The Story:

I had left San Diego and was living back in my hometown of Los Angeles. It was the nineties and Beverly Hills 90210 sideburns were gradually stretching down the side of my face. I went from that garage to a dorm room closet studio at the University of Southern California. It was here that demos were made with a new musical colleague and student named Brandon Walker. He was soon to graduate and had similar musical aspirations to my own. Eventually we had a big batch of recordings that were put on tape and passed around. Collectively, we decided that solo Scott would be better served as a band. Even then, I can remember being indifferent to this idea but I did not want to sacrifice the musical partnership. I needed to collaborate at this point in my musical development. Eventually, musicians were added and a full band line-up began to play the L.A. clubs. This would be named “To The Sky”. None of us were thrilled with the title but hey, Dennis Rodman liked it. Indeed, Loren Hesz, the drummer, riding an elevator with the frequently benched basketball star, got the response, “To The Sky, cool” in reaction to the name. Strange sideline, yes. Pun intended, no. This incarnation of my (our) music attracted the attention of some interesting characters. We eventually signed a management deal with a lovely fellow named Denny Seiwell (not exactly Colonel Parker). If the name sounds familiar, and speaking of drummers, he was the original one for Paul McCartney and Wings. Now being that The Beatles were number 1 for me, of course this was a tempting offer, if not a surreal proposition. We did eventually work with Denny but it was not a great match. In all seriousness, a terrific guy, just not a good business marriage. This period would end with the expiration of that management contract and the development of a certain song…

“ON”. I would say this tune was the beginning of a more distinctive era for the band. Before, we were searching. Something had been found with the aptly titled “ON”. A new name for the outfit was to follow: “SOMETHING IRIS”. Eventually, we were playing to larger crowds and the record labels began to come to the shows. This all culminated with the interest of Island Records and the attendance of label boss Chris Blackwell at a showcase at L.A.’s then Martini Lounge. The buzz was now escalating. Soon, many producers and executives flanked to small clubs to see this band that I was fronting in 1970’s inspired retro outfits. Even Marilyn Manson came to a gig but was too late to see the show. We shook hands when introduced and in his low voice he just said “Marilyn”. I guess people were talking but my instincts kept tapping my shoulder to the effect that something was not quite in step. It was not to happen this way. Blackwell passed on the band but when the smoke cleared, one man was left standing. His name was Duane Barron. He was a producer who had recently worked with Ozzie Osbourne. He wanted to produce our songs and I was reluctant. How would a hard rock producer make us sound? We did not see ourselves this way. Disappointed by Island passing on the band and without the help of a label, we made our record on spec. A beautiful studio called Andora was the setting. We were excited and tempted by the luxurious atmosphere of a professional recording studio. We were to make a first class recording and this was the collective perception. The record went into production with Duane at the helm. Label people would come in and out of the studio to hear what we were doing. We chose to let people in during the process. A new manager was in place. He had been a friend of mine since college and he was quite business savvy. His name was Glenn Feig. I seemed to act as a buffer between him and other interested parties (producer/studio owner/my pop the attorney) to get papers signed. It eventually got done. The record got made and for the most part, we were all happy with the result.

Shopping the finished product would be the next undertaking. Eventually, we settled upon a small label that bought the master from the studio and did what they could. Not much happened unfortunately and the band began to feel the effects of a series of disappointing events. The musical document, SOMETHING IRIS remains. This was a heartbreaking period. The band that I had identified myself with so strongly was beginning to splinter.

One guiding light still burning was a solo recording I made during down time from the Something Iris sessions. I guess this exercise was an expression of a side to my music that had less presence within Something Iris. This was good, for it gave me a bases of hope that maybe I could find artistic fulfillment without the band, if need be. I really wanted us to stay together but I also was done fighting to keep it going. Little did I know this was just the beginning of my writing and performing life.

The resulting “INSTINCT ON AVENUE” was a sort of rebellion or rather the other side of the balance beam that kept me from going insane. A collection of demos never originally intended as an album, it was recorded on rented equipment at home. Then taken into the studio where Something Iris’s record was born, it was mixed on a fine Neve console by engineer Tony Rambo. The result was a very raw recording sonically captured in wide spectrum. Instinct On Avenue was reflecting change both interpersonally and musically. The record was that rough transition. Themes of loss and rebirth, lost love and big decisions. The songs came into being during the breakup of a long term relationship with a girlfriend. She was moving away to San Francisco. We loaded up a U-Haul truck and I helped her move away. I stayed with her for the last time in her new apartment in this city and when I drove back home alone and looked over the grapevine, the opening song Engagement was incubating. Was I leaving this behind? Why was I? That time spent in San Francisco was euphoric. Perhaps because it was final, it was very immediate and passionate. Was that trip a symbolic Writ of Passage? Something Iris was still a band. Our days were numbered.

Shortly following, Something Iris naturally ran its course. In January of 1999, the band was over. The next solo album, THE THEORY OF was being written. Now here I was a solo artist. Not yet secure in my solo boots but excited at the unlimited and unchecked possibilities, I began to think about how I wanted to make this album. Shortly before, I had created an imprint called Bergmusic Company. What started as a drawing on a napkin became the logo for this small label that would release these musical snapshots. Unlike INSTINCT, I wanted to expand on the acoustic sound but maintain the confessional spirit of that record. After attending a concert by artist Aimee Mann in LA, I approached her keyboard player Patrick Warren who I was so musically impressed with. His musicianship was something I really wanted to hear applied to my music. After a meeting at his house, he agreed to help out with the recording. Patrick had recording most of the keyboard work on Fiona Apple’s debut Tidal. This was an album I enjoyed very much. He had done fantastic recorded work with Michael Penn and Aimee as well. Even the Red Hot Chili Peppers producer Rick Rubin had called him into the studio during our sessions to record Chamberlain Organ for one of their songs. I felt validated that he liked my music and wanted to be a part of the record. Partially recorded at his home on analogue equipment and mixed once again by Tony Rambo, the record was finished. The enthusiasm of musicians I respected such as Patrick and THE THEORY OF bass player Justin Meldal-Johnsen was definitely a huge boost to my confidence. However, there was another piece to the puzzle unfolding simultaneously.

My mother had passed away when I was fourteen years old. Just like my first idols, Lennon and McCartney, I had lost my maternal figure at this age. She was always very supportive when she saw that I had musical ability. Tried to get me to take guitar lessons when I was eight though I did not want any part of it then. She was an artist and liked to sing. In an otherwise conservative household and extended family of lawyers, doctors, and businessmen, she knew and accepted that I was a different breed. This fact became even more apparent in her absence. I was left with good memories. A dream about her one night seemed almost too real. As I struck out to make THE THEORY OF, I was still questioning my ability to go it alone. In this dream, my mother was a recording star and much a figure like Joni Mitchell. I was driving with my father and we were listening to her new CD (in the dream). The music was strange and the songs unstructured. I can remember studying the albums sleeve and seeing her face as it would appear in the present had she lived. The song titles and credits were vivid in my memory upon waking. I wrote it all down and let it settle in my mind. Soon I found myself clued into something from this. Without too much detail, let’s just say it seemed to give me the clarity and vision to see that I was in the right place. This was the way to be. The theme and titles of this record were derived from the dream. The name of the title track, “The Theory Of J. Paul Jones” was taken directly from my notes about the album titles in the dream.

I had now done my share of performing on my own and new songs kept coming. It was a happier time. The songs began to reflect that. I also chose to remove the period after the “J” in the first initial of my name as to denote a change in my outlook. It might sound odd but I just did not like the way a period looked in my name. It reflected an end and I wanted to manifest something different. Change was on the horizon. It was 2001. I felt I had found my voice and it was time to reach out. The album FROM HERE would follow.

A fan of my music named Thomas Caffey had always voiced interest in recording something with me. He came from a very talented family of artists including sister Charlotte who was responsible for composing a handful of hit songs for her group The Go Go’s. We got together and discussed the possibility of making a new record in his studio. We recorded everything in two weeks. Justin Meldal Johnsen, who at the time was Beck’s main bass man, returned to add his touch to FROM HERE. This time, keyboardist Zac Rae and his assortment of vintage toys would touch the recording. The mixing was done in two stages. After hearing the results of the first mixing, I was upset. It did not sound right, just not quite there. A new session resulted in success. In its simplicity and essence, I find this record a pure pleasure to listen to. To this day, I find nothing about it I would change. With this record, I had found some peace and contentment. Simple, spiritual, healing.

As I was seeking more and more ears, I started to do things that before I would have scoffed at. Namely, I entered songs in contests for songwriting. I also entered the Acoustic Live competition in L.A. and became one of forty finalists chosen from among close to five hundred. In The Great American Song Contest 2002, I won The Outstanding Achievement In Songwriting Award for a new tune called “The Wishing”. Other songwriting honors would follow in the John Lennon songwriting contest and VH1 sponsored Song of The Year. Also during this period, I did my first shows in Europe starting in England and moving through Holland and Paris. I can remember traveling on a night train from Paris and meeting this young couple who loved American culture. The guy talked about football and how much he loved America. He asked to listen to FROM HERE on his discman. As a Ten Euro bill appeared dangling from the bunk bed above me, his comment was “good voice” as the lights turned out.

My experiences in Europe and the possibilities created by traveling alone led to ideas for more songs, of course. I met a young woman named Stella on that same Paris train and our conversations led to the writing of a song called Fontainebleau. She had recommended I visit this beautiful town in France that had a Chateau as its centerpiece. The property was decadent and endless. I guess the song is an act of sharing the experience. It is a story song. Most of my songs are not structured this way. It also rocks! A guitar was strapped to my back as I walked through the grounds of the Chateau. I sat and took it out to come up with the first musical bars and lyrics. These incidents were the origins of an album that would follow. But first, there were a few more dues to be paid.

I was searching for a producer. Weeding through various opportunities was stressful. I did not want to waste time but found myself waiting quite a while for the answers as to how to proceed. I started talks with a family friend who did sound mixing for motion pictures. He loved the songs and wanted to make the record with me. I considered it and we would spend time talking about ideas for quite a while. Turned out not to be a match. Shortly after, I had the fabulous opportunity to do demos for Columbia Records through A&R techman Robert Schahnazarian Junior. The audition was a live recording session in his office using a pro-tools set up. My acoustic guitar was the only accompaniment. These demos had an urgency about them. I felt a lot was on the line and the president of the company would be listening. I was temporarily side tracked from my original goal of making another independent record. Open and appreciative of the possibilities at hand, the demos led to an invitation to record three of the songs with Robert. We did them over sparse weekly sessions in April/May 2003. Upon completion, they were shown to the powers that be. Ironically, I was not attached to the outcome at this point. I knew I was OK continuing on my independent path. When I heard that the label was not going to offer a deal, I just kept moving. Years before, this news would have got a far more upsetting reaction.

MAYBES ARE FADING was the title of the new record and the mood of the day. This was it. I was in for the long u-haul. The record was co-produced by myself and Cees van der Linden. Cees is a dutch bass player and producer who I met through good friend and photographer Umbro, the designer of this web site. Zac Rae and long time drummer Loren Hesz were also on board. Included are “Fontainebleau” and award winners “The Wishing” and “Wonderful Thing”. Also on the album is a new version of the Schahnazarian produced “Am I”. A year and a half to complete, MAYBES ARE FADING, which was selected as a front page featured release at CDbaby, is at its starting gate in 2005.

For post MAYBES ARE FADING acoustic recordings of new songs and selections from the Columbia demos and masters, please refer to the free download section of the web site. Ironically, the new songs were put to tape by my old friend Patrick Picklslay. A full circle maybe? I hope not yet…

MAYBES ARE FADING: album synopsis

A ten song pathway that starts with a few hard questions. The first song, MAYBES ARE FADING, poses these. There is a love interest represented by the metaphor of a violin. Is this instrument the example of refinement or is it an imposter? Can I rely on this? Is she authentic? The instrument might be hollow but it makes a phenomenal sound. You dig in to find not an immediate answer. Instead a journey begins and continues with each successive song. FLOAT is the longing for the love that is lost. More deeply, it is the longing for the life that feels lost with the determination to get it back. ALL INSTEAD is the rough road itself unfolding. You realize that the clarity you seek is possible but obstacles must be overcome. “Simplify it all instead”. “The old failed the test, now lost it all to gain fast”, the song says. A place is reached where we get to the bottom of the matter and begin to rise from the ash. A tension is then released with the next song, WONDERFUL THING. Here we find an acceptance and a soothing resolve that nothing is perfect. “It’s the wonderful thing you do, it’s the beautiful way you choose” is the chorus lyric. Importantly, we realize there is a choice. We continue with this mood through AM I. This is the love ballad that serenades but also dissects the nature of the one you desire. She wears a mask but cannot hide very well. The message of the song is that she does not have to. Her flaws are her best features and you want her to stop attempting to hide them. You have evolved and you are letting her know it is OK to be exactly who she is. There is now a BREAKTHROUGH. You are announcing this by the albums midpoint. Time to step up with THE WISHING, a song that proclaims that you have found a sort of wealth that wants to be shared. Obviously, this involves something other than money and a lost love. Will she return to collect? She does return and it is left open as to whether she stays. FONTAINEBLEAU, like ALL INSTEAD, represents a fast paced exciting trip. It is the descending part of the musical and emotional arch that ascended with ALL INSTEAD. This time it is the happy surrender. You are sharing the trip. You travel through a land you have never seen before. A decadent castle in the center of green fields and lakes is the new setting. She told you to go and you listened. You did not hesitate and found something new. In the end, you did find the muse but you also realized that the muse was inseparable from you. By song ten, appropriately titled AND SO IT HAPPENS unfolds to peace. The song sonically resembles the first MAYBES ARE FADING. The difference lies only in what journey took place in between. We always had it but now we believed it.