I’m still finding stickers on my body 
From when the nurse pulled the EKG cables off 
at the local emergency room 

I drove there on empty 
Chest pain making it hard to breathe 
And I thought about the songwriter’s songwriter 
Who lost his heart battle 
Here in Mount Juliet… 
Or maybe Smyrna 
(there are conflicting reports) 

I’ve been thinking of your death all week 
Bursts of fresh tears burn my skin  
They didn’t ask about you at the doctor 
X-rays and cardio-rhythms tell stories 
But never give the full report 

I said I might know
Why my chest has been hurting 
But they didn’t want to listen
Or they surely would have asked 
At least one follow-up question 
Streamlined science 
Without courageous empathy 
Is disappointing 
Dismissive
And maybe deadly 

They’re being kind
Asking if I like Tennessee
Excelling at small talk
As southern folk do
Another nurse and I have the same birthday
(which isn’t statistically significant, apparently)
And they talk about the cold spell we’re having
Careful not to ask questions
About the grief I had aforementioned

They pumped stuff through my one good vein
Said it would take away the pain
But it’s not going away
I know my own heart
And at this point I know
They’re afraid of my blue-gold eyes
Swelling red, welling up
So I lied to them and said
That the pain has gone away 

Then they leave me waiting
In an ice-cold room
For nearly three hours
Popping in periodically
To offer thin sterile blankets
While I wait for test results 

They didn’t ask
They didn’t want to know
Maybe they didn’t want to see me cry
Discomfort drives the diagnosis
(or lack thereof) 

The tests say I’m healthy
The doctor says I’m fine
The nurse said I could go
That I wasn’t going to die today
I told him a bit sternly
“you don’t know that”
I almost died yesterday
Just crossing the street
He much-too-quickly agreed
ER nurse pragmatism 

They treated me kindly
They didn’t refer me to a therapist
But suggested a cardiologist
If I had any further concerns 

They brought me two warm sterile blankets
But didn’t ask me two heart-felt questions
They took my blood and urine
But not my opinion
About the heartache behind the heart pains 

They gave me a prescription I won’t fill
It won’t heal the hurt I still feel
It’s been five years to the day
It never completely goes away 

I opened the wooden box
Untied the bag of ashes
Filled a brass pendant
To wear you close

I know my own heart

I have a new rule: 

I can indulge in social media when I’m sick  

So sick I relish the association between sick and social. Social and sick  

Two things that sometimes make my stomach churn hard 

Linked.  

In.  

My.  

Brain. 

That association will be useful when I’m feeling stronger 

It will remind me to stay away 

Sick is social and social is sick 

It will help me 

When I need less integration 

More imagination 

More objectivity 

Less objectification 

More nature-gazing 

And meditating 

Less influence 

Less persuasion 

Less selfies 

Less ego 

Less 

But I’m sick 

Virus or food poisoning; it’s unclear 

For a short time I need homogenization 

And holograms 

I need an interference pattern 

To confuse my brain 

To transition me back to the land of the living 

So I’ll browse a few posts 

And half-heartedly check notifications 

Try to feel connection 

When I’m isolated by ill 

Banished by fever 

Feeling lonely 

(which only happens rarely) 

I could use a nurse 

A mother-figure 

Some nurturing love 

The kind I haven’t had for at least a decade 

It’s a sweltering early October 

Full sun and 98 degrees outside 

Hot and cold strikes hard inside 

I can’t do anything 

Except lay on the couch 

Stomach churning with distaste 

That rice might not stay down 

And I have to take the dog out 

He hasn’t been on a real walk for three long days 

Today is his fake birthday 

(his real one is uncertain) 

The day he was adopted three years ago 

It was supposed to be happy 

We were going to go to the three dog bakery 

For fancy overpriced treats 

For wags 

And smiles 

And praise 

For what a sweet, handsome fellow he is 

(he really is) 

Instead I’m on the coach apologizing to him 

Crying 

And thinking about my first dog 

The one I lost 5 Octobers ago 

The one I still miss 

And still apologize to 

For not being perfect 

Social media is a so-so substitute; 

What I really need is 

Saltines and ice 

And someone to  

Run to the pharmacy 

Make me iced jasmine tea

(unsweet, of course) 

Toss me a fashion magazine for distraction 

Take out my dog 

So I can avoid the torturous Tennessee sun 

Somebody to tell me  

in a few days I’ll be alright 

And the weather will be cooler 

More like fall 

Less like hell

Love and Loss in 2018

Like most of us, 2018 dealt some hope but also a lot of pain. For me it was the loss of a very kind friend named Kelli Archer, from Austin, Texas.  She stuck her neck out for me more than once and supported hundreds of musicians through the shows she produced outside her former vintage store, Roadhouse Rags.  I wrote a tribute song in Kelli’s honor; you can check out a quick DIY live video of the song “The Last Austin Cowgirl” below.

This fall I also lost the lease to my apartment in Minneapolis unexpectedly. Since I didn’t have a day job lined up, my dog Banjo and I traveled between Nashville and Minneapolis, bouncing from Airbnbs to artist cabins to hotels to friend’s houses . Between September and November we stayed in 15 different places (!!!!), trying to find full time housing…without a job it was no easy task.  It was off-the-charts stressful and a bit depressing, but a few good friends came to the rescue during this time. Thank you, GOOD FRIENDS!  I love you and you mean the world to me. 

Release of Deathfolk Magic 

In the midst of all this housing chaos, I finally released the first EP for my side project Bye Bye Banshee. ‘Deathfolk Magic’ came out on October 5, 2018.   At its heart, Bye Bye Banshee is new-age-meets-old-world-funeral music.   I’ve been researching and writing music based around death culture and mythology for about six years…and we captured four folklore-inspired tunes on this initial recording. The EP was expertly co-produced by Jeff Crandall (Swallows, J.Briozo) and it was recorded/mixed/mastered by audio guru Tom Garneau (Prince, Sting).  I also had an amazing band backing me up on this production, including Chris and JT Bates, Aaron Kerr and Brett Hansen.

‘Deathfolk Magic’ has garnered some nice reviews so far. Here are a few quotes...

"She inhabits every line of the song with unique ferocity and demonstrates all-encompassing vocal control with her ability to vary her voice from hushed respect to muscular, elongated lines seemingly dredged up from fiery depths of her heart...Jezebel Jones has written and recorded an EP release no one else could have..." - No Depression

"The music is jazzy, dark, mystical and I thought it would work perfectly in the first season of True Detective...That being said the vocals are the star of the show. Jones is dynamic, sleek and mysterious when she sings..." - Divide and Conquer

"The whole thing sounds like a New Orleans jam designed to raise the dead, a shamanic ritual and soundtrack in a ballroom beyond time. But for all its bleak subject matter the music is gorgeous in its understatement...and beautifully soothing." - Dancing About Architecture

You can read more about the project, see the reviews and listen to/download the music here. 

I've Moved Again...this time to Nashville

In December I signed a lease just outside Nashville.  I won’t say exactly where but it’s very close to the cabin where my hero—songwriter Townes Van Zandt—died. For a nerdy nomadic introvert like myself it’s helpful to be in a friendly city where people actually look you in the eyes, smile and even say hello. It’s very easy to meet people here…and those little southern charms warm my chilly northern heart. But I won’t lie, it’s the music and the mild winters that makes me most excited to be here. I like walking my dog in the January rain, grass still lush and green.  I’ve seen some amazing music here and will start playing live shows again soon.

To keep in touch, be sure to sign up for my NEW AND IMPROVED monthly newsletter, which will kick off in February 2018. New music, videos, poetry, illustrations and more!!!  

 

Well I've been back home in the cold arms of Mother Minnesota for about a year and when people ask what I've been up to I slightly sheepishly tell them about my latest music project, Bye Bye Banshee, which takes on the topic of death from a decidedly female perspective. I've been surprised to find a very welcome reception to the ideas I've been exploring through this project.

In the past several years I've done a lot of moving (Austin, San Antonio, Seattle, Minneapolis/St. Paul) and a lot of writing and drawing.  A lot of grieving. Very little performing.  

But still I've been bubbling over with creative energy, honing my song craft. And getting ready to hit the stage again...and my first UK show at the Death & the Maiden Conference is on the horizon.

My curious fear and fascination of death started when I was a small child. Blame my Catholic childhood. My Pentecostal puberty. My fear of hell. My natural inclination towards the dark and mysterious.

But I've come to look at death as a spectrum with many colors.  That's what Bye Bye Banshee is all about. The dark. The light. All the curious shades in between. I believe that the fear of death, that (often) unspoken dread, causing suffering and evil.  For me, writing this music is part of the cure.

In less than two weeks, I'll be back in the studio, this time recording the first EP for Bye Bye Banshee.  It's been a deeply spiritual experience and I've chosen people who I believe will take that soul approach to my project, including Twin Cities jazz composers Chris Bates (Red 5, Atlantis Quartet) and JT Bates (Andrew Bird,Trampled by Turtles) on upright bass and drums, Aaron Kerr (Swallows) on cello and my good friend Jeff Crandall (J.Briozo, Swallows) as co-producer. Minneapolis legend Tom Garneau will be recording and mixing.

I'll be posting some stuff from the studio soon.  But in the meantime, you can hear early, crude at-home recordings of some songs at the new Bye Bye Banshee site here. 
 

Yours in life and death, 

Jezebel

Update: you can now check out the music of Bye Bye Banshee here. The upcoming EP, Deathfolk Magic, will be released October 5, 2018.
 

This summer, I’ve been connecting more with my roots—I grew up in rural Minnesota on 45 acres—and am being pulled back to the country life little by little. This summer has included several visits to Wisconsin, including playing a lovely barn show at an organic farm near Dane.

Today I’m heading back to Spring Green, WI to see my first show at the Shitty Barn. Two eclectic Americana artists are on the bill: Paul Fonfara (Painted Saints, Brass Messengers) and Jim White. 

I have yet to see Paul Fonfara perform since I’ve moved back to MN; I prefer songwriters who are a bit odd (or even really odd) and have a dark and/or quirky sound, so I appreciate his music.  He’s an alumni of Denver greats DeVotchKa, 16 Horsepower and Wovenhand, and an incredibly talented composer, arranger and multi-instrumentalist in his own right.  Why he’s not a huge star in the new folk genre mystifies me. Maybe because Fonfara choses to live in Minnesota.  At any rate, we’re really lucky to have him (Check out 'Company Town' live from Cedar Cultural Center). 

And then there’s songwriter, producer and artist Jim White, who rarely graces the north with his unique blend of roots music and philosophical (often sardonic) lyrics.  Pitchfork had an apt description: “all the comparisons that can be made to Tom Waits, Lambchop, Grandaddy and Vic Chesnutt will only tell a small part of the story. What all these disparate elements that White pulls together add up to is White's alone, a style with no real name, American as barbecue sauce on apple pie.”  (Watch a live version of 'If Jesus Drove a Motorhome')

Several years ago, as a brand-new songwriter, I came across this independent music documentary by White called, 'Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus'.  Admittedly, it sounds trite to say it changed my life, but it did change the course of my music.  The movie is a travelogue of sorts, dark folk song vignettes interspersed with eerie scenery and interviews of life in the south.  The film—and its soundtrack—introduced me to artists that have had a profound impact on my sound and songwriting: 16 Horsepower, The Handsome Family, Johnny Dowd and Jim White himself. 

White’s film was a portal for me. It was C.S. Lewis’ wardrobe, Lewis Carroll’s rabbit hole.  One intriguing artist from the film led to another, who led to another, who led to another and so on. Somehow it tied me back to my country, Pentecostal upbringing in a way I struggle to explain. I saw how music—and life—could be married to the dark and light and all the grays in between. 

Live music is powerful magic. It has transformative, healing powers. And I need to be transformed. Tonight my church is barn in southern Wisconsin, where I can listen and learn and be moved by the spirit.

-Jezebel

P.S. Wanna see what I've been working on? Check out my new folk-psych music project, Bye Bye Banshee.

Death is all around us. Mostly in America, we avoid it.  For some reason, it's comforting to acknowledge Lady Death and make peace with her. 

When I write a song that confronts my fears...when I sing and breathe out that fear, that ominous presence--a kind of exorcism happens. And the fear is banished. Or at least slinks away sullenly into a dark corner somewhere.

That's what happened with this song: healing magic. (Also, it's kind of badass, as acoustic songs go.)

A recurring nightmare.

A nightmare no more.

Exorcism.
 

Update: Check out the song "If I Die in My Dreams", by Jezebel's new side project Bye Bye Banshee.

This odd-shaped box holds many secrets 
Some spill out too readily 
Some aren't mine to tell 
Some I hold too dearly 
Some I lose indefinitely 
Some I lose permanently 
(which is probably for the best)

















 

Once we were children of the light… 
And the darkness was our maker and mover 
Lurking in the trees 
Hiding behind shady motives 
Pushing us onward 
to Armageddon.

-J. Jones

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