Saying an artist’s music is simply “rock and roll” feels a little strange these days, when sub-genres have sub-genres. But rock and roll is precisely what Justin Jones is.
Justin Jones might even remind you of Bruce Springsteen, if the Boss were raised in Virginia and grew up listening to the blues, Paul Simon, and The Band. He has a great ear that makes his music sound as fresh as it is reverent to its influences. His songs have an easy charm, too: No glockenspiels, no Auto-Tune, no gimmicks—just a songwriter with a guitar and a crack band.
Jones had a precipitous rise in the music world, transcribing and transcending his demons, making a name for himself via four full-length LPs and a God-awful lot of touring. In fact, Jones so inspired Washington, D.C.-area concert promoter and 9:30 Club owner, Seth Hurwitz that he created a record label just for Jones, and Fading Light is the result. The product of over two years of songwriting, the tunes on Fading Light range from Southern-flavored rock to enchanting ballads, all driven by mature, heartfelt lyrics.
Jones appears poised for a major breakthrough, and he’s about to hit the road for his “I Can Feel It Tour 2013” which will kick off in Columbus, Ohio and take him around the U.S. through mid-March. We spoke with him between gigs, and he was full of introspection, cautious optimism, and lots of laughter.
Are you driving back from New York?
Yes, but I’ve been eagerly awaiting your phone call, knowing that you’re probably just waking up and getting things going out there on the West Coast!
Yeah, I need to know why you’re not touring out here. I think the closest point west is Oklahoma.
You want to know why? Well, don’t go to Oklahoma! [Laughs] If you’re gonna go all the way to Oklahoma, you might as well go to Austin instead. [Laughs]
Plus, Oklahoma only has 3.2 beer, which is very sad.
Exactly! I was just explaining that to someone last night! I have toured out there, but it’s hard to repeat visit because it’s so far and there’s such a vast area of uninhabited space. I love playing out there; Oregon is probably my favorite place in the world, but it’s just too expensive. You get to understand where I’m at… I mean, I’d come out there to play a show just for you. I mean, literally—you’d be the only one there, and that just does not play the bills. [Laughs] On the East Coast, you can hit a dozen major cities in a day.
Since you’re based in D.C., you’re in a prime location to tour, then.
Maybe. I don’t even know.
Well, then, how are you defining success for yourself?
How do I define success for myself? You know, it’s weird… because to a lot of people I’m already successful. I have friends that I played music with in high school and they’re like, “Holy shit, man! You’re a rock star! You tour all over the country!” [Laughs] And I’m just laughing because I’m thinking, “Yeah, I play for ten people in Oklahoma!” [Laughs] To them, the fact that I’m doing it is insane, because they’re working at, like, pharmaceutical companies and places like that.
I’ll tell ya—I’m not really sure how I define success. When you can’t make any money, you’re not very successful; ultimately, it doesn’t matter to me if I make money or not, but it does matter to the people around me. My kids have to eat food, and you have to buy food with money—or grow it—but typically buy it. There’s a myriad of reasons why I don’t consider myself successful or why I don’t say, “Well! All done!” [Laughs]
Given all the realities of the road and what you’re saying, do you feel optimistic? I understand that the label you’re on was created just for you to give you a big push forward.
Well … my obligation to that label is sort of up, contractually or whatever. I feel like they really wanted it to work, but had no idea how to work it. It was really humbling to have so many people believe in what I was doing enough to want to work at it. But the problem was it was a bunch of people who had never put out records before. We learned a lot as we went, as a whole team of people. I would say there was probably ten of us working on these releases and promoting them.
It just takes an enormous amount of money to do it. It’s unreal. I spent $15,000 to record the record—that is unheard of cheap, you know what I mean? People think that is crazy that I only spent that much money.
But that was every penny that I had—everything that I could scrape together. It took everything I had to put that together. On top of that, there was probably thirty or forty grand put into promoting it. That’s a shitload of money to me, but when you compare it… I was talking with my former agent, and he was like, “It feels like there’s just no momentum with you. There’s nobody working your album.” And I was like, “Well, what are you talking about? There’s a publicist, there’s this radio guy…” And he’s like, “Yeah, but I’ve got another artist, for example, with seven radio guys and his label’s constantly on me about everything.” I think that’s sort of the reality of trying to do something yourself. You end up not really knowing what the fuck you’re doing. And then you find out and you think of all the things you should’ve done.
I guess next time I make an album, I’ll have a clearer understanding of all that, and then there will be all these other mistakes that I’ll make and learn from.
I’m told that you’re not really on the path to making it in the music business until you’re being constantly disappointed.
That’s true. I often say this: There’s no let up on the let-downs. I also liken it to trying to climb Mount Everest with a jean jacket on. It just seems like there’s no fuckin’ way it’s gonna work out. [Laughs] And I can just laugh about it because it’s funny; I can say that to you honestly because there’s the whole part of me that things there is no way this is going to work out. I’ll have this conversation with my wife and I’ll be, like, “Look, we’re not really gaining ground.” [Laughs] And then, “Things are really moving!” [Laughs] And that’s true, but they’re both true.
With creative endeavors, at least, it’s like… you have to get to the point where you’re ready to quit and then something will happen.
Yeah, exactly! That’s exactly right, and I’ve had that moment probably four or five times where I was like, “I don’t give a fuck about anything!” And then, people tell you, “Oh, no! You’re really good!” And so you’re like, “Thank you! I really needed that right now. Turns out I do give a fuck.” [Laughs]
Do you read Bob Lefsetz?
[Laughs uproariously] No! I’ll tell you why I’m laughing. My former manager wrote a parody of one of those letters and sent it to Billboard and they got in this big argument back and forth. They hate each other now, but it was really funny.
I was thinking of something he said in one of his more recent ones…
Well, there’s no denying that he’s a smart guy!
Definitely! I don’t always agree with him, but he wrote something today that stuck in my mind as I was preparing to talk to you. He was talking about how cutthroat the business is. He put it kind of grotesquely and said something to the effect that if you’re truly a professional, you’re willing to blow anybody to get ahead. Like, if you’re serious you should be prepared to do that—literally or figuratively. What do you think when you hear something like that?
I would say that I’m quite the antithesis of that. I’m absolutely not willing to cater to too much. I just feel like at the end of the day, I gotta live with myself and live with the choices I make. I certainly don’t want to be figuratively or literally blowing anybody. [Laughs] But don’t get me wrong—there are people who do it that way.
Look, I kind of feel like… do what you’ve got to do to get by. I’m not in the pop music business so I don’t have to be ripped or young or any of the things… I don’t have to be any of those [pop music] things for the kind of music that I write in order for people to get it. I’m sort of lucky that way. But I think the pop music business is very cutthroat. You probably have to wash the taste of dick out of your mouth a few times a month. [Laughs]
The pop music business has probably always been that way, partly because it is so ephemeral. Your music is more the kind of stuff you can sink your teeth into. And there seems like there’s an upsurge in the popularity of rock and roll again. After a long pop dominance, do you feel like the pendulum is starting to swing back a bit?
We played a show in Indianapolis a while ago and someone came up to me afterwards and said, “I just wanted to thank you for playing fucking rock and roll—no xylophones and whistles and melodicas and shit.” And I love all that stuff, but you know what I’m talking about. I never really paid particular attention to the newest trending thing. When stuff gets a little too derivative, it just starts to sound like watered-down whatever it’s trying to rip off. To me, it’s just never as good as the real thing.
Now, you said that you think there’s an upsurge in the popularity of rock and roll.
Well, at least a renewed interest.
Can you give me an example of a band… or why you think that? Are you lumping Mumford and Sons and The Lumineers and that kind of stuff into what I’m doing?
No, I’m not. I’ve seen a bunch of different descriptions of your music, and I’ve seen it called a lot of things. To me, however, it sounds like rock and roll. Obviously, it has different facets and you’ve obviously been exposed to a variety of genres—and that comes through.
As far as an example of a band, I just got back from being out on the road with Everest and I’d classify their music as rock and roll—great hooks, great guitar solos, playing their asses off…
And it’s fucking mesmerizing, isn’t it? [Laughs]
It’s unbelievable. It’s like a parallel existence. But it’s cool to hear them play that kind of music.
I know what you mean. I just don’t want to see anymore acoustic trios, you know? [Laughs]
So, it seems like people are looking for that kind of sound, for what you do. Maybe I’m biased.
I hope you’re right.
Your songwriting has some serious heft to it. Your previous albums focused on dealing with drug addiction and coming out of that.
Well, it’s all relative, you know?
That’s heavy stuff.
I wouldn’t call it any heavier than anything that you went through or anybody else. It just was a catalyst for me to express myself about those subjects. I don’t sing a lot of love songs, I’ll put it that way. [Laughs] Not that I don’t love love songs!
How would you classify your songwriting, then? No love songs, no excuses?
Well, I have plenty of love songs, actually. To me, it’s rock and roll. On my album, there’s several really slow, sparse acoustic things. I have trouble defining it because to me, in my narcissistic mind, I find it so brilliant that it can’t be defined. [Laughs] I don’t know… I don’t want to take away from it by saying, [metalhead voice] yeah, it’s just fuckin’ rock, dude, whatever… and act like I don’t give a shit—I do.
But I also don’t want to make it seem like it’s more important that it is; it’s just guys in a van driving around, playing music for people. I want it to be important to people, because it’s important to me, but… what was the question? How do I define my music?
Yeah. Maybe you can’t, or maybe it doesn’t matter.
To me, it’s just rock. I often feel like if things are good, then people like it. If it’s a good song, people will like it. I like a lot of different things that are good. I would say that my music is good.
Are you one of those musicians that is inspired to write by being out on the road?
I can’t say that [my songwriting] is necessarily inspired by anything. I don’t know where it really comes from. It’s sort of like having a fantasy; you sort of have the fantasy and then you write it down. I have this, like, audio fantasy that I then write down. I can’t really say what causes it or how it turns out.
Sometimes I’ll write a song and think it’s strange, then a week later I’ll be like, “Oh, I know what that’s about!” It’s sort of revealed to me in time… or I interpret it to be what I want it to be. [Laughs] And other times, I’m like “I’m writing a song for my daughter,” or whatever. It’s all different ways.
Your songwriting does seem to be very honest…
Well, it’s not autobiographical. It is, but it isn’t It’s like a Wikipedia page; you might find some shit in there that’s not true. The granddaddy longlegs are not the most poisonous spiders in the world, I’m telling you that right now. [Laughs]
Do you feel like you have to hold back?
Yes, all the time. I mean, I’m pressured to do so.
Do you put the pressure on yourself?
I do now. I’ve been made aware; before I would say whatever the hell I wanted. Now, I know I don’t want to cuss in songs. I want my kids to be able to listen to my music and not say, “Daddy said ‘fuck’,” you know? Even though I feel it doesn’t really matter… God, I go back and forth on this so much—this cussing thing. It drives me nuts to think about how much I don’t think it matters, but still… when somebody cusses in front of my kid, I’m like “Shut the fuck up!”
At this point, I’m not really writing about… I’m not touching on my drugs. I’m not really writing content that I feel is unsavory for children to hear. I sort of got that out right away with the first couple of albums. I got all the NC-17 records done and now I’ve moved on to the PG stuff.
But in a weird way, I honestly think that the NC-17 records are so personal that they’re almost harder to identify with because it’s so obviously not you [the listener]. Because the story is so specific. I think I’ve gotten smarter, as a lyricist, in opening up the story for people to be able to get inside of it instead of just observe it.
That makes sense to me, especially given your description of Fading Light as your “reawakening.” You’ve found new ways to say what you need to say.
Yeah, and then also… it’s like what we were talking about before, it’s so often that you feel so defeated by pursuing what you love, no matter what it is. I think anytime you pursue what you love, you often get defeated—especially if you’re an artist or a writer. I grew up in a family of writers, so I know how it is.
You get defeated and you say to yourself, “Fuck this—I don’t give a fuck about you people.” And you kind of put it on the shelf for a little bit, and then it won’t leave you alone. It paws at you and, eventually, you’re pettin’ that little kitty again. [Laughs]
Can you talk a bit about what audiences can expect from your live shows?
I don’t know. Honestly, the songs are starting to get in the way of my jokes. [Laughs] I don’t know how to describe it. It’s really good. Very moving. [Laughs]
Okay, so you obviously enjoy the hell out of what you’re doing, and I can tell your music has a ton of influences. Could tell us a bit about the records that inspired you to become a songwriter?
Well, I don’t think it would be possible for me to not mention Graceland. To me, it’s probably one of the best albums, ever, beginning to end.
I like a lot of different things. I was sort of raised on blues and soul music. When I look at the core of myself, my name is Luther and I’m a 68-year-old black guy with one green eye and a couple gold teeth and I play harmonica in a blues band that plays at this shithole in the ghetto in Baltimore. Nobody comes to the gigs, and I’ll have played there my whole life—like, five days a week my band plays there.
One night, Keith Richards is in town and he comes in and jams with me. Word gets around and someone recorded it and then that record gets released, and I die the day before it gets released. When it’s released, it’s the biggest fuckin’ hit blues thing since Stevie Ray Vaughan. On the inside, that’s what I look like. [Laughs]
A tragic soul with an incredible sense of humor!
Dude, you know I was in therapy the other day and the doctor said that I was tortured. [Laughs] I laughed in his face, because I feel like that’s hilarious. It just seemed so funny—yeah, I’m tortured by your bill! [Laughs]
Justin Jones: Official | Facebook | Twitter
Photos courtesy Julia Lofstrand.
Justin Jones on Tour:
Feb. 19 – Woodlands Tavern, Columbus, OH
Feb. 20 – Radio Radio, Indianapolis, IN
Feb. 24 – Ignition Music, Goshen, IN
Feb. 25 – Daytrotter Session, Rock Island, IL
Feb. 26 – Vaudeville Mews, Des Moines, IA
Feb. 28 – Wormy Dog Saloon, Oklahoma City, OK
Mar. 1 – Woodshed Smokehouse, Fort Worth, TX
Mar. 2 – Lambert’s, Austin, TX
Mar. 3 – BJ’s Lounge, New Orleans, LA
Mar. 4 – The Nick, Birmingham, AL
Mar. 6 – The Five Spot, Atlanta, GA
Mar. 7 – Conundrum Music Hall, Columbia, SC
Mar. 8 – The Royal American, Charleston, SC
Mar. 9 – Soapbox, Wilmington, NC
Mar. 10 – Pour House Music Hall, Raleigh, NC
Mar. 12 – Martin’s, Roanoke, VA
Mar. 13 – The Camel, Richmond, VA
Mar. 15 – Clementine, Harrisonburg, VA
Mar. 16 – Rock and Roll Hotel, Washington, DC
