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!!!  

 

Dear Readers,

The other day I received some mail that I thought you might find interesting. My response follows...



Dear Dave-
 
Thanks so very much for your thoughtful and—dare I say—highly imaginative letter, but especially for your flatterous words.  
 
A musician always loves people who will take the time to kiss ass a little, but preferably a LOT. We music-types have huge EGOs, imho!  Usually that “flattery” takes slightly different forms, though, like praising my original music or comparing me to artists I dig, such as Nick Cave, Billie Holiday or the great Barry Manilow. Sometimes people just compliment me on my quality footwear. But saying you covet my domain name—JezebelJones.com—is almost just as good.
 
As a fellow arteest, I’m sure you can understand the importance of a owning the same dot com name as your already-established stage/band name. In fact, it may be slightly more important than owning the dot com name of a character in a yet-to-be-completed first novel.
 
Although I didn’t read your fan-fiction—primarily because I’m not a fan-fiction fan, but also because I hate to read—I’m sure your upcoming novel will be equal parts moody and dangerously brilliant, and sell like DC crack til you finally make the New York Times Best Seller List.  If a talentless hack like E.L. James (also a fan-fiction writer!) can manage to write a best seller, literally anyone can.
 
I understand why you feel marketing your upcoming first novel/runaway debut bestseller is more important than my relatively trivial musical endeavors. As you so politely did NOT point out, soon you’ll be outselling Stephen King while I’m opening up for some puppet show at a theme park in California. So really…what’s the point in me even keeping JezebelJones.com ?
 
That’s a tough question to answer. I guess while you’ve been riffing on JK Rowling’s ideas, I’ve been working on writing unique, “riff-free” music, getting the word out about it and building a community of friends and supporters.  I’m sure you can understand why it’s at least marginally important for me to keep using JezebelJones.com.

Also, my Turkish fans might be really pissed if you took over the domain.  I really, really don’t want to let them down. They're very nice. And they’ve been through enough lately, don’t you think?
 
That said, I’m not entirely unreceptive to selling the domain name for the right price. Turkey will understand…eventually.

Since you didn’t mention money at all, I assume that money is no object. I get it. That’s cool. I know several trust fund kids, and they’re only mean drunks when they’re drinking. But considering the time, money, passion and pain it has cost me these past several years to write/produce music, build a fan base and promote my site—not to mention the continued long-tail value over the next several decades…
 
In short, I would be willing to sell the JezebelJones.com domain name for...(drum-roll, please)... 

$1,000,000 US.

It feels like the right amount for this “prime Internet property”, as you call it. Funds would need to be verified beforehand, naturally.   But I think we really “get” each other, so maybe we could skip that part. However, I would feel much better if I could sign the transfer paperwork after your payment posts to the Swiss bank account I plan to open.
 
As far as the hosting, rebuilding and re-architecting of my website, I would prefer not to have a Drupal developer touch JezebelJones.com. Ever. Please never mention it again, as it is extremely upsetting to me for obvious reasons. “Unsweeten the deal”, so to speak.
 
In summary, I prefer to keep JezebelJones.com.  But money talks. And bullshit does something else altogether, but that’s not important here. I’m willing to part with the domain name if I can afford to quit my 9-5 job, pay off my debts and pursue my music full time.  We all have to make sacrifices, I guess.
 
At this point you're probably wondering what I’d do with the money from the sale of my domain name. Most likely, I would buy a tiny cottage in Ireland or lease a flat in Paris or Berlin where I could smoke gratuitous amounts of high-quality marijuana, write my next album and take up urban landscape painting. Maybe Barcelona would make more sense for all of that. Well, I’d better go brush up on my Spanish.
 
Looking forward to your kind response.  Adiós (aka, “goodbye”).


-Jezebel Jones


P.S. To your point, no, I wasn't able to to secure "jezebeljones" as some of my social media handles, thus I go by "msjezebeljones" on Twitter, YouTube and Instagram.   You said that msjezebeljones.com would be a “perfect alternative domain name” for my website. I completely agree except I would replace the “alternative” with “additional”, at least until you purchase my domain.  So I have additionally secured msjezebeljones.com in anticipation of that joyous event.


UPDATE 7/23/15:

Dave emailed me back.  This is what he had to say...

Thanks for the forthright and humorous response. If-ever I have $1,000,000 to spend on a domain name, I’ll be sure to come back with a new and proper proposal!

Goodbye, Texas.  

I'll be hitting the road soon--remaining dog at my side--driving  through Roswell, NM, Moab, UT and Boise, ID, on my way to my new (and old) home, Seattle.  I've landed a good day job, and a songwriter often needs one of those things to pay the bills.  I love a good road trip and this one's bound to be inspiring. 

I'm talkin' about the road.  Inspiring. Expansive. Full of Revelations.

But if the car is the modern American horse, what are planes?  

Planes are annoying.  Too much waiting. Too little room, obnoxious people, crying babies. And then there's the crotch-grabbing before you even board the plane...

We teach our children not to let strangers touch their genitals (STRANGER, DANGER!!!), but apparently random agents of the government can touch our genitals all they want, in a public place.

Today one of my favorite alternative weekly's--the Denver Westword--posted a funny story on TSA crotch-grabbing memes.  As I scrolled through, I laughed but started to get a teeny bit annoyed that all the TSA memes they posted were of MEN.  I have first hand experience with the TSA fondling my labia, and I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one. 

So I thought I'd post a female TSA meme--surely they existed.  But after some unsuccessful googling, apparently the internet thinks airport crotch groping it IS a male problem, because I couldn't find much in the way of female TSA memes.  

So I found a picture that works (and jives well with my upbringing) and made my own. 

Happy Sunday, Everyone.  

Fly America at your own risk.

-Jez

 

Note to the reader: I wasn't gonna publish this post outside my facebook friend circle, mostly because I've recently made peace with my born-again Christian folks and was worried about them reading it. But I've been challenged to live a more honest life, be who I am and not be ashamed. Called to be more vulnerable and share some of the adventures of my (sometimes) adventurous life. Sure, sometimes I take liberties and perhaps exaggerate here and there, as any Texas-based storyteller might.  But I'm no longer willing to censor myself for others...nor apologize for my "wicked ways", so here it is...

Last night was insane. 

Bussed it to a local rock club. Oh my vengeful god, the band sucked. The drummer was particularly ludicrous; apparently he spends all his practice time tossing his sticks and making up fancy "I’m-such-a-badass-rocker" moves and no time on actually keeping time.
 After a few truly terrible songs, I walked to a nearby convenience store looking to kill time before the next band. On the way back I noticed a bar with rainbow lights called The Annex and thought, "what the hell..." 

You know the scene from those old westerns. Stranger walks into the saloon. Entire room goes quiet as everyone stares at the stranger. Then everybody goes back to what they were doing but that uneasy feeling still lingers in the air. There was literally only one other woman in the place.

Should I even be here? Did I break some kind of unwritten SA gay code? So I flat out asked the adorable, husky man boy to my right. Within minutes I met all his friends and we got to know each other over drinks and lots of laughs. Soon Eddie and his pals had me following them to another bar with rainbow lights: one that featured male strippers. 

OH SNAP these strippers were freakin’ hot. AMAZING bodies and faces, excellent erotic dancing skills. My new gay friend-pack thought it was great fun to call them over and then shove dollar bills in my hand and have me tip the dancers. (People see me as wild--and I can be sometimes--but I’m still a bit of a modest Catholic school girl). I was titillated and embarrassed and being a good sport about it as these smokin' guys pummeled my face with their...errrr...packages.

Let’s just say they weren’t shy about earning those dollar bills. Let’s just say at least one of the hot dancers was definitely NOT gay. Let’s just say some of events that happened shortly afterwards are not safe for work, or my parents or impressionable children but will provide fabulous fodder for my unauthorized biography.

Let’s just say what happens in San Antonio stays in San Antonio.