray, cutting a lonely wake through the turquoise water off Fiji\u2019s Mana Island. At the helm is a man who looks more like a local fisherman who hasn\u2019t seen a razor or a hotel shower in a week than the multi-platinum country-music stadium act that he is: Zac Brown<\/a>.<\/p>\n

\n\tTattooed on his right shoulder: Bob Marley. On his left, improbably: Teddy Roosevelt. He\u2019s drawn to Roosevelt\u2019s idea of the man in the arena, the one who acts while others watch. \u201cThere are people who are going to hate on whatever you do,\u201d Brown tells me later. On the floor behind him are two four-foot dogtooth tuna, silver bellies catching the sun above neat slits, speared by his hand about an hour ago.<\/p>\n

\n\tTo get those fish, Brown, gripping a custom-built Alemanni speargun, plunged 80 feet into some of the sharkiest waters on earth. He had 90 seconds to take aim, fire, and ascend with the bleeding carcass, one at a time, back up through the water column before a shark could swipe it. It has happened to him before. \u201cSharks are a good thing,\u201d he\u2019ll say later, in the flat manner you might order a coffee. \u201cThey\u2019re a sign of a lot of life.\u201d He\u2019s spent more than decade training his mind and body to function in darkness on a\u00a0single breath. It requires, above all else, learning not to panic.<\/p>\n

\n\tBrown steps off the boat onto the hot sand holding the fish by its jaw with both hands \u2014 it runs the full length of his torso, its crescent tail bobbing at his waist \u2014and flashes the kind of wide, unhinged grin of a man who has just done something most people wouldn\u2019t attempt on a dare.<\/p>\n

Then five people come running down the sandbank. A camera operator adjusts his strap. Two tripod stands are planted in the sand.<\/p>\n

And you remember: This is the set of Survivor<\/a><\/em>.<\/p>\n

It started, as so many things do, at a barbecue at Dave Grohl\u2019s house in Hawaii. Jeff Probst was there. \u201cA girl said to me, \u2018Oh, Zac Brown\u2019s coming \u2014 he\u2019s a Survivor<\/em> fan,’\u201d Probst recalls. \u201cWe started talking for like three hours about life and Survivor<\/em>, and then on his way out, Zac turned to me and said, \u2018Hey, I would love to play this game, but I\u2019ll never have a month that I can leave with my schedule and my family. But if you ever do a shortened version, or you need me for a day or two, let me know.’\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

\n\tProbst filed it away. When he texted Brown about the concept for the show\u2019s landmark 50th season<\/a>, called \u201cIn the Hands of the Fans\u201d \u2014 which is drawing its highest ratings since 2021 \u2014 Brown responded immediately. \u201cI\u2019m in. And here\u2019s what I\u2019ll do. I\u2019ll come out there and I will catch you fish and I\u2019ll cook it up. I\u2019ll bring everything I need. Fillet knives, a Demerbox, get some music going.\u201d Probst pauses. \u201cAnd then he said, \u2018Do you want me to bring my guitar?\u2019 I said, \u2018Zac, if you want to play music, that is literally the cherry on top of the greatest reward of all time.’\u201d<\/p>\n

I MEET THE LEADER OF THE ZAC BROWN BAND<\/a> AROUND 9 on the morning of the reward challenge, nine days into shooting the season, in a cramped production office in the jungle, mere feet from the beach set. He is completely alone \u2014 no handlers, no label rep, no publicist, no one coming over to dab concealer or offer him water. He is 46 years old, newly svelte, and in a black t-shirt, fitted camo shorts, and flip-flops. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning.<\/p>\n

The 11th of 12 children, Brown grew up in northern Georgia, at the foot of the Appalachian mountains. His early jobs were always as a line cook. When he became famous with the Zac Brown Band for hits like \u201cChicken Fried,\u201d \u201cFree,\u201d and \u201cHomegrown,\u201d he did his best to minimize it. In fact, Brown has spent years building one of the most deliberately private careers in American music. \u201cI\u2019ve been almost PTSD about being a celebrity,\u201d he says, with something that might be irony and might not, given that he is standing on the set of the most-watched reality competition in television history.<\/p>\n

\n\tAt the time of our interview, Brown has been deep in preparation for his band\u2019s residency at the Sphere<\/a> in Las Vegas. \u201cI want to make something that elevates us into the legacy act,\u201d he says. \u201cWe want to be a Grateful Dead or Rolling Stones. We want to be in that air.\u201d He self-funded the entire run. \u201cI love that we\u2019re kind of the underdogs.\u201d<\/p>\n

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\t\tRelated Content<\/p>\n<\/h2>\n<\/section>\n

\n\tIn the world of Survivor<\/em>, the Sanctuary is an open shack decorated like a fantasy beach bungalow. It\u2019s a set on Mana where winning tribes go to eat, relax, and drink \u2014 maybe find a clue. \u201cUsually they\u2019re quick, you\u2019re in and out,\u201d says Benjamin \u201cCoach\u201d Wade, 54, who has played four seasons including this one. \u201cThis was something else.\u201d<\/p>\n

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\t\tEditor\u2019s picks<\/p>\n<\/h2>\n<\/section>\n

\n\tWade is the first castaway to greet Brown as his inflatable boat arrives with the day\u2019s catch. \u201cI\u2019ve seen all of you before,\u201d Zac says, taking in the assembled tribe \u2014 a maestro, an actuary, a corporate lawyer, an artist, a marketer, a firefighter, and a cattle rancher \u2014 and preparing to clean the fish. \u201cI feel like I know a lot of you. I\u2019m tripping out as much as y\u2019all are right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\t\u201cI\u2019m sorry that we all smell real bad,\u201d says Colby Donaldson, a Season 2 alumni and one of the show\u2019s first stars.<\/p>\n

\n\tScott Duncan, Survivor<\/em>\u2018s director of photography since Season 1, was one of four people on the boat with Brown that morning. The assignment, as it had been explained to him, was simple: \u201cZac\u2019s going to go get lunch.\u201d Duncan laughs. \u201cWhere the big stuff is, you\u2019re going deep. Light doesn\u2019t travel the same way down there. It\u2019s like outer space,\u201d he says. \u201cHe just disappears.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tBrown plunges his knife in thin strokes down the spine of the tuna and gets to work. Once he\u2019s done filleting, he whips up a tropical salsa with jalape\u00f1o, red onion, and cilantro, and grills the fish. (He accommodates the tribe\u2019s vegan with wood-fired tofu and veggie skewers.) On other game shows, a celebrity guest is the reward. Here, Brown is basically their butler. He just can\u2019t help himself.<\/p>\n

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\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>

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\t\t\t\t\tZac Brown went free-diving on the set of \u2018Survivor\u2019 to spear tuna and make the cast lunch.<\/span><\/p>\n

\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tScott Duncan\/CBS<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n

\n\t\u201cHe didn\u2019t let us do anything,\u201d Probst recalls. \u201cHe said over and over, \u2018Whatever you need. I\u2019m here to grind.\u2019 At one point he said, \u2018Do you know if there will be access to fresh mangos?\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tWhile cooking, Brown runs three conversations simultaneously: \u201cI\u2019ve got a pretty healthy dose of ADD, so I can actually listen better when I\u2019m doing something.\u201d He talks about his love of Jimmy Buffett, about playing Fenway Park<\/a>, about the time he met Beyonc\u00e9 and Jay-Z at the Grammys after having downed an In-N-Out Burger in the van outside. \u201cI shake their hand with an onion hand. I was just ashamed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tBrown spies Joe Hunter, a Sacramento fire captain\u00a0who made it to the end of Season 48, and says, \u201cI think you should have won,\u201d as if he traveled all the way to Fiji just to deliver this verdict.<\/p>\n

\n\t\u201cI saw his hands shaking,\u201d Wade\u00a0tells me later. \u201cThat\u2019s when I knew he wasn\u2019t here to be a star. He was here to be one of us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tThe late-afternoon light has changed its angle but not its intensity when production moves down to the beach and the castaways settle into the cool sand. Brown looks out at them and picks up his guitar, a sleek black carbon-fiber instrument built to resist humidity, and starts singing a cover of Jason Isbell\u2019s \u201cCover Me Up.\u201d<\/a> When talking about writing his own music, he describes it less like entertainment and more like surgery. \u201cI want something where the message and the melody and the harmony all come together to where it just pierces you,\u201d he says. \u201cI know if I get choked up writing it, it\u2019s gonna do that for other people.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\t\u201cThe Man Who Loves You the Most,\u201d which Brown performs later, has that effect on Hunter. \u201cThey\u2019re going to give me so much shit at the station,\u201d he whispers to Donaldson next to him, wiping his eyes. <\/p>\n

\n\tLater that night, before Tribal Council, Brown sits across from me and says something that takes a moment to land \u2014 \u201cI\u2019ve never told my story. I\u2019ve never told anyone.\u201d Then he begins recounting his early years in a steady and low voice. He talks about growing up in Georgia in a house that, he says, wasn\u2019t a safe place, and how he had to be the guardian of the person who was supposed to be protecting him. <\/p>\n

\n\tAccording to Brown, his mother was bipolar and manic-depressive, undiagnosed until she was 63. One of the symptoms was compulsive lying. \u201cShe was functional enough to where she could be normal to people for a few months,\u201d he says, \u201cand then people would realize that that whole reality wasn\u2019t real.\u201d She married a man who was abusive. There were battered women\u2019s shelters and a horse farm they\u2019d escape to when things got bad. <\/p>\n

\n\t\u201cThere was not a safe place,\u201d he says. \u201cI saw my dad every other weekend, so I knew kind of how it should be. I knew that it was wrong. I knew it was weird. But I had to protect my mom.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tAt 14, he moved in with his father, but the situation was strained. His stepmother let him stay for a year and a half, and then they moved away to Atlanta. At 16, he had no adult supervision \u2014 just a bed above a friend\u2019s garage, his father covering the rent, and a drive to Chattanooga every weekend to play with a band. \u201cI had to grow up so fast that I was already an adult in a lot of ways,\u201d Brown says. \u201cThose were all the things that were supposed to happen, however fucked up they may be.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tIt wasn\u2019t until he took an abnormal-psychology class in college that he encountered clinical language for what his mom had been living with. \u201cThat was when all of the anger turned into compassion,\u201d he says. \u201cBecause it wasn\u2019t her choice to be that way.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brown eventually helped his mother get diagnosed after he says she had forged his signature on a life insurance policy. \u201cI was like, \u2018You are going to get help,\u2019\u201d he recalls, before praising the change he witnessed. \u201cAfter 60 days, she was normal. I call and check on her, they\u2019re like, \u2018Your mom\u2019s amazing \u2014 she\u2019s helping everybody with their art.’\u201d<\/p>\n

His roller-coaster upbringing left Brown with a nervous system finely tuned to other people\u2019s pain. \u201cUsually empathy comes from trauma,\u201d he says. \u201cIf I know you, I can tell if there\u2019s something wrong \u2014 you don\u2019t have to say anything. I can sense it. I not only notice it, but I actually feel it.\u201d He pauses, aware of how this sounds. \u201cI know this is weird, but I can see with my hands. If I close my eyes, I can actually see what I\u2019m touching. If I put my hands on someone, I could feel exactly where the knots are, where the pain or the suffering is.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tThe dark side of that gift is that he carried it everywhere. \u201cDating people, being in a partnership with somebody \u2014 if that person is constantly suffering from something, then I would suffer,\u201d he says. Brown worked for years to find the ability to hold space for someone else\u2019s pain without it flooding through him. He eventually got there. \u201cI carried a bowling ball inside my chest, and five hours later it was gone,\u201d he says. \u201cAnd it\u2019s been gone since.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tInspired, Brown went on to build Camp Southern Ground<\/a> when his country-music career afforded him the means. The singer founded the facility, outside Atlanta, with at-risk youth and veterans in mind, in part because of what happened to himself at camp, and in part because of what he sees now in the kids who pass through.<\/p>\n

\n\t\u201cThere\u2019s a poverty of spirit with a lot of American kids,\u201d he says. \u201cWhen you don\u2019t know how to appreciate anything you have, when you haven\u2019t had to work for it or struggle or wait \u2014 it just creates entitlement. Some of the most affluent kids are some of the saddest ones.\u201d He\u2019s seen enough of that to be afraid of it. He has children of his own.<\/p>\n

\u201cGoing to camp gives kids the ability to be courageous for the first time, in an environment that supports it. You get up in sixth grade and start singing or dancing, you\u2019re gonna get murdered by the kids there,\u201d he says, setting his jaw. \u201cThose mean kids at that age are just old enough to know how to say the worst things without knowing what any of it means. And you spend the rest of your life trying to get over the things that happen to you when you\u2019re young.<\/p>\n

\n\t\u201cBut there\u2019s a redemption from all those things,\u201d he continues. \u201cYou live in whatever prison you believe is there. And it\u2019s a facade. It\u2019s all a facade.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tA lot of people aren\u2019t happy, according to Brown, because they\u2019re too busy protecting themselves to give anything away. \u201cA lot of people miss out on the real joy in life, which comes from serving other people. That\u2019s what really makes you happy at your core,\u201d he says, unaware that he\u2019s putting his whole Survivor<\/em> experience into focus.<\/p>\n

\n\tThat sentiment explains the free diving, where you either surrender to the moment or you die. It explains the inspirational tattoos, the hardcore cooking, and Camp Southern Ground. And, most of all, it highlights why Brown is here, barefoot on a beach in Fiji, playing songs for people until some of them cry.<\/p>\n

\n\t\u201cEvery day on Survivor<\/em> you\u2019re counting down the days. You\u2019re marking them in the trees. But that was the night we just wanted to stretch out for eternity,\u201d Wade says. \u201cTwenty years from now, we won\u2019t talk about who got voted out or who won immunity. We\u2019re gonna talk about the night we spent with each other and Zac.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tProbst, who has spent 26 years watching people disintegrate and transcend themselves under impossible conditions, has one more point he wants to voice about Brown\u2019s trip to the set. \u201cHe flew out here to fucking Fiji,\u201d he says. \u201cI can\u2019t imagine asking someone to do everything he did and then sit for an interview. This only happened because he wanted it to happen.\u201d<\/p>\n

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\t\tTrending Stories<\/p>\n<\/h2>\n<\/section>\n

\n\tOn the boat that morning, that rang true. Before the cameras, before the castaways, before the songs and the tears and the fillet knife and the jalape\u00f1os, Brown, breathless and grinning, was right where he wanted to be.<\/p>\n

\n\t\u201cWhat you get spiritually from being where no one ever goes,\u201d he says. \u201cYou feel small in the best way ever.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n


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