From The Desk Of Stone Jack Jones: The Joy Of A Mask

By the time he reached 55, Stone Jack Jones had spent a lifetime as a carnie, ballet dancer, lute player and hundreds of other things, trying his luck from Buffalo Creek to Charleston to Boston to New York to Fort Worth to Atlanta to Nashville. Mostly, he made music—even if it was just playing on the street or at a nearly empty open mic. Then in 2003, he met Roger Moutenot, who’d engineered albums for They Might Be Giants and Yo La Tengo. And all of a sudden, something happened. Jones’ third album, Ancestor, is out now via Western Vinyl. He will also be guest editing all week. Read our new feature on him.


Jones: the merriment. or the terror. what hides behind it? i once made love to a woman in a mask and it was my girlfriend, but I did not know that. it was entrapment on her part. a merry trickster who got really mad. i told her, of course, I knew it was her. of course. the mystery of it all. someone looks at you and you are wearing a mask. is it you they see? no. you are there but hidden. a sly sliver of your personality gets gigantically exploded and you are not there but you are there. inside like the puppeteer pulling strings. you are engulfed in not having to be you.