Lebanon-based musician Grave Jones’ style is the perfect combination of rock and pop, with influences of 80’s and 90’s rock he grew up listening to. He’s using his music to channel a lifetime of hurt and frustration for a country that the artist loves so much but sees falling into disrepair.
Read our interview with Grave Jones about his upcoming album and his home country Lebanon below.
KALTBLUT: Hey Grave Jones, thank you so much for taking the time to do this interview.
Grave Jones: Thank you for having me, I’m happy to be doing this.
KALTBLUT: You’ve previously talked about the backstory of your latest single “Heaven Only Knows”, and how you had to go to your work and rush home to safety due to the protests around the devastating explosion in Beirut, Lebanon last year. How does it make you feel listening or performing the song now? Do you associate the single with the events of that day?
Grave Jones: The backstory is I was on my way to the studio for a mixing session of “Heaven Only Knows” when a mini-civil war broke out, a little reenactment of the 70s, and of course we had to cancel everything, try not to get hit by a bullet, and head home. Looking back at the song today, I do not associate it with that specific afternoon at all actually, and not for good reasons, mind you. I know that from the outside, this looks like it should have been a traumatic experience, but sadly in Lebanon, we’re pretty used to it. When I told that story before, it was in the context of explaining and giving examples of how it’s becoming increasingly difficult to get any work done in the country, rather than describing a day that would scar me forever. Don’t get me wrong, in any normal, functioning place, this should have been a traumatic experience, so I do understand why you would ask me that. But the sad reality is that for us, this kind of violence is not only in our DNA, it’s also increasingly becoming a despicable routine at which we roll our eyes and go “okay, here we go again. Stay safe everyone.”
Don’t get me wrong, in any normal, functioning place, this should have been a traumatic experience, so I do understand why you would ask me that. But the sad reality is that for us, this kind of violence is not only in our DNA, it’s also increasingly becoming a despicable routine at which we roll our eyes and go “okay, here we go again. Stay safe everyone.”
KALTBLUT: Do you feel making music is your way of protesting?
Grave Jones: In an indirect way, I guess it is. I’m not an activist. I barely have the will to fix myself, let alone a whole country, so I’m really not a socio-political artist or anything. However, I did choose to stay in Beirut in spite of the country’s never-ending descent into hell, in spite of the majority of my friends leaving, and in spite of daily life here becoming increasingly inhospitable. Is this a way of protesting? Maybe. It’s either that or it’s pure madness, denial, delusion, I don’t know what else to call it. But there’s definitely a defiant voice inside my head that keeps repeating: “I will not let them kick me out of my home.” Making music is probably just another layer of that voice because it’s basically me trying to preserve a semblance of normalcy in a place where nothing is normal anymore, and where art and music is the last thing on anyone’s mind. I never looked at it as a conscious way of protesting before your question, but now that you did mention it, we could say that in its own way it is.
KALTBLUT: You’re also releasing an album soon. What will the mood of the album be like? Will it be similar to “Heaven Only Knows”?
Grave Jones: The album is called “Heartrage Hotel,” and the two singles “Smithereens”, and “Heaven Only Knows” that are already out are definitely a good preview of what’s to come. It’s a rock record, but the codes and sounds are a bit different than what you’d expect because it also incorporates elements from my venture into the electronic pop world with my previous band Slutterhouse. The album is driven by rage, heartbreak, longing, melancholy, nostalgia, helplessness. There’s a big familiar feel because I’m someone who’s interested in catchy melodies and pop structures, but there are also a lot of surprising elements that you wouldn’t always expect to see together. On “Heaven Only Knows” for example, there’s a Britpop-ish verse, an Ozzy Osbourne meets disco drum pattern pre-chorus, growling on the chorus, and a guitar solo – all held together in a straight-forward, catchy pop-rock tune. Expect more of that on the record, maybe a little more aggression on a couple of songs, and definitely a ballad or two in the mix.
KALTBLUT: Who are your biggest influences?
Grave Jones: As a guitar player, I basically learned how to play when I was a young teenager by mimicking Slash, Joe Perry and Mick Mars notes per note. As a singer, I grew up looking up to Axl Rose and Steven Tyler mostly, but later, when I found my voice, I picked up a lot of tricks and inspiration from singers whom I felt sounded closer to me like Billy Corgan, Brian Molko, Dave Gahan and Ozzy Osbourne. Another singer I learned a lot from is Mike Patton. When it comes to synthesisers and electronic work in general, I am a big fan of Depeche Mode, Duran Duran, Daft Punk and Air. Also, Tommy Lee’s drumming has definitely had a big influence on the way I write and record drum parts. All in all, I can’t say that I have any kind of specific influence in mind when I sit down to write and record music. Grave Jones is the result of the hard rock n’ roll and metal I grew up listening to, my deep dive into the electronic pop world in my mid-20s, and a myriad of other genres that I’ve discovered and loved along the way. It’s a perfect summary of all the music I’ve subconsciously absorbed from a very wide spectrum of the musical horizon.
Of course, I would love to be living in a place where my biggest worry is the bus being two minutes late, or the ice cream kiosk at the park in my neighbourhood closing unexpectedly early, but the drive to keep going is not a choice, it’s just the cards we are dealt at the moment…
KALTBLUT: You’ve talked about how hard it is to finish your music because of the constant electricity cuts, fuel shortages, etc. How do you keep the drive to keep going?
Grave Jones: What else am I supposed to do? It’s either that or I stay in bed and sulk all day. I’ve been there before and I’m not going back to that space. I’m fortunate enough to have my own recording studio, and because I also happen to play all the instruments I need to make my records, I feel very blessed to have that sort of independence that allows me to wake up each day and invest my time and energy in the things that give me meaning and pleasure, like writing and making music. I’m not saying it’s easy, but I’m also not letting the system win. Fuel shortages? No problem, I won’t leave the house then, and I’ll make more music. Electricity cuts? Fine, I’ll spare a couple of trips and invest in solar panels and become even more independent. Of course, I would love to be living in a place where my biggest worry is the bus being two minutes late, or the ice cream kiosk at the park in my neighbourhood closing unexpectedly early, but the drive to keep going is not a choice, it’s just the cards we are dealt at the moment, and each person keeps going in their own way, with their own means, in the direction that makes the most sense to them. I’m not different from anyone else.
KALTBLUT: Can you tell me a little bit about the creative scene in Lebanon now?
Grave Jones: It’s a tricky time. We’re very far from the creative boom we’ve witnessed after the civil war and that really peaked sometime between 2005 and 2018. Around half a million people have left the country in the last two years. We’re going through the biggest wave of migration since the civil war. Most creatives are gone, of course, because who has the time and energy to create anything when you’re solely focused on solving very basic problems every day, like getting fuel or electricity, finding alternative ways to make money now that the country’s bankrupt, or trying not to be accidentally killed by a bomb or some shooting. I always say that art could have only been born out of boredom. Our first prehistoric ancestor who decided to draw on the walls of the cave could only do so because everyone else was outside hunting and gathering while he just sat there with nothing else to do. When you’re concerned with survival, it’s almost impossible to find the space or the energy to create.
On the other hand, a lot of creatives did stick around. Some by choice, others by necessity. The output is expectedly lower than it used to be because, once again, everyone’s struggling, but it’s there, it’s definitely still there. Also, those who have left did not completely disappear. They’re still out there, working from abroad, freelancing for a client overseas, or collaborating with someone on a project in another country, but their heart is still in Beirut, they still visit whenever they can, and you can be sure that they’ll all come back to settle here the moment they feel they have something sustainable to hang on to.
Plus, we live in a time when the whole world is connected, online. Geographical locations have become secondary. Lebanese artists continue to create, thrive and share their work, wherever part of the world they may be. This is all temporary because deep down we all know that we’ll meet again in Beirut, at home, sometime in the future. And the revival will be beautiful.
Socials
Instagram: @iamgravejones
Twitter: @iamgravejones
Cover photo by @nehmewalid
