Review: J.P. Jones

Life's been complicated for ol' JP. His muses are dark visions, sombre voices and powerful emotions that inhabit a sere world of spirituality and inner space. Eclectic influences as diverse as Dylan and Greg Brown are audible. With a career that had been on the back burner following notable gigs at NYC's CBGBs and Folk City, he moved to Rhode Island and continued his songwriting despite a dearth of commercial success. Forming a private label, he has no problem releasing his material now. His music creates whole worlds and his raspy voice can fill the "aching for something sacred." Frequently when listening, I feel Chris Smither and that is especially true of "Black and Blue" where 'everything around me looks more or less normal" —a cue for trouble. A Springsteen-like pathos fills "Sandy." Jones would buy you a crown of thorns if he knew your hat size and he creates songs of world-weary grace and beauty. The vision is dark and diaphanous with disappointment, failed love, put off dreams and atmospherically brilliant evocation. He's a staccato stiletto to your heart.—Mark Gresser