music teaches me how to hope

weekly dispatch #4 ✶ my first official set, pre-show spiraling, and the healing force of the universe

Nov 24, 2024

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november 24th, 2024 — los angeles, ca

Being a musician is, in so many ways, about anticipation. It’s counting down to one night weeks in advance, practicing until your setlist feels like second nature, and imagining all the ways it could flounder.

It’s feeling that familiar pang of doubt and showing up anyway, ready to give your heart to whoever’s there to hear it, doing the damn thing, packing up, heading home, and already dreaming of what’s next.

If I can frame this in a softer way, I think a large part of being a musician is learning how to hold on to hope, even through disappointments. How to hold your expectations lightly and then let them go.

It’s an ongoing lesson in patience, delayed gratification, and letting yourself feel a little pride, even when self-doubt lingers.

It’s accepting that you’ll never have it all figured out—but if you can be present, feel the energy in the room, and the warmth of the people in front of you, even for a moment, then you’ve got it made.

My debut show in LA reminded me all of this and then some. After gigging in various projects for over a decade, it feels both silly and exciting to establish myself as a “new” artist yet again, but here we are. A Jonie is born! She is alive and hopeful and inspired!

The week kicked off with a sweet backyard house show in Santa Barbara. Santa Barbara has been a home-away-from-home for nearly eight years now, ever since I met Cecilia James on the Internet (as all great modern friendships begin).

Every visit, I’m stunned by how ridiculously beautiful the city is. How can everything be so gorgeous? How are their dumpsters mint green?

That night, Cecilia played a duo set with Adam, who, in true Adam fashion, figured out her songs on pedal steel as they went. Frail Talk followed, playing with Tobias for the first time in a few weeks and effortlessly settling back into their dynamic as a trio. It felt so good to play for such a sweet audience, lit by candles and the half-moon overhead.

The next morning, I woke up gripped by anxiety. My brain was running through the setlist on a loop, rearranging it over and over, trying to make it feel right.

This is my ritual: the pre-show spiral. First comes the version where I convince myself that none of it matters in the worst possible way—that no one cares, that it’s silly to even try, that all this effort is for naught.

Then, without fail, I reach a point of no fucks to give that I hard-pivot to believing that none of it matters in a way that sets me free—that music is good for the soul, no matter the audience, the setting, or the stakes. By the time load-in and soundcheck rolled around, I’d found my way there.

I was ready to play for my friends who hadn’t yet seen this part of me—a part that feels so present but hasn’t had much space to stretch out as of late. I told myself that even if only a handful of pals showed up, I’d be overjoyed.

But then, nearly everyone came. Nearly every person I’d met in my four months in LA was there, sitting in the audience, showing up on a Wednesday night in Pasadena. I felt so lucky. So loved. Every single person who came reminded me that if I’m brave enough to share, someone will be kind enough to listen.

Alexander Biggs, who I was lucky enough to have play bass in my band, opened the night with the most beautiful set. His song “Macaroni Necklace” absolutely floored me. Then Frail Talk took the stage and, as always, charmed the socks off everyone in the room. Their newer, unreleased song, “Decompose,” hit hard.

Sharing a night like this with them felt so right. My last show in Fort Collins—and my final show as Spinster—was with them back in May. To be here again, in my favorite venue in LA, surrounded by friends, sharing songs that feel so vulnerable and life-giving, felt impossibly full-circle.

Now the house is quiet, and all the guests have left. It feels especially empty without Tobias, who stayed with us for the past two weeks. Home feels a little less like home without him, and Pepper, Adam, and I are already missing his sunny self.

Naturally, I came down with a cold the day after the show. I suppose my body had been holding out, waiting until everything important was behind me before giving into the exhaustion. After a week that full, sometimes the only thing left to do is collapse into stillness. And ain’t that just the way?

The dishes will get done. The floors will be swept. The guitar will be played. The songs will come together, and the friends will come and go. We’ll get little glimpses of purpose, and in between, we’ll wonder if any of it matters. And sometimes the wondering will feel too big, but we’ll wake up the next morning, look around at all we’ve built, and get to work again.

— Jo

🎥 live footage

Some little videos of my set at Healing Force of the Universe courtesy of my sweet friends Zelma and Imani. Clips include bits of “Better at This” and “Periphery”.

this week’s roundup of things to come, fun facts, personal recommendations, and more.

👋 upcoming

✶ I’m looking to play another show in LA in February, March, or April if anyone’s looking to set up a bill. Hit my line. 🤠

☝ did you know…

In some rare cases, identical “mirror” twins have a condition known as situs inversus, which causes their internal organs to be arranged on opposite sides of their body. The liver on one twin, for example, would be in its usual place — in the upper right side of the abdomen — while the liver in the other twin would be on the left. Neat!

🎧 song of the week

This unreleased song by Quinnie (starts at 3:50)
I saw her perform this live on her tour last fall and again when I caught her in LA a couple of weeks ago. Truly one of my favorite songs, and I anxiously await its official release. Quinnie 4ever.

📚 recommended reading

✶ Are You My Mommy? by Eliza McLamb
A banger on infantilizing media that I liked very, very much.

Can you tell me if that book was worth reading? If it was problematic? If I would like it very, very much? If it would upset me? Can you can cut up this large bite of food for me? Could you feed me with a bottle?

✨🍲✨ zero effort soup

Everyone I know (including myself) has a cold. The only thing I can fathom eating consists of hot liquid and nutrients from vegetables. Last night, I threw together the following in less than 30 minutes, and I think it’s healing me from the inside out. Get a big pot, chop up your vegetables, and throw it all in til the veggies are soft. Add a bunch of salt, red pepper flakes, dill weed, and avocado on top—if you can muster it.