It would be fair if you didn’t. It started with a skipped month, which led to another, and another. I haven’t been writing much. I feel ok about it.

In my lifetime, really my adult life, we’ve gone from speaking to texting to posting, and along the way we started to expect everyone to have something to say. Now, I know myself well enough to acknowledge that this trajectory has worked pretty well for me. I like to talk. I enjoy a statement. But do you get the feeling we’re all talking at the same time?

So I decided to make a little room….

However, my will power was limited. So I wrote something short.

A few fun things to share:

1. If you’re in New York City, Knife Thrower, a very cool band I play in, has a show at Mercury lounge on Wednesday night.

   

2. During my duo tour with Lau Nau last April, we played a concert in a beautiful studio in Rome called Studio 33. They created a lovely multi camera video of the concert. Maybe you would enjoy checking it out.

Alright, that’s all for now. Back to other people’s statements.

Talk soon :)

Jonah

Are things in your life headed in the right direction? Yes? No? How do you know?

Wait, before you tell me, just a quick bit of news. In April, Lau Nau and I will be headed to Italy, Austria, and Germany for some shows supporting our album, A Few We Remember. Is that near you? I hope so. And I hope you’ll think about coming to share these nights with us. For me, nothing could be better!

Alright back to the questions.

Are you on the right track? How do you decide? Feel free to answer before reading further, I don’t want to contaminate your opinion.

Leave a comment

Every year, around December, many of my fellow musicians share numerical representations of their year’s achievements. Totals of concerts performed, a tally of albums released, compendiums of press, frequently a stream total from, the hopefully soon to be extinct, Spotify wrapped for artists. When I stumble upon these announcements, there’s some tightness in my chest as I ask myself what belongs on my scoreboard. Did I have a good year?

I begin to feel that life is about making piles of things. For some people, it’s a pile of money. Money isn’t a great metric for musicians, but we can still pile tour dates, albums, press, students, gear. Outside of music and money, there are still plenty of piles. There’s piles of exercise rings closed, duolingo streaks, or good sleep scores. For those engaged in the project of world improvement, there’s piles of protests, donations, elections, or hours volunteered. Bottom line, we are counting. Collecting data. Amassing evidence that we are on the right track.

When I was in high school I was shocked to learn that scientists actually start with research before forming a hypothesis. It makes sense, of course. How can you decide what you believe until you know what you’ll be counting? It’s easy to treat the question “Am I on the right track?” as an experiment:

Step 1 - Asses what data can be used to measure progress and trajectory (piles)
Step 2 - Form a hypothesis based on the data
Step 3 - Count the data
Conclusion - If the data meets expectations, things are on the right track

Case closed…

But what if the piles are getting bigger and it doesn’t feel like you’re on the right track? Sometimes it doesn’t matter what the scientists say, you just know. Intuition. Sometimes the data in an experiment is accurate, but the method is wrong. Just because it can be counted, doesn’t mean it needs to increase.

Anyway, let’s continue this conversation in person:

UPCOMING

March 31 - McNally Jackson - New York NY
Talking a little at We Jazz Magazine Spring Launch

April 6 - TV Eye - Brooklyn NY
Playing with Knife Thrower

DUO CONCERTS WITH LAU NAU
April 13 - Carambolage - Bolzano IT
April 15 - Secret Show - Milano IT
April 16 - Sacred Noise - Perugia IT
April 17 - Cockney London Pub - Correzzola IT
April 19 - Studio 33 - Roma IT
April 21 - Blöde Dritte Mittwoch - Wien AT
April 22 - Jazztage Ilmenau - Ilmenau DE

Hope to see you out there :)

Talk soon,
Jonah

I’ve been feeling pretty fearful lately.

• I’m afraid my spouse will be arrested in the street for not being white or American.

• I’m afraid I’m not doing enough to oppose this latest onslaught of state-sponsored injustice.

• I’m afraid that established media outlets like The New York Times are more interested in justifying the status quo than in reporting the news accurately.

• I’m afraid that social media chooses the most sensational voice over the one closest to the experience.

• I’m afraid that the government sponsored violence occurring on the streets of Minneapolis is a feature not a bug of American-Style Democracy.

• I’m afraid that if I log off social media I will be turning my back on suffering inflicted on my behalf.

• I’m afraid that the only reason I’m worried I’m not doing enough is because I care too much about what people think of me.

• I’m afraid of giving up on the country where I was born, and what that means about my loyalty to the people who can’t.

• I’m afraid that if things get a little better, everyone will forget. I’m afraid I will too.

• I’m afraid that in the end this fight and all other fights will be erased by the results of human caused climate change, and we will wonder how we squandered so much time.

Sometimes saying your fears out loud can weaken their grip. I’ve been feeling paralyzed. I think this is helping a little. If you’ve been feeling the same way, maybe you’ll try it too. You can email them to me if you want. The next step is accepting the fear and taking action.

If you’re interested, there have been calls for a nationwide shutdown this Friday January 30 to protest ICE. This is building momentum towards a future general strike, and any kind of participation makes a difference. Perhaps, those who can’t stop all activity for the day, can contribute by choosing not to shop.

Read more here: nationalshutdown.org

Speaking of shopping, for the remainder of January, if you buy any of my We Jazz Records releases (the 5 most recent), they will donate 25% to support mutual aid in Gaza, The Red Cross in Ukraine and marine ecosystem protection in The Baltic Sea. In addition, starting today, I will match that 25% with a donation to Mutual Aid Organizations in Minneapolis. So many battles all at once. All are worthy.

Find the music here: jonahpj.bandcamp.com

If you live in New York, and you’re interested in gathering to support the release of a powerful protest album by Public Speaking (out this week), I will be playing a duo set with Matthew Ryals (modular synth) at C’Mon Everybody for their album release show on February 11.

Find tickets here: link.dice.fm/E5142c0121b3?dice_id=E5142c0121b3

Let’s keep going,
Jonah

Right in the middle of my twenties, I paused my life as a full time musician to work as a political organizer for 6 years. From the start, I was shocked to find how similar life in grassroots organizing was to life as a DIY musician. Doing voter ID phone banks wasn’t that different from trying to book a tour, hiring campaign staff was just like contracting a band, and managing a candidate was shockingly similar to playing behind a lead singer (IYKYK).

When I returned to life as a full time musician in 2023, I found that it worked both ways. I came away from grassroots organizing with lots of new skills that were quite useful in the life of a DIY musician. I want to tell you about the biggest lesson I learned from political organizing, one that I apply to my life in music daily.

First though, I would like to remind you that my new duo album with Lau Nau, “A Few We Remember”, is coming out this week! If you’re glad I’m making music this is a chance to spend a little bit of money to make sure I keep it up. All you have to do is buy a physical copy of the album this week. In fact, I asked my label for a 10% discount on vinyl copies of the album for everyone on this email list, and they agreed. So please consider taking a second to help me keep it going.

Pre-Order Vinyl Edition w/ 10% Discount

just use the code “jonahsubstack” at checkout

Political organizing is the art of finding your people. I think many outside of the day-to-day grind of campaigning imagine that it’s about debate, persuasion, or compromise, but that’s not really where the work is. The real work of a campaign is to understand what you believe, become the best possible messenger of those values, and then find every single person who believes the same thing. If there are enough people in your voting zone who share those values, you’ve built a movement and you’ll get elected to represent that movement.

Overly simple? Maybe. But definitely not easy. Temptation is a powerful foe. The allure of debate can make anyone believe they can win over their opponents with the right proof, but we believe what we believe. The seduction of compromise can make you wonder if you should find the middle ground, the majority stance, but it will come at the cost of moral clarity, authenticity, and trust. The catharsis of conflict can tantalize anyone into demonizing those who disagree, but it will just make them fight harder.

No matter how difficult it may be to accept, a successful political campaign cannot be about winning. It must be about one thing and one thing only: connecting. Telling a personal story that can become a collective vision, and hoping for the best. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but in my opinion (obviously not the only opinion), it's the way to go.

When I returned to music in 2023, I began to see that this lesson applied to my career as a performer. Great musicians don’t begin by asking what people want to hear, by lurching towards the most popular trend, or by chastising those with different tastes. They begin with a perspective. This is the foundation, and it has led me to ask these questions of myself every day:

1. What music do I want to make?

2. Who wants to hear that music?

3. How can I do the best possible work as a musician, performer, and organizer to connect with those people.

This is my formula. It’s not the formula to win the most fans. It isn’t the path to make the most money, receive the most attention from critics, or have the broadest possible base of listeners. But I believe it is the most direct path to connecting. To finding my people. It’s how I found you, and that alone makes me sure I should keep on it.

Speaking of which, I’m about to leave on a month-long tour through Europe. Do you know people like us, people who want to hear this kind of music, in these cities? Will you help me spread the word? If you’re in one of these places, I hope I can look forward to seeing you. Here’s all the dates, with details here. Here’s an instagram post, if you want something to share.

I’ve been hearing from lots of you lately. I’m really grateful that you read these emails, and that we can stay connected. Thank you!

Talk soon,
Jonah

Do you ever get so worn out that you can’t fall asleep? That feeling that you need one last bit of energy, that you just don’t have, one last push, just to allow yourself to let go?

The third single from my album with Lau Nau is out today. It’s called Bus Driver. Crack it open, take a listen, and I’ll keep writing:

Weekends have always been hard for me. There are so many voices these days saying that we need to rest. They say to let go. They promise that my mind and body need to be cared for in order to operate at their best. It makes sense rationally, but how exactly do they go about this….resting?

The idea of letting go is pretty daunting. At least for me. There’s so much uncertainty. A sense of vague irresolution has infiltrated nearly every element of our reality. It makes me feel like there’s a lot of work to be done. More than is possible, but much too much to ever step back. The act of letting go would require considerably more energy than the sustained force of plowing forward.

Speaking of plowing forward, my other duo project, with Turkish drummer and sound designer Berke Can Özcan, will be on tour all over Europe next month. Show details here. Will you tell your friends? Will you come say hello? I hope so :)

I used to feel guilty about being tired. I still feel guilty about being tired. After all, just today, there are people in Gaza returning to the rubble of their neighborhoods after years of running and others in Chicago wondering if their homes will be attacked by helicopters filled with ICE agents coming to zip-tie their children. How could I be the one who is tired? The answer is that tiredness is an abundant and renewable resource. There’s plenty for everyone. We can all be tired and right now, I think we all are.

But back to rest. The elusive restorative force. I don’t think it's my first choice.

As I endeavor to know and maybe even accept myself, I have begun to understand that for me there is something else: restorative activity. When I am most exhausted, I’ve learned to choose from a list of engagements with myself and the world that are restorative for me in the same way that I imagine rest can be restorative for others. We’re all different, but maybe some of you have a list of restorative activities too. Here’s a selection of mine:

TEACH Nothing energizes me faster than showing someone something new and exploring the ways to understand and absorb it. I feel very lucky to be a teacher. It is inspiring, interesting, and challenging. I give it an 8 on the restorative scale.

WRITE I’ve been sending out a monthly email for about 3 years now. It started as a propaganda exercise, and I still spend a good amount of time promoting myself (as you can see above), but it’s also become a thought-organizing, self-processing, story-telling exercise that gives me more than it takes. I’m grateful to you for reading and engaging. You keep me on the path. I give this activity four energy stars.

PLAY Here I draw a distinction in a musical life. As a saxophonist I perform, I compose, I practice, and I play. Playing is the moment when objectivity disappears and music becomes about radical self acceptance, free from doubt, filled with curiosity, exceedingly fragile, but overwhelmingly powerful. It doesn’t happen every time I pick up my horn, but when it does, I am replenished in ways that make everything else worth it. An A+ restorative activity.

Ok, you get the idea. That’s a few. As you might imagine, I do lots of other things too. Some of them because I want to, some because I have to, some because it is what it means to be part of a community. These three are special because they are net positive on the energy scale. I feel lucky they are so connected to my work. On the other hand, that’s probably why I don’t make very much money. Anyway, I don’t think restorative activities need to be connected to work, or anything else specific. Do you have any?

Can you check out the new single? Oh, and also the tour dates.

Talk soon,
Jonah

As a musically inclined child coming of age in the late 90s and early 2000s I remember the Napster era quite well. In fact, I remember the first time one of my babysitters helped me download Napster to find my first track. Even as a 10 year old, it made me a little queasy. Hard to argue with a key to all music ever though. It was a morally challenging time.

When iTunes was launched in January 2001 I was super pumped. I still had access to basically all music on earth, but now I could also pay for it. It felt like a win-win to me. I was in balance.

Oh, speaking of paying, or not paying for music, the second single from my new album with Lau Nau, A Few We Remember, is out today. Will you take a listen? You can find it on bandcamp below, or if you prefer, stream it on your preferred platform here.

Ok, back to my nerdy love affair with iTunes.

All throughout high school, I lovingly curated my own library of Jazz classics, System of A Down albums, and the latest releases from Korn. I was eclectic. Every summer in Chicago, I worked in the Gallery 37 performing arts program, and then used the money to buy more music. It felt good.

Except…everyone around me kept telling me that my responsibility as a young musician was to listen to as much music as possible. To always study at least three versions of a Jazz standard before I claimed to know it. To choose to be prepared for every gig by listening to all of the music on repeat until I knew it by heart. The message was, not to explore, appreciate, or treasure music, but to consume it. To consume as much music as possible. It was getting very expensive. I held out for a while, but eventually I started raiding my friends’ hard drives. Everyone else was learning so much more than me. I had to keep up.

All to say, when spotify arrived in the United States in 2011, it felt almost impossible to find a musician who wasn’t immediately using it. I don’t think any musician ever felt good about the deal they were offering all of us, but everyone hopped on board as a consumer. After all, we needed it in order to be the best we could at our job. Right?

I’ve worked a handful of different jobs, some corporate, and in all of them there was at least some amount of pressure to abandon my values as an individual and do what was best for the company. Lately I’m realizing, I do the same thing all the time as a musician, for the sake of my own career. I held out for a bit, but eventually, by 2013, I got a spotify account just like everyone else so I could compete in the NYC freelance saxophone player economy. Is that ok? Is any tool on the table if it makes the work better? Even if it hurts people? I don’t like that very much.

Lately, there’s been somewhat of an artist exodus from spotify. I think the arguments in favor are strong and compelling. But I’m also wondering why they don’t apply to every streaming service. The truth is, streaming itself is probably an impossible business model to ethically execute in the recorded music industry. Even if tidal pays ten times more per stream than spotify, it is still averaging like $0.013 per stream. That means the payment for 1,000,000 streams per year puts a musician well below the poverty line (if they keep all of it, which they don’t).

I’ve decided to stop using streaming services to consume music and go back to paying for albums. When I need an individual song for work, I pay $1.29 and download it on iTunes (it still exists). I’m doing it for one reason, it doesn’t feel right to me that artists aren’t getting paid for their music, and I don’t want to use my own professional responsibilities as an excuse to do something that feels wrong to me. This is a decision I’m making as an individual with my artist community in mind. I don’t want to break my values for the sake of my job anymore.

Anyway, just some thoughts I’ve had recently. Try to remember I’m telling you a story, not giving you an instruction. I’m not here to lead (or patronize), I’m here to share. I love you no matter what you decide. If you have thoughts, I want to hear them. :)

Mostly, I want you to listen to my new single. Do you like it?

Talk soon,
Jonah

Big news! Apple just launched a new iPhone!!

Just kidding that’s a link to my new album. They did launch a new iPhone though.

Sorry. Couldn’t resist. That’s also a link to my new album. I’m the worst. Let’s just talk about the new album!

I’m very excited to share this new record made in collaboration with Lau Nau (Laura Naukkarinen), coming out on We Jazz Records on November 7 2025. You can listen and pre-order on Bandcamp right now. Or check it on your preferred streaming platform. The first single is out today.

I met Laura for the first time at Pioneer Works in Brooklyn in 2023. By the second time we met, at a concert with her band Kiri Ra! in Helsinki a few months later, I knew I wanted to make a record together.

More and more I’ve tried to avoid choosing my collaborators based on what instruments they play or where they live. After all, if it’s just about convenience or fulfilling a predetermined roll, I have lots of experience just playing by myself. Instead, I focus on the person. How it feels to talk to them. The ways they like to work. The instinct that if we combine forces, the result will be different than anything I could ever make on my own.

I like talking to Laura. You probably would too. She’s very cool. I feel lucky she wants to work together.

In a lot of ways this album is my first ever studio album. Laura lives in Finland and splits her time between the city and a cottage on an island in the southwest of the country. Last March, her and I spent a few days on the island recording “A Few We Remember”. It was a patient and inspiring time with lots of hot smoked salmon and brisk island walks. By the time we left for the ferry back to the mainland the record was done.

This album isn’t just an example of what our live set could sound like, or a documentation of a moment in time, it is a self-contained art object. It's its own thing, and I’m really proud of it. More than anything else, I want you to have it.

We made this for you. I hope you’ll listen.

I have lots more to share about the way the music on the album was composed, and the larger scale project it is part of, but for now, I just want to share the music itself. As it is. It’s own voice.

Oh and look at this beautiful Bandcamp special edition marbled vinyl.

Don’t you want to pre-order?

It’ll last longer than your new iPhone :)

More soon,

Jonah

Once at the end of a solo saxophone concert, a friendly musician approached me to say, “that was a really beautiful set of music, but definitely not experimental”. I think they were probably using the word experimental more as a verb than a genre, and in that sense, I think they were right.1 But experimental is also a genre, and in NYC, I would even say you could call it a scene. To that end, this musician’s offhanded comment returned me to a frequent subject of rumination, anxiety, and sometimes despair: when it comes to Jonah who is a musician, I don’t really belong.

Now, let’s not be too simple in our interpretation of the above statement.2 I’ve lived in Brooklyn for nearly 20 years, and over that time I’ve connected with dozens3 of lovely and engaging musicians. Some of us are old friends now. We play gigs together, I see them at shows, we get coffee, sometimes I record horns for their solo albums. Not to mention the handful of collaborations I’ve mentioned frequently, including my duo with Berke Can Özcan, which is playing at Festival Jazz Vic in Spain this Friday.

All to say, I’m not going for a loneliness discussion here.4 More like a reflection on finding the right seat in the cafeteria at lunch. Or, to put it another way: If you were to to tell me that when I woke up today, the universe had transformed into a place where all the musicians in New York had lunch together in one giant cafeteria and I had to pick a table, it would be the end of me.

It would be the end of me, because:

1. I’ve never felt like I deserved to be part of something.

   I was a white kid who grew up on the South Side of Chicago playing saxophone. I am an American uncomfortable with patriotism. I’m extroverted but I constantly choose to make things by myself. I am obsessed with the idea of building community with strangers, but almost incapable of caring for my longterm friendships. Intellectually, I know that nobody is as consistent as they may seem from the outside, but despite that, I resent myself for existing in a constant state of contradiction. I feel like an interloper. If I can’t commit to a way of being, why should anyone want me around? I opt out.

2. I’m not from where I’m from or where I ended up.

   When I first moved to New York City in 2006, from Chicago, I was determined to be a person from Chicago who lived in New York. In my young mind this meant taking NYC by storm with all of the fiery creativity Chicago had fostered in my little 18 year old mind. On my first night, I brought my saxophone to Lincoln Center for a Sonny Rollins concert. Just in case. Two decades later, I have no choice but to admit that my creative world has been shaped by New York, a place I’ve now lived longer than my 18 childhood years in Chicago. But somehow, my heart will not allow me to be a person from this city, even as I have felt my early roots in Chicago melt away from lack of seasonal renewal. I don’t call any city mine.

3. I have no direction for my fantasy of belonging.

   Since I’ve already committed to the high school cafeteria metaphor, let’s stick with it: I don’t have a dream clique. When I see a scene of talented and congenial musicians emerge from the NYC musician churn and solidify into a lattice of community, I sometimes panic. Not because I wish I was part of it, but rather because I resent myself for never having wanted it. It makes me wonder if there is something wrong with me. I can’t find it in me to want to be at the center of something, and I can’t stop imagining that I am supposed to.

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Anyway, these are not super organized or complete thoughts. Maybe this is all an anxiety induced spin-out. Perhaps it’s a rationalization meant to obscure intense jealousy. Or, more optimistically, it could be an exercise in self acceptance.

What do you think? Is it ok?

Talk soon,
Jonah

Last month, I had a really truly wonderful time touring in Finland. I’ve appeared in Finland various times in the dead of winter, and it was a pleasure to return, not at the moment of darkest culmination, but in the spring, at the time of light’s return. The mass of familiar faces, however, was what really fired me up. Nothing tops my self-fulfillment charts like showing up and finding a community of people I’ve seen before, ready to listen and connect all over again.

Thank you. Thank you for coming, and thank you for coming back.

While in Finland, I also recorded a new album in collaboration with Lau Nau, and it came out so well! I’m excited to share it with you. But I can’t yet. That’s just not how it works. Sorry. I linked to my album from last November, with Berke Can Özcan, instead (a little switcheroo).

Berke and I have a couple festival appearances coming up that I’m really looking forward to. First on the 16th of May in Vic (near Barcelona) for the Festival Jazz Vic and then in July at the Istanbul Jazz Festival. Stay tuned for more EU tour dates in November.

By the time I come home from Istanbul in July, I will have taken seven trips abroad since the election last November. It’s not the first time I’ve traveled a lot during an era where my home country has chosen the darkest of many dark paths. But this April, on the road in the EU, I experienced something totally unexpected. People were not mad, they were worried. Worried about me. Worried about us. Fearful of what this country is capable of doing to the people within its borders.

I’m fearful too.

If I had to choose one human quality to be the star at the top of my Christmas tree of things I wish I was really really effortlessly good at, it would be empathy. Empathy requires imagination and patience. It also requires selflessness and generosity. One of the lesser discussed ingredients for a strong sense of empathy is experience.

If you find yourself in a place similar to me, and this is the first time in your life that you are feeling genuinely fearful at home, in your own country, congratulations. Things have been pretty good so far. Let's, you and I, take a moment to feel grateful for the life we’ve lived. For many people, some who are neighbors, others living far away, fear is the baseline.

This experience of widespread fear is a chance to build the strongest possible empathy for those who were in danger last year, are in more danger now, will still be in danger in 2029. There is a longer fight than the one many of us are feeling acutely today, and this moment can be a spark for solidarity. Let’s use our fear to become more connected, more caring, more empathetic, more ready to decide that nobody should be afraid.

See you soon,
Jonah

I’m at the airport.

Traveling has always been part of my career fantasies. I find it embarrassingly romantic to imagine myself out in the world, with just my saxophone and a change of clothes, wandering from place to place. The reality is sweatier.

Getting on an airplane with a baritone saxophone is rarely easy. If you know me in real life, you’ve been forced to hear about it. Did you know I have a database of airplanes with pictures of my saxophone in the overhead? It’s my life’s work. That and figuring out how to be the first one on an airplane so that the overhead bins have room.

It was with that project in mind that, in 2011, I acquired my first United Airlines credit card. The card charged an annual fee of $100 a year, and in exchange I got to board in the coveted group 2 position, just after first class, the gold passengers (who fly a lot), the platinum passengers (who fly a lot more), the 1k passengers (who fly like it’s nothing), and the mysterious global services passengers (invitation only). No problem, they all flew first class anyway so I was the first one in the back. Success. Traveling was romantic again.

Sometime around 2018, after many years of dreaming and sending cold emails, I began touring in Europe a couple times a year. This was a dream I’d carried from my earliest days of commitment to the saxophone. I was elated. Also, I was flying enough to receive Silver status. I didn’t get much in return, but I was proud. Why was I proud? I didn’t really ask myself why I was proud, all I knew was that for the first time in my life, I was elite. Gold status soon followed, and with it: perks.

My favorite part of Gold status was access to the lounges. For those who have never been, the lounge is a room that is slightly cleaner than the rest of the airport with an automatic cappuccino machine and some snacks. It was glorious. So glorious that I became determined to be a permanent attendee. That was around when I upgraded to a more expensive United Airlines credit card.

I started flying out of Newark even though it was 2 hours from my house, sometimes even though it was more expensive, just to get the maximum status qualification points. I spent hours checking every opportunity to win extra points. I took advantage of every promotion. I drank so many automatic vending machine cappuccinos. One day, my wife asked why we had to suffer through a pilgrimage to Newark when JFK was a subway ride away. I responded confidently, that the quality of life at the Newark airport was better. Free coffee. She was not convinced. Although she was patient with my project, I found her objections unsettling. What was she missing? What was I missing?

The turning point came about a year ago when I discovered that for an often nominal fee, one of the more budget airlines (outside of my airline group) would allow me to buy a seat for my saxophone. The dream at the root of all dreams. Me and my horn, carefree, not too sweaty, strolling onto airplanes, and seeing the world. To my shock, my first thought was that I would lose access to the lounge with this ticket. Uh oh. They got me.

What is it about airline status that is so appealing? I have a theory. It is about positive feedback. What does it mean to succeed? In the version of the world that we share today, it often feels like people’s only measure of success is wealth. Not only that, there is never enough of it. Billions. It’s a short word that represents an impossibly long number. At the climax of this un-winnable race, enters airlines status. A pat on the back. A gentle word of encouragement, “keep running, you can’t see the front, but look how many people are behind you.” This is especially nice for a saxophone player who is never gonna make a lot of money. It’s shockingly easy to forget what race you are running. Even in the middle.

My race was supposed to be about picking up my saxophone and dropping myself anywhere it would take me, but then I forgot, and my race became about free coffee in a members only club at the airport. Good news though, I’m recommitting, and the truth is, sitting here at my gate without lounge access, getting ready to fly to Finland to play some music to people like you, my community, I think it’s possible that I’ve already won. Even if this race came with a $4 bag of m&ms from a Hudson News kiosk in terminal B at Newark Airport.

If you live in Finland, I hope I’ll see you next week!

19.3 • Digelius Music • Helsinki FI
20.3 • Bar Kuka • Turku FI
21.3 • Pethaus • Tampere FI
22.3 • Validi Karkia Kotikonsertti • Pori FI

My latest solo album, and the music I’ll play on tour, sounds like this.

See you out there,

Jonah

I gave you a nice long break in December and January but it’s time to get back to reading my emails. I’m afraid if you don’t, I might disappear.

I’ve been absorbing a lot of information recently that arrives in a frame like “the news is brutal, but…” or “in these dark times at least I have….”. I freely admit that in this moment of hopelessness - the special kind that comes from losing (not just elections, but lives & homes) when it feels so important to win - it can be tempting to try to look on the bright side. With that acknowledged, I offer this invitation: don’t.

Here’s what happens to me when I stop looking for a silver lining.

I am very sad. Usually I’m sad long enough to be afraid I will always be sad. As that sadness begins to settle into a certain kind of permanence, and I consider that it might always be there,

I start to notice a reservoir of energy building up. It turns out I burn a lot of my strength searching for a positive spin. With my newfound energy rising,

I ask myself, if the world is going to be like this until something momentous occurs, where do I want to fit into the work to make that momentous thing happen? From there,

I want to help. Choosing how to help is a pretty personal decision, and I fear we’re dancing on the edge of substack mission drift. After all, this substack isn’t called Jonah Volunteers for The School Board Project or Jonah Donates to IfNotNow. It’s called, Jonah is a Musician.

So let’s talk about music.

In March, I’m very much looking forward to my first non-December trip to Finland. I’ve got four solo concerts around the country, and before that I’ll be spending a couple days in the studio with Lau Nau, making a new album. I’ve chosen all of these venues because their aesthetics are rooted in community. All I need to complete that is you. So if you live in Helsinki, Turku, Tampere, or Pori, I hope you’ll think about coming. :)

March Solo Tour Dates
19.3 • Digelius Music • Helsinki FI
20.3 • Bar Kuka • Turku FI
21.3 • Pethaus • Tampere FI
22.3 • Validi Karkia Kotikonsertti • Pori FI

If you don’t remember what my solo music sounds like, its sounds like this.

By the way, there’s more to life as a musician than the sound of music. I kinda think this whole email is about being a musician, not just the part at the end. Do you? No? Email me!

See you out there,
Jonah

I offer you a series of expanding temporal cycles:

today

It Was Always Time, my new album with Berke Can Özcan, is out! You can listen on any platform or grab vinyl on bandcamp. It looks like vinyl stock is running low on Bandcamp, so if you want it, grab it! We Jazz Records is doing 15% off all purchases now through Sunday with code “HELLO11224”.

It takes so much time to prepare and roll out an album that sometimes it can feel like release day is the end. But it’s not. It’s the beginning. Berke and I are just getting started, and we are SO proud of this album. Your support means the world to us!

this week

During my late 20s and early 30s I split my time between music and working as a staffer at a leftist political action committee recruiting working class candidates to run for Congress. There are certain temporal periods that get hammered into you when you work on campaigns, and the most intense of them is GOTV (get out the vote) weekend. There’s a big election coming up on Tuesday. I feel it’s proximity.

I voted for Kamala Harris. Harris’s decision to define herself as a “proud gun owner” and lifelong prosecutor who accepts endorsements from people like Dick Cheney, ardently supports racist border policies, wants to expand drilling on American lands, and willfully commits to offering unlimited military aid to an Israeli government that is using that very aid to recklessly murder tens of thousands of civilians, has disturbed me. I believe Donald Trump is much worse in countless acutely important ways, so I chose. For me, that’s how it works.

I don’t believe in Kamala Harris, but I believe that a Democratic Party that welcomes Ilhan Omar, Summer Lee, Ayanna Presley, Rashida Tlaib, Delia Ramirez, Alexandria Ocasio Cortez, Bernie Sanders, and Elizabeth Warren, will at least attempt to hold her accountable. Nobody in the Republican Party wants to hold Donald Trump accountable. If Harris wins, I hope that she governs more responsibly and compassionately than she has campaigned, and if she loses, I hope her party learns a lesson about which voters hold the power to decide our future.

this month

Regardless of what happens on election day, at midnight on November 6, I am getting on a plane and flying to Istanbul to begin rehearsals for a show with Berke Can Özcan, Arve Henriksen, Ozan Tekin, & Ozan Kisaparmak at Borusan Müzik Evi on November 9. Following that, I will head to Finland for shows in Turku & Helsinki, and then to Italy for concerts in Rome, Perugia & Faenza. You can find details on my website or at the bottom. I’m really excited to play live around Europe with Berke and a bunch of other collaborators including Lau Nau!

When I get home, it will be mid-December, and 2024, a most difficult and painful year, will be at its close. I’m proud of the things I made, and haunted by everything else.

this life

In December 2022, I left my job as a political organizer in order to return to playing music full time. It was a hard decision. I am a decisive and engaged person, and the opportunity to take direct action to move the world in the direction I believed in was very meaningful for me. Having said that, at the close of my second year outside of the world of politics, one thing has become clear: we are trapped at a dead end caused by a false binary.

At first gasp, this may feel like a deeply pessimistic take, but I feel the opposite. There are those who define the fight for progress as a battle with two sides: good vs evil, forward vs backward, left vs right, Democrat vs Republican, democracy vs autocracy. At best they are wrong, at worst they are lying. Human civilization is in a constant state of transformative change, and with the help of radical art and experimental culture we are constantly being reminded that new ideas are exploding into existence at every moment. There is never a good reason to continue down the same path if that path is failing, and never a compelling reason to be forced to choose the opposite. Something else is always coming, not because it is ordained, rather because in a sea of spontaneous creation, something better is bound to emerge.

Exactly one year ago, I sent you an email entitled What’s The Point of Being A Musician where I wrote this:

We live in a world in which equality and justice do not exist. Although we use these words all the time, it is easy to forget that they describe things that we have, as of yet, refused to physically manifest for those who need them the most. Right now, equality & justice are purely hypothetical, and no matter how desperately we call out for them, they are not here for us to draw from in our moments of pain. In these moments, art is a reminder: we have everything we need to make something that has never existed before.

I’m not trying to say that art or music can change the world. I believe change comes when brave and courageous people form alignments that move powerful people to shift the trajectory of civilization. But in moments when injustice feels inevitable, music and art are essential because they reminds us that any one of us can make real change, true rebirth, and spontaneous creation using just the tools we already have in front of us.

We don’t have to settle for what we have. No matter who is President of the United States, we can create something better than anything that has ever existed.

tour dates

9 November • Borusan Müzik Evi • Istanbul TR • w/ Twin Rocks Band
27 November • Bar Kuka • Turku FI • Solo
29 November • We Jazz Festival • Helsinki FI • w/ Lau Nau
30 November • We Jazz Festival • Helsinki FI • w/ Berke Can Özcan
3 December • 30 Formiche • Rome IT • w/ Berke Can Özcan
4 December • Sacred Noise • Perugia IT • w/ Berke Can Özcan
5 December • Clan Destino • Faenza IT • w/ Berke Can Özcan

See you soon!
Jonah

Lot’s of exciting stuff today, so before I do my usual self assessment:

ONE:recorded

The third and final single from my upcoming album with Berke Can Özcan is out today. Stream it on bandcamp (or anywhere else) and pre-order vinyl!

TWO:live

My final show of the year in NYC is next week on Wednesday October 23rd at Three’s Brewing. It is a brand new duo of saxophonists with Nora Stanley. Madison Greenstone + Matthew Ryals are gonna play duo as well. Come! It’s your last chance to see me in NYC this year.

THREE:listening

We Jazz is hosting an online listening party through bandcamp for me and Berke’s new album on Sunday, October 27th. It’s free! We’ll get on together and chat (in writing) while we listen (in sound). If you live anywhere besides Italy, Istanbul, or Helsinki, this is your chance to celebrate the record with us, and you get to do it from home! RSVP here:

October 27th Bandcamp Listening Party

FOUR:self

I feel better in control. I often wonder why. I don’t normally feel very confident that I have the best plan. I do have a plan, I guess that’s something, but I don’t usually feel sure about it. So why the thirst for power?

I think control allows me to avoid being regularly faced with what I most fear, and what I most fear is myself. When I perform alone, I get to watch as the version of myself that I choose to present disappears into each listener and refracts, filtered through each of their experiences. Unrecognizable. They may feel something like joy, curiosity, confusion, or disgust, but it’s theirs. In that moment, my work is a recitation, not a conversation, and I am never truly forced to reckon with who I am in their eyes.

Playing with other musicians is different. With collaboration comes eye contact (yes I took an online quiz, I know), and in those eyes I see my own reflection. Collaboration is about working with other(s), but it is also about reckoning with the realities of how you are perceived by the people you care about.

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Am I being selfish? Is it possible that someone could actually care about making music with me as much as I care about making music with them? Is true equality a delusional fantasy? Of course, they aren’t asking these questions. I am. I don’t even really know how I’m being perceived. Maybe I’m the best? Who knows. Regardless, when I choose to let go of control and make music with someone else, I am always afraid. I don’t have much control over that.

It’s ok to be afraid. Sometimes it's even worth it, if the music is cool.

This year, I decided to be a collaborator. Not just once in a while, but with some consistency. Here are four different collaborative projects I began in earnest this year that are performing around the world over the next month or so:

1. A duo with saxophonist Nora Stanley that we’ve been working on for a few months is playing at Three’s Brewing in Brooklyn next Wednesday October 23rd.

2. Twin Rocks with Arve Henriksen, Ozan Tekin, Berke Can Özcan, and Ozan Kisaparmak is performing in Istanbul at Borusan Music House on November 9th.

3. A very fresh duo with Lau Nau (Laura Naukkarinen) is performing in Helsinki at We Jazz Festival on November 29th.

4. My duo with Berke Can Özcan, whose single I shared above, is playing November 30th at We Jazz Festival in Helsinki, December 3rd at 30Formiche in Rome, December 4th at Chiesa Santa Teresa in Perugia, and December 5th at Clan Destino in Faenza.

I’m nervous, but I’m sure as it get’s closer, I’ll be excited.

See you out there,
Jonah

This might sound crazy, but I believe that, in a perfect world, you would be able to listen to music for free. Oh wait! You CAN listen to music for free. In fact, you can listen to the 2nd single, released today, from my new duo album with Berke Can Özcan on like 12 different platforms including Bandcamp:

Sadly, I think we can all agree that the world is far from perfect. So what’s going on?

Well, to begin with, music is pretty much the only thing that you can get for free. Food, housing, healthcare, a sense of security, a life free from institutional violence, saxophone reeds. They all cost money. The result is what economists might call an imminent supply chain disruption.

Without raw materials like food and housing, the manufacturers of music (musicians) cannot exist. Now you may think that this is the moment where I pivot to saying that the solution is to pay for recorded music, but I actually have another solution in mind.

The crazy thing about music is that it doesn’t physically exist. You can’t hold a song. You can’t set it on fire, or hang it up in a museum.  Sure, there are recordings of music, but a music recording is basically like a framed photo of your best friend. You can look at whenever you want, it makes you happy, it looks just like them, but it’s not them.

Nevertheless, 100 years ago, people started calling musical recordings music, and then they started selling them. They made wax cylinders, tapes, cds, and digital downloads. They even made vinyl records into beautiful visual art objects that you can collect, look at, and enjoy. They did it for a good reason. They wanted a world filled with music.

The problem is, somewhere along the way, music recordings became a widget. Something made to sell. A commodity. People selling the widgets started getting rich, and then they started competing over who could offer more widgets for less money, and pretty soon, we hit the bottom. Now you can listen to basically every recording ever made for $0. Goal not achieved.

I think of music recordings a little bit differently. To me, an album is a gift. An object that I created as a deep and joyful expression of my gratitude. Something lovingly crafted in order to thank you for paying to make my work possible. When you buy my records you’re not paying for music, you’re paying for a musician. The record is just a memento. What you’re paying for is….me.

So here is my invitation to you:

Will you?

If a beautiful thank you present is up your alley, you can pre-order the vinyl version of “It Was Always Time”,  with striking artwork designed by Matti Nives. I hope when you receive it, you will feel how grateful I am that you helped pay to make my daily work possible.

Pre-Order "It Was Always Time" on Vinyl

For those of you who are not vinyl people, I’ve got something new. Starting today, you can sign up to be a paid subscriber to my Substack. I’ve set it up to cost $30/year, which is about the price of a record with shipping. You’ll still be able to listen to the new album for free on your favorite streaming services, but at the same time, you’ll know you’re paying for me, the musician to keep existing. I will be deeply grateful. If that sounds nice to you, you can do it right here:

Subscribe on Substack for $30/yr

Either way, if you find yourself receiving this email, it is probably because I met you at a show, which means you’re already part of the community of thousands of people who have paid to make my life as a musician possible. Thank you!

Here are some upcoming shows:

TONIGHT! (September 17) - Solo at Artifact Sound Series in Brooklyn NY
w/Tatsuya Nakatani & Kirin McElwain + Alex Koi Duo

October 8 - Duo with Berke Can Özcan at Nublu in New York NY
PLAYING THE NEW RECORD w/Adnata Ensemble & Jason Nazary Solo

October 23 - Duo with Nora Stanley at Three’s Brewing in Brooklyn NY
w/Madison Greenstone + Matthew Ryals Duo

November 9 - Twin Rocks Band at Borusan Music House in Istanbul TR
This band includes Berke Can Özcan and Arve Henriksen and is in the same sound world as our new record

November 29 - Duo with Lau Nau at We Jazz Festival in Helsinki FI
w/Superposition 1+2+3

November 30 - Duo with Berke Can Özcan at We Jazz Festival in Helsinki FI
PLAYING THE NEW RECORD

More soon!
Jonah

Today, for the first time ever, I am announcing a collaborative album with another musician. A gentle and generous soul named Berke Can Özcan who I encountered in Istanbul. The album is called, “It Was Always Time”, and it will be released by We Jazz Records this fall on digital and vinyl. You can pre-order and stream the first single right now.

Now let me tell you the story.

In January 2020, I was a very happy camper. I had a solo album coming on a label I was excited about, and I was following it up with dozens of tour dates all over the world including a major EU tour in April with festivals in The Netherlands, an eight city run in Italy, stops in Germany, and my debut in Istanbul. Of course all of it cascaded out of reach as the world stopped leaving home.

Re-booking post lock downs was somewhat demoralizing. My album was suddenly two years old, my primary booking agent had moved on, the festivals wanted new lineups, and I found myself starting from scratch. Again. On top of that, I was working full time as an electoral organizer, helping recruit and run insurgent candidates for congress. I wasn’t sure where my life was going or what role music would end up playing.

In a surprising turn, the promotor of my Istanbul show reached out to me, seemingly out of nowhere, to see if I wanted to come in April 2022. He offered me the same deal, and asked if I would be willing to play with a local musician, in order to build interest. I did the math, and concluded that with a full time campaign job, and no other European tour dates to roll in, I was in effect being offered a three day weekend in Istanbul with a 0% chance of making money. At first it felt simple, not a good idea. But my curiosity got the better of me, so without any real plan, I said yes.

There have been hopeless moments in my life. Times when I wanted to give up. Months when I became such a cynical witness to our tolerance of human agony that I became certain our collective problems were impossible to solve. Days when my fear of being responsible for other people’s suffering controlled me so deeply that I chose to shut my eyes to what was in front of me. Mornings when I woke up wondering how much longer I had to keep waking up. Curiosity was the antidote.

Apathy is the certainty that there is no solution. Cynicism is the conviction that people’s motivations are selfish. Hopelessness is the conclusion that things will never get better. Polarization is the confidence that there are only two sides. What if it’s not true? I’m never sure, and I’m too curious to ever stop asking. That is how I survive.

Perhaps, instead of saying my curiosity got the better of me, I should have said that the moment I agreed to go to Istanbul was the first time I felt like myself since January 2020. It was nice to see me again.

A quick google tells me I’m definitely not the only one.

Berke must have been at least a little bit curious too, right? Why else would he have agreed to play a show with me, having never met me. He’ll have to tell you for certain, but I think curiosity is what brought us together, and its a good thing, because we get along.

From the moment we began to play together, on that first night in Istanbul, it felt like it was always supposed to happen. I don’t feel that way very often. It was overwhelming. I think we both knew it was just the beginning, and now we have a record to share!! The music on “It Was Always Time” is joyful, explosive, unpredictable, and raw. I love it. Aren’t you curious to listen?

Listen Right Now!

More about the music soon. Here are some tour dates I’ve got coming up (look out for more):

September 17 - Solo at Artifact Sound Series in Brooklyn NY
w/Tatsuya Nakatani & Kirin McElwain + Alex Koi Duo

October 8 - Duo with Berke Can Özcan at Nublu in New York NY
PLAYING THE NEW RECORD w/Adnata Ensemble & Jason Nazary Solo

October 23 - Duo with Nora Stanley at Three’s Brewing in Brooklyn NY
w/Madison Greenstone + Matthew Ryals Duo

November 9 - Twin Rocks Band at Borusan Music House in Istanbul TR
This band includes Berke Can Özcan and Arve Henriksen and is in the same sound world as our new record

November 29 - Duo with Lau Nau at We Jazz Festival in Helsinki FI
w/Superposition 1+2+3

November 30 - Duo with Berke Can Özcan at We Jazz Festival in Helsinki FI
PLAYING THE NEW RECORD

Talk soon,
Jonah

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Before I say anything else, let me share that I’m playing a solo show at Nublu on Thursday August 29, in NYC. Playing in New York sometimes feels like inviting my friends to my birthday party and wondering if they’ll show up (scary). SO COME TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY….ah I mean, please attend my upcoming solo performance. Here are all the details.

Ok, rest of the email after this photo of me drinking Horchata in Spain last week.

Over the last decade, the music I make has been inspired by a search for the warmth of community, the patience of familiarity, and the clarity of immediacy. For me, these are the qualities that open up space to experiment and explore while keeping things grounded in connection and communication.

Element by element, I’ve examined what brings me closer to a listener and what stands between us, and I’ve learned that connection is more about context than content. It is not alienating to be challenged or surprised if that challenge comes in a welcoming environment that cultivates curiosity and encourages acceptance.

To put it another way: I’m an experimental musician that has spent a long time trying to create music that would help me connect with communities of people who wanted to listen, people who were curious and would write their email address in my phone if I passed it around (you did that remember?). Now that I know we’re all out here, I just want to hang out.

What if I just played at your house?

That’s it really. I want to come over, hang out, and share the music that I’m working on. Of course, there are other details to work out, but before we can talk about whether your house is shoes off, or how I can possibly make enough money to survive playing house concerts, I just want to know if you’d be into it.

So, are you into it? Don’t think too hard.

If you are curious, open, or even a little excited about the idea of hosting a solo saxophone concert at your house, you can fill out this form: https://jonahpj.com/host-a-house-concert. Then we can talk about it.

And we’ll take it from there. Together.

Talk soon,

Jonah

If you don’t, maybe it means you haven’t seen me in person for a while. If you live in NYC, you can solve this by coming to see me play solo baritone saxophone at Nublu 151 on August 29. Marked for Death is headlining and Anand Wilder (Yeasayer) is DJing. You can snag tickets here. It would be good to see you!

Anyway, I’ve been daydreaming a lot lately. When I was younger I tried very hard to know what my dreams were, but as I’ve gotten older, my mind is increasingly occupied by day to day tasks. I do know that my largest aspiration is still to succeed as a musician. But a couple weeks back, I suddenly remembered that the word succeed carries basically no inherent meaning unless you know what you are working towards. So I took some time to ask myself what I am chasing.

Some listening:

I know for sure that I’m chasing a feeling. I imagine myself riding a small boat down a rushing river. I don’t want to feel totally in control, but I want to know that I’m moving forward and that I have opportunities to use my skills to stay off the rocks. There’s something else though. Something that I am starting to realize I was expecting to leave behind when I finally made it into my little boat: doubt.

Somewhere over the years, I accidentally convinced myself that I would know I was successful when I stopped wondering whether I had succeeded. Oh no, a paradox. It seems I have been trapped by my own definition of success. This leaves me with two (I think) perfectly acceptable ways out:

1. Abandon the question of success and try to focus on being present in the day to day activities of my life.

2. Redefine what success means to me and admit that striving for a career without doubt is impossible.

What would you do? Am I overlooking another way out? Write me back!

Oh by the way, I also want to make a living. The song I embedded above is Find the Feeling, from my 2020 solo album, Imagine Giving Up. You can find it on vinyl, CD, and digital.

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Talk soon,

Jonah

In 2010, the band I was in started to do its first bouts of consistent touring. There were 12 of us, and we toured in 2 mini vans. We started with weekend runs all over New England and slowly widened our orbit until we were hitting the entire East Coast, Florida to Maine. It was my first experiences with real DIY touring. I loved it. At least, I remember loving it.

Wait, did someone say tour? I’ve got a little tour coming up! A southern solo sojourn. Philadelphia, Washington DC, Durham, Knoxville, and Asheville. Find info at the bottom.

Ok, back to it. Here’s a funny photo:

I don’t like sleeping on the floor, lugging gear around, wondering if people are going to come to my shows, or a whole host of other things I endure on the road. I do love playing music, and that helps A LOT, but nevertheless touring is hard. A few times a day, I want to go home. The secret is, in my deepest moments of exhaustion or frustration, when I pine for my own bed and my daily routine, I am filled with gratitude. I have a home that I love, and a daily routine that fulfills me. In that moment, I find balance.

Things that make me happy on tour: 

1. Feeling a spontaneous connection to people all over the world

2. Making creative music influenced by new experiences

3. Getting to travel with a sense of purpose

4. Passively riding in a vehicle and watching the world roll by

Things that make me want to go home: 

1. Everything else

The decision to seek balance by exploring the unknown while allowing it to help me appreciate what I already have, has become a guiding principle in my life. I think about it when I go out, when I feel myself getting older, when I’m around strangers, and when I connect with my family & friends. Going on tour is a wonderful reminder that this balance is not just a fantasy, it's something real we can all find and celebrate.

Ok tour dates as promised:

June 25 - Solar Myth in Philadelphia w/Whitney Johnson + Lia Kohl (Ars Nova Workshop)

June 26 - Rhizome in Washington DC w/Heather Stebbins & Hey 19

June 27 - The Pinhook in Durham w/Joe Westerlund + Nicole Mitchell

June 29 - The Pilot Light in Knoxville

June 30 - Static Age Records in Asheville w/Adam Lion & Damron + ffALO

August 29 - Nublu 151 in NYC w/Marked for Death

I’m really excited about these shows, and the musicians I’m going to get to share bills with along the way. If you live nearby, I would very much love to see you!!

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Talk soon,

Jonah

Is it getting old to put that question at the beginning? Not yet, I think. Speaking of things that will never get old, I love teaching music lessons.

One perennial piece of advice that I offer to my students is: Don’t try to get it right. This succinct imperative stems from an idea I began considering thanks to one of my Professors in college, Kenny Werner. He was the first to introduce me to the idea of practicing out of fear.

Being a musician is hard. And scary. I’ve spent a really long time trying to make it work, but what if it was all for nothing? What if I wasted my life? I worry. I worry enough that it is easy for me to allow my practice decisions to be motivated by the fear that I’m not good enough, or that it’s too late for me to succeed. Usually that means playing things I’m already good at to reassure myself, or desperately exerting myself to play something correctly in order to prove that I can. These are not very useful ways to spend my time.

Practicing has to start with a straightforward but terrifying admission: I can’t do this. Once there is space to observe a weakness, there is a chance to begin to understand and support it. That’s when the practice can actually start. This may sound easy, but in my experience it takes a lot of courage to admit you can’t do something. If I am feeling fearful (or insecure) when I meet a challenge, I will run towards the fastest solution. I will try to get it right. However, if I am willing to allow myself to fail, then there is suddenly space to observe how I’ve fallen short. Now, I can learn.

If this idea resonates with you, tell me about it! If not, send me an idea you like better. I’m sure my students would appreciate some new material.

A few updates:

Alrighty, thank you for reading. You are wonderful. Let’s keep in touch!

Talk soon,

Jonah

Before I dive in, a few quick notes. Let’s keep it interesting. How about you choose your own adventure?

Ok, I hope you had a good adventure.

In March, I played 14 shows in 11 cities across North America. I hesitate to call it an album release tour, because I’m gonna keep touring no matter what, but I was talking about the album a lot, so that’s what it was, I guess. It was really great.

When I’m on tour, it’s pretty common for someone from the venue or other bands to ask how the tour has been going. Usually there are a handful of great shows, some ok shows, and a few really tough ones. That’s experimental music. Or so I thought. This tour felt different.

A few days into my travels, I began to notice this strange sensation that I have basically never felt on tour in my life: satisfaction. At first, I started to worry this was a sign I wasn’t setting the bar high enough. I’m an anxious person, and I fear self-imposed mediocrity more than pretty much anything else, but a bit more reflection has led me to let go of that fear and draw another, nicer, conclusion.

As many of you can personally attest, this run of shows featured more familiar faces than any tour previous. Each and every night, a handful of you, people who I’d first met when they listened to me play and decided to put their email address in my phone, came over and said hello. For almost three weeks you reminded me what makes me happiest about experimental music, and it is the fact that we are a community. A community that comes back.

I don’t want to get overly optimistic, but I’m hopeful that the more we build together, and the more I see all of you over and over at shows across the world, the less strange this feeling of satisfaction will feel. If that does happen, it will be a powerful testament to the generosity, empathy, curiosity, and warmth you all regularly bring with you when you come out to shows in your town. Shows like mine, but surely not just mine.

You are building something really special and I am very grateful.

See you soon,

Jonah

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