As we grow older in our lives, those involved with music give up dreams of making it a livelihood. But why? While large sums of money make it worthwhile for the few that are fortunate to reach that level of success there are those who tour in indie bands and play basements and small clubs for years. They live on the road with their band mates, encased in a swath of fetid sweat and living out of a van or bus. Many swear they will never sell out or give in. And a few of them don’t. But many of them segue into what most call “real life.” Some wear suits or buy a house in the suburbs, ending up the very opposite of what they swore they would never become. Many still stay engaged with music or the arts in one form or another. Some do both. There’s nothing wrong with any of those options. We all change our minds on many things we swore we never would. We transform as individuals.
I used to be involved quite heavily in music: I ran a record label, booked shows, managed bands, ran an online magazine, put out a music fanzine, worked for a music distributor and a couple of record labels and was a consummate fan of punk, indie, metal, hardcore and many other “alternative” genres. I still write music, book and zine reviews for a fanzine, Razorcake, as well as make music podcasts for them. I sometimes think I love music more than ever. I get excited finding new music even though it’s not through scouring CD bins at record stores or taking a chance on buying an album mentioned in an interview with a band I like. I don’t know if I consider myself a punk anymore but the ethical and moral ideas I learned from DIY and punk rock culture have certainly played a large part in my development. However, I no longer go to many concerts (which is more a product of my lack of a car) and don’t care about getting in arguments with people about what defines punk or emo or anything of that sort.
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As a naturally curious individual and someone who is growing and changing as I emerge from my twenties into my early thirties, I wonder, “What happened to some of these bands I used to listen to and see in basements and VFW halls? Where are some of those individuals now and how did they get there?” So I thought I would make a semi-regular feature of this blog my attempt to track down some members of these bands and ask them what they’re up to and how they got there. I also thought I’d write a little about their music and why I enjoy it.
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Jonathon Newby was formerly the singer for the band Brazil. Based out of Muncie, Indiana, they were a band from approximately 2000 until 2007 and toured all over the United States and Canada. They released two full-length albums, A Hostage and the Meaning Of Life (Fearless) and The Philosophy of Velocity (Immortal). Although many would say it is hard to separate one’s opinion of a band when you know members of the band (I’ve known Newby since approximately 1999), I found Brazil’s music and lyrics to be both creative and intelligent. While their original sound was post-hardcore and drew comparisons to At The Drive-In, with later material one could hear influences such as Pink Floyd, Bowie and Queen, although their punk and hardcore roots were fairly evident as well. The addition of keyboards to the typical rock band line-up caused them to stick apart from many of their peers. Brazil always had a lot of energy at their shows and at some point in their career started dressing in classy, steampunk-esque gear. By the time they got to their posthumous EP, Ere I Am J.H. (self-released), almost all semblances of the original sound of the band were gone. A song sung entirely in Japanese, lounge-influenced versions of original material, an atmospheric, airy number and a few other unique tunes rounded out the band’s career. I went on tour with them in 2005 for a few weeks and wrote about it in issue #3 of Welcome to Flavor Country.
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Where do you currently live?
I live in Yorktown, IN, the boyhood home of Ted Haggard.
What do you do to pay the bills?
I’m a graphic designer, currently working for a software company (as a User Experience Designer) but I also take on freelance projects.
Are you still involved with music in any way (work for a label, play in a band, do press for a band, book shows, etc.) or any of the other arts (performing, visual, literary)?
Yes, but very privately at the moment.
I’m building the infrastructure for a production company (I guess is what you’d call it). It’s comprised of a label-esque entity (Young Tobacco), a studio (White Oak), a music publishing company (Oleta Publishing Company) and a design agency (Silverteeth).
This is all pretty much so I can create and release anything I want, whenever I want, exactly the way I want. Everything feeds into Young Tobacco (YT), which is my portal for releasing things to the world.
I’m pretty excited about it, because I see Young Tobacco as a giant empty container for me to fill in the coming decades. I recorded a solo EP last year as J. Christ that I’m sitting on and I’m writing another one under that moniker that I plan to also put in the chamber. Plus I started a blog right after the band broke up to document all the shows we played, which has somehow turned into this giant confessional, meta-novel about my life in general that I intend to publish via YT.
Plus other musical side projects I always have simmering, cassette releases, artwork collections, etc. I might also release some Brazil stuff on vinyl if I am allowed to. Everything will be in limited collector’s quantities.
At what point did you decide to “give up” and why? Was there a sudden realization that you wanted to live in the “real world” or was it gradual?
I don’t think I ever “gave up” in the broad sense. I really only quit Brazil, but my brain has never stopped working. I’m an insanely high-functioning individual and it’s really hard for me to relax because something is always churning in my head, for better or worse.
I don’t feel like I ever crossed some sort of demilitarized zone into The Real World. I have accepted more responsibilities because of my son, sure, but I’m still the same quixote I’ve always been, and will die being.
Are you content with not living the “rock and roll” lifestyle of your past or do you miss it?
I’m content with not sleeping on couches for nine months out of the year, and I’m content on not getting into fights with record labels over how a record should sound, and I’m content to not make 600 group decisions daily.
I’m also content being able to buy healthy food, nice things for my small house and stuff for my son to play with and learn from. I do miss traveling and seeing new things, and that rush when one of your idols (or way more successful contemporaries) takes your phone call or buys your t-shirt or comments on your record. Or when your friends text you to say they heard your music on Road Rules or Fuse. Drink tickets and free meals didn’t suck, either.
I’d like to get back into traveling more, but under a different set of circumstances than before.
Do you feel as though you can still relate to the person you were when you were in a band and touring? Why or why not?
On one hand, I can because I’ve always been so focused. Brazil was not an accident, we worked very hard and I continue that work ethic to this day.
On the other hand, I did go through a major identity check (and a few personal crises) right around the same time as my departure from Brazil. I went through some things that had a profound effect on my outlook and view of relationships in general. Kind of a mental suicide in a lot of ways.
In that regard I am definitely quite a different person, which sometimes makes it hard to be around friends and family who are sometimes still stuck in the same habits.
It’s long and complicated and I use my blog to sort it out.
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
