Jill Jones: An Essay About One Of My Favorite Artists

I was definitely an odd kid. No doubt. In elementary school most of my male classmates knew about football scores. Race cars. Army men. Not I. I started my music geekdom at a very young age. In fourth grade at nine years old I didn’t know shit about the lineup of the Buffalo Bills, but I could easily name what record label all of my favorite artists were signed to and who produced their albums. By the age of ten I’d already amassed a sizeable music collection.

I have always been fascinated by the liner notes that come with albums. Even to this day I am very hesitant to jump on the mp3 train. I like my cover art work. I like to know who the artist wants to thank. I like to know who engineered the damn album.

Let’s rewind to the year 1987. I was twelve years old and my parents trusted my friend Josh and I to babysit my younger brother Don. Once the parentals were gone out came the turntable, the blender, and the board games. Accompanied by milkshakes and Monopoly me and Josh and Don used to crank up the Madonna, the Prince, the Vanity 6, the Sheila E, and the Apollonia 6, etc etc. I knew every word to every song. I knew who wrote the songs and I knew who played bass. And I knew there was a really unique voice in many of the songs on these albums. This voice was a bit stronger. A bit higher in the mix. Whenever I used to sing along I always chose to sing the harmony that this voice sang. I didn’t know who the girl was that sang these parts. Her picture was not on any of the album covers. All I knew is that she was “J.J”. J.J.’s voice turned the chorus of “The Belle Of St Mark” by Sheila into harmonic euphoria. During the second pre-chorus of Apollonia 6’s “Oh She She Wa Wa” a new melody is introduced. And it is perhaps one of the most fun sing-alongs ever caught on wax. “I gotta be home by ten! But I’ll be your bestest friend!!! Oh she she wa wa I’m the one that you ooh I’m the one that you ooh I’m the one that you want.” I cranked the volume to ten and sang along over and over. Damn this J.J. is one hell of a singer.

Later that year I got around to buying Prince’s 1999 album. It took me awhile to buy it. It was a double album and I had to save up for that one. Upon reading the liner notes I realized the elusive J.J. was all over this album. And finally I put 2 and 2 together. A ha! It all made sense! J.J. was the other girl in the 1999 video who wasn’t Lisa! 1999 was the Prince album released prior to Purple Rain…the album that catapulted Prince into superstardom. Corresponding with Purple Rain’s rise to number one was the popularity of the two women in Prince’s band: Wendy (on guitar) and Lisa (on keys). In the 1999 video there were two very hot ladies playing the keyboard together. I knew one was Lisa…but who was the adorable blonde who almost looked like Marilyn Monroe? It’s funny at ten years old while most boys my age were probably drooling over Lisa and J.J.’s sultry keyboard playing, I just wanted to dress as cool as them!

My next encounter with said J.J. came when I was reading the Prince biography “Prince: A Pop Life” On page 136 author Dave Hill starts singing the praises of a Paisley Park release from 1987 called “Jill Jones”. I was stumped. How did I miss this one? I thought I had collected everything that came out of the Prince camp? Who was Jill Jones? I was hooked.

Says Hill: “Jill Jones is the Prince protegee who sounds most thoroughly like herself…arguably Prince’s most complete and engaging female counterpart.” My interest was piqued.

Reading further into the book I finally made the connection that J.J. and Jill Jones were one and the same. And the music collector/archivist that existed even in the twelve year old me could not wait to hear this positively praised Jill Jones solo album. If her voice sounded that powerful singing backup…I could only imagine what she sounded like up front. Even further into the book Hill claimed that Jones helped beef up Vanity 6’s vocals from behind a curtain. At twelve years old, that would have been my dream job.

The next time I heard from Jill Jones was on Prince’s “Sign Of The Times” album–she sang co-lead vocal on the second-to-last track “It’s Gonna Be A Beautiful Night.”

It would be eight years until I would cross paths with Jill Jones again, and oddly enough I found her in the liner notes again. By the chilly November of 1995 I had moved to Buffalo New York. I won’t bore anyone with the details of my own life…but the first months living on my own in a bigger city were purely magical. The idealism of youth coupled with my first taste of freedom. The music of Teena Marie provided the soundtrack for these few months of my life where I felt truly happy. It was strange how Teena’s music made its way into my realm. I had read articles about Teena’s discography and she always seemed like an artist I would like to potentially explore. The only song I knew by her was “Lovergirl”– and I remember being very young when that video came out and being scared of the lady on the TV with the nose ring.

So it was a brisk grey early evening in Buffalo, November 1995. I walked into Blockbuster music and for some reason stumbled upon the Teena Marie bin. I cannot remember if I actively searched out the Teena Marie section or if I just happened to be in the “T’s”. But I clearly remember holding two Cds in my hand. “Lady Tee” and “Irons In The Fire.” Thinking back to that year…when I was twenty years old…money was pretty tight. To spend ten or twelve dollars on a CD was quite the sacrifice in those days. But there was something very quirky and enthralling about these Teena Marie Cds. The cover of “Irons In The Fire” was perhaps one of the oddest cover art choices I had ever seen. For some reason Teena Marie is wrapped in a satin blanket in front of a fireplace. The fire looks warm and relaxing. The satin blanket looks comfy. And the expression on Teena Marie’s face is priceless. She’s not smiling. She’s not even posed. Her mouth is half open and her eyes looked dazed and surprised. I found it endearing that off all pictures and poses, this one was chosen for the cover. Hmmm interesting. I was immediately hooked. I took the CD over to the music sampler and gave good old “Irons In The Fire” a listen. I was greeted with the thumping bass-line of “I Need Your Lovin'” and then the music segued into a full disco onslaught. Yup. I was hooked. And at that moment after only hearing twenty seconds of one Teena Marie song and intrigued by her quirky choice of cover art, I decided I would be purchasing the every CD this woman has ever made. I knew the discography of Teena Marie was going to provide the music for the best months of my life. And it did. (To this day I am thankful I purchased the “Lady Tee” CD that day, it’s out of print and costs a lot of money if you can find it!)

So I spent late 95/early 96 raving my heart out, falling in and out of love, dancing until 4am almost every night, and making my friends listen to Teena Marie non-stop. One night I remember being curled up in my bed reading the liner notes for Teena’s “Starchild” CD. My mouth nearly dropped to the floor. Damned if Jill Jones didn’t sing backup on some of my favorite cuts from that album. Could it be the same Jill Jones that sang on the Prince albums? How on earth? In all my music geekdom I didn’t realize there was any connection between the Prince camp and the Teena Marie camp. Hmmm? I feverishly read through all of the liner notes on every Teena Marie CD. Quite curiously there was a song writing credit to “J.D. Jones” on a couple of cuts. And so Jill Jones strikes again.

One of the things I miss most about the 1990s (and 1980s for that matter) are record stores. Sure, they still exist. But let’s face it, the magic is gone. Why deal with people when you can just shop online? Being a music collector, the thrill of the hunt is irreplaceable. I used to thumb through the cut out bins for hours. It was much harder to find out of print Cds in those days. The thump-thumb of LP covers as quickly browse looking for treasure. And as wasteful as they were, the longbox that used to house Cds was almost a satisfying substitute.

I remember it being a sunny spring afternoon. I was at the big Record Theatre on Main Street in Buffalo. The huge music store with the revolving door. When I was a kid it was like being in heaven when my parents made the hour drive into the city and let me run wild. I used to twirl through that spinning door with the hunger of a lion. Good music that was hard to find awaited on the other side of that door. Once I moved to Buffalo I still felt that same hunger for music as a twenty one year old. Back to that sunny Spring afternoon in 1996…

I was thump-thump-thumping through the used Cds. I zipped through the A’s, B’s and C’s. By the time I made it to the F’s my arms were already stacked full of music. And then I dove into the J’s. And there it was. No fucking way! I nearly dropped the stack of Cds in my arms as came upon my very own copy of the elusive 1987 solo debut by the one and only Jill Jones! I was scared to look at the price. $1.99. No fucking way. After years and years of casually searching (I always have a mental wish-list and Jill was on it) I finally was going to have a chance to see what this album was all about. I could not believe that in my hands I had a vintage unopened Jill Jones CD. Long box and all! (I wish I had saved that longbox!)

I listened to the album and it took awhile to grow on me. I found all of my favorite albums from the Prince camp (Sheila E, Vanity 6 etc) to be endearing because they were immediate. The hooks and the lyrics were in your face. The choruses were so catchy you didn’t have a choice but to sing along. The Jill Jones album was a bit more subtle. A bit more nuanced. And over time the grooves, the lyrics, and the voice sank in. The song that initially grabbed me from this disc was “My Man”. With its killer melody and its bright, simple acoustic-guitar-driven pop arrangement I was feelin’ that jam. And over the course of about two weeks I fell in love with nearly all 8 jams on the Jill Jones album. It was the voice that carried the album. The voice whispered. The voice screamed. The voice made you want to dance and it made you want to cry. The voice effortlessly carried the most urgent of dance stomps (“All Day All Night”) while at the same time flawlessly nailing the vulnerability of “Baby, You’re A Trip.” The voice even barked like a dog at one point. Flawless. (It was years later that I realized the best song on the album was “Violet Blue” — never before has longing and forbidden romantic intrigue so gorgeous…)

The Jill Jones album spent a lot of time with me in my car in 1996. The energy and enthusiasm of Jill’s performance on this album is infectious. Perhaps the purest and brightest moments of my early 20s were shared with the music of Teena Marie and Jill Jones. And naturally I did my research. Jill Jones’ only other release was a song on the “Earth Girls Are Easy” soundtrack. I wondered what ever happened to Jill. Over the next few years my life got a lot darker. The music I listened to got a lot darker. And the music I wrote got a lot darker. Once in a great while for old times sake I’d pull out the old Jill Jones album. Just to remember what it was like to dance…and not realize how temporary all the best moments can be…

By the year 2000 the glee of my Buffalo club years was a faint sparkle I rarely dared to remember. I was now living in Florida and my spirit had taken some hits it found hard to recover from. One thing that remained undiminished however was my love for music. A lot had changed since 1996. And naturally the greatest change was the introduction of the internet into every day life. I spent many-an-hour in the early part of this decade meeting unsavory characters from the internet and doing unsavory things to my self esteem. In those rare moments when I wasn’t mutilating my self esteem I did try to keep up with all the musicians I loved. One night on a whim I decided to take a look and see if Jill Jones ever resurfaced. I remember finding a website. I remember there was a song called “Pissing All Over The Sun”. I remember a sound clip. I remember being indifferent about the whole thing and filing it away as something I would check out later.

And the years went by. I kept meeting unsavory people from the internet. I kept falling in love with monsters. I kept sticking my head in life’s metaphorical toilet, playing with the dirtiest of people’s mental bacteria. It was a long cry from the life I led as a kid who danced to Vanity 6 in 1986 with my kid brother. Or the starry-eyed romantic hopeful who would climb through snow banks just to make sure I didn’t miss one night at the club in 1996. It was too dangerous to think of life before twelve step groups. Before addictions. Before my compulsions got the best of me. 2003 was a rock bottom and 2004 was the year I found myself in a therapist’s chair ready to get better.

And once you live through those rock bottoms, those unfixable heartbreaks, those unwarranted and unexpected disappointments, there’s a certain kind of stone that forms deep in your chest. It’s not something you talk about. It’s not something you share with your friends. It’s too dark to explain. I’ve tried to explain the stone that lives in me to a few people…but it is no use. It’s the kind of conversation that can eclipse the sun. No one wants to hear it. No one really understands it. It just is.

My therapist was a huge positive influence on my life. Another wonderful influence was my psychology professor in college. With the help of those two wonderful women I began to understand how to repair different parts of my internal machinery. I was given the tools to recognize when my machinery was about to go haywire. But as deep and open as my conversations were in all these sessions, I was truly never really able to properly express the deadness that had come to life inside of me. Return of the living dead.

And in my day to day life I still laughed a lot. I will always have that crooked and goofy smile. I will always love making perverted inappropriate jokes. But no matter how much one smiles, or jokes, or laughs, I do wonder if there is a remedy for a severely deadened spirit?

In February 2004 I decided it was time to fill in some of the gaps in my Cd collection. I knew the second Jill Jones Cd was for sale on CD baby.com. I checked in on the price from time to time. I was a bit apprehensive about buying the album. I’d seen many-an-80s pop singer so acoustic with varied results. I remember seeing Pat Benetar in concert in 2001. Somewhere towards the end of her set she did “Love Is A Battlefield” in a slowed-down acoustic rendition. I remember my friend Erin turning to me and saying “Jesus Christ Gloff, why does everyone have to ruin their shit by doing these lame-ass bad acoustic versions of good songs.” I had to agree. Cyndi Lauper wrote a couple great newer songs on the acoustic guitar, while at the same time butchering her back catalog. Madonna’s acoustic self-explorations on “American Life” were half-baked and amateurish at best. At a cynical 29 years old I expected the second Jill Jones album was going to be decent. I expected that I would listen to it a couple times then put it on file. I whipped out my credit card, cruised over to Cdbaby, and put in the order. And to be honest, after a couple days I forgot that I’d even ordered the album. And a week or so went by…

It was a warm February afternoon in Florida when I got a package from Portland, Oregon. I always had a soft spot in my heart for Oregon. In moments of depression my mind often wandered to the possibilities of the geographical cure. And Portland with its sweeping mountains and supposed warm artistic climate always seemed to be an option. I didn’t remember ordering anything from Portland but…ahhhh Jill Jones.

I walked to my car. I wasn’t in a hurry. I got into the driver’s seat. I wasn’t in a hurry. I slowly opened the envelope. I didn’t tear open the wrapper like I did when a Madonna album came out. I opened the wrapper slowly. I started my car. I put the car in reverse and nonchalantly stuck in the second Jill Jones album.

And the guitar on the opening track began. I wasn’t expecting a minor chord. The first chord change came. I wasn’t expecting something so beautifully dissonant. And then the voice came. That fucking voice. The same voice I heard sing “Oh She She Wa Wa” in 1985. The same voice I heard sing “Mia Boca” during the best days of my life in 1996. And I pulled my car back into the parking spot. I put my car into park. By the third line of the first song I was devastated. I shook my head and hit the eject button on my CD player. I was not ready for this album yet. I needed to be home. I needed to be alone where no one could see me.

The second time I tried to listen to the Jill Jones album was when I got home and was making dinner. I made it to the third song and my roomate came home. This was an album I needed to listen to alone. Just as well…while I was cooking I wasn’t able to properly pay attention anyhow. I turned off the Cd a second time.

After dinner I went to my room. I had some work to do on my website so I put on the Jill Jones album a third time. Usually I do not catch lyrics the first time I hear an album and this was no exception. But I was floored by the TONE of the album. The guitars on the album had much more in common with Sonic Youth than they did with Lucinda Williams. And thank God.

By the time the sixth song was playing I found myself in complete speechless awe. Not many things impress me anymore. Not many things shock me anymore. And almost nothing stops me dead in my tracks. But as Jill Jones’ album “Two” poured from the speakers of my stereo I found myself in a state of disbelief unmatched by anything I had ever experienced as a music fan. I followed the careers of all the musicians I loved from the 80s. As time wore on, I found myself usually relating to their new music less and less. Pat Benetar had settled for pure formula. I still loved Madonna, but my own explorations of music and psychology had run deep. Madonna’s music couldn’t keep up with me. Stevie Nicks has always been one of my favorite songwriters. I find it unfortunate that she has given up her continuous quest to understand love and life by being a vital songwriter.…instead choosing to settle into the comfortable role of “rock legend”.

For the next two hours I played the Jill Jones album over and over. By the fourth listen I began to pick up on some of the lyrics. Something caught my ear. I don’t remember which line it was…but whatever Jill sang crawled throw my skin. I lit a candle. I put on some incense. I put on my most comfortable pajamas and laid on my bed with the lyric sheet.

The story of my life in the last ten years was being told in these songs. These fucking gorgeous songs. And finally I was able to cry. Somehow the lyrics of these songs were able to leap past the steel around my heart. They were able to plow through the solid concrete wall I’d built around myself and dive right into the core of my being. And finally I was able to put a voice to the sadness and the deadness that’s been securely tucked away. These Jill Jones songs were invading territory I let no living person go. And I couldn’t stop crying. Song by song I could relate. After all I had been through in the last ten years I was truly unable to coherently and properly tell my own story. Not with the intensity it deserves. And in Jill Jones telling her own story, I found a voice for mine too.

Here’s some of my favorite lyrics from the Jill Jones “Two” album, and why I can relate to them. I am picking out my favorite lyric from each song.

From “Station”:

“You were in my dream…the other half of me…”

This line made me think about the lovers I’ve had in my life, and how much I wanted to give them of myself. My entire life I have always longed to secure a connection with another man. But the only place I’ve ever truly been able to connect has been in my dreams. This is such a fucking haunting and gorgeous song. I challenge you to listen to it and not be shaken.

From “The Mission”:

“Godspeed the mission as you leave me behind I can still hear the sound of every thought that you make”.

The greatest loves of my life found me understanding the men I loved much more than they understood me. I have always had the ability to get into people’s heads. I am the kind of lover who likes to know what makes someone tick. I like to know someone’s favorite color and if they like ketchup on their fries or not. And this line particularly got to me because I have found myself abandoned by love I was certain about. And long after the man is gone…and his scent is gone…and the hope is gone…remains my understanding of their mind and their heart. It is devastating. This is a devastating song. I didn’t really catch on to the lyrics until one day when I was driving into work. I had to wear sunglasses into my job because I was crying so heard. There’s one point during the second chorus when Jill sings “There’s something so wrong without you here by my side” when there’s a catch in her voice. That’s not a voice singing. It’s a heart singing. This is one of my favorite songs of all time.

From “Head Over Heels”:

“Nobody’s pryin’ my knees open or holding me down. Everything is sound.”

I wasn’t given the tools to understand how to have sex the right way. I had to learn in the chair of a therapist’s office. Where I grew up gay sex happened in cellars and dark dark rooms when no one was looking and no one was talking. And as I grew into an adult I never learned there was any other way. I have disrespected myself and my body in the name of lust many many times in my life. I do not regret this. I have taken my experience and used it for personal growth and for my art. At the point this album came into my life I was deep into my therapy and recovery. This song was a song of liberation and hope. I needed this song at exactly the moment it came to me.

From “Sleepy Daydream”

“My lover’s scorn you could say I wear it very well. Not my style it’s the only style I’ve worn.”

I always had a tendency to run my heart right into the closed fist of a man. I have always been prone towards dark mysterious and difficult men. Men who weren’t available. Men who admitted that they enjoyed saying mean things to me. Men that I wanted to save. Men that I wanted to understand desperately. All these men were jigsaw puzzles with a lot of missing pieces. In the process of my therapy I was trying to understand why I was always gravitating towards the same kind of character. It was a self destructive habit. This song really meant a lot to me. Scorn most certainly is NOT my style anymore.

From “Gorgeous Wonder”:

“Baptised by so many rivers. Been brought back to life with poison more than once. Running over the minefields of the private Armageddons a lifetime sees.”

This is the verse that initially made me break down and start bawling. I think of all time times in life I hoped with all my might. I got so fucking excited hoping that love was going to happen! I felt so revived and full of life because of these loves. Romance makes me smile. And I’ve always been prone to dangerous and destructive romance. To me, this line eloquently sums up the elation I’d felt for all the poisonous men who’d broken my spirit. The third and fourth lines are just as devastating. I often look at people walking down the streets. I see the weather and the sadness on their faces. I wonder what private Armageddons lurk inside of them. We all have them…our own secret minefields. And I spent years clumsily jumping and leaping trying to avoid the bombs. And so often I failed to dodge them…”

There’s one more line in this song I just must mention. “Raining me…calmed me gently when the room was bare no garlands at my feet”

To me, this line reminded me of my life in 1998. I’d given away everything I owned almost. I was only left with a few Cds, my Nancy Drew books, one pair of jeans, one shirt, and my acoustic guitar. My room was bare. There were no garlands at my feet. When I was a fabulous 20 year old in 1995 I never thought three years later I’d lose it all. My possessions, my heart, and most importantly, my spirit.

“Kanga Roo”
This is a cover song and it wasn’t the lyrics from this one that got to me. It was the tone. The delivery. Upon my first listen of the album when I reached this song, I knew this was something magical and intense for me. This song is otherworldly. Conjuring ghosts and spirits long gone. It’s the swirl of life and death.

From “Pissing All Over The Sun”:

“I miss you but I gotta make it quit. I’ve got to stop this motion with some kinda tourniquet”

I don’t deal well with lost love. I am the kind of person who holds on tight to love. I like to try like hell to make it work. I was often the last one to let go. Long after I owned this album I watched my last relationship dissolve. I called him and sang this song to him on his phone. This song speaks of a hollowness in my heart that only music can explain. I don’t have the words to explain it.

From “Run Scared”:
“To see the motor of emotions not from the cockpit of impulses”

Therapy had given me the tools to think with a more clear mind. My psychology classes had given me the knowledge to understand myself a lot better. And these songs gave me an avenue and opportunity to grieve and heal. These songs were the catalyst that unfroze my emotions. I have an impulsive nature. It is a struggle to keep this in check. “The speed of addiction…rush of adrenaline”. Perfect ending to a perfect album… I could easily write 2,000 more words about what these songs meant to me. I don’t need to. The music speaks for itself…

There are still a few copies left for sale here.

For the first week of owning this album I couldn’t stop listening to it. All the tears I’d stored for years were unleashed. I actually called into work the second day I owned the album and just let myself cry and cry. I needed it. One night after a show I played the album in a midnight Florida rain storm. Driving through the fog and the night with these songs was purely magical. Another night as my emotionally unreachable boyfriend fell asleep naked to my left I had my cd player to the right with my headphone on and these songs playing. There was a certain kind of power and honesty and intelligence in these songs that is unmatched. Simple as that. I didn’t expect it. I have to say it again. I was floored.

After the high voltage intensity brought on by these seven songs I felt a hunger to explore the art of Jill Jones to the fullest. What exactly happened in the fourteen years between the first and the second album? with a little research I found out that Jill had in fact demoed up a bunch of songs to submit to |Prince for her second album. I had to hear these songs.

I was doing a puzzle one night with my friends. They wondered why I kept running up and down the stairs. Ebay baby! For sale was a Cd of the Jill Jones songs that were never released. I ended up getting in a feverish bidding war with some Prince fan, but I was determined to hear these songs. With the deep connection I felt to the lyrics on the “Two” album, I felt it was imperative I win this album. Well I won it, $102 dollars later! Since these songs are unreleased and I really shouldn’t own them, I will not go into too much detail. But these songs truly helped me understand the transition between the debut pop album and the intensely personal second one. The lyrics have the intelligence, darkness, and literal grace of “Two” while maintaining the pattern of killer choruses and poppy arrangements of the first album. I can only assume it must have been crushing to have Prince reject these songs. You can hear that Jill put more heart and personal investment into this music more than anything she had done prior. Much like the songs on “Two” felt like extensions of a person’s soul, so did aspects of these songs. The music and arrangements have much more in common with the likes of Kate Bush and The Cocteu Twins than with anything Prince ever put his mitts on.

I was also able to check out Jill’s part in Prince’s “Graffiti Bridge”. The defining scene is when Jill gets mad at Prince and takes her underwear off from beneath her dress and throws them on the ground. There is no doubt that “Graffiti Bridge” is an awful movie, but I can’t help but read the symbolism of this scene. Jill Jones left her panties for Prince, and in the end she walked away with her integrity and ended up a true artist.

Another one of my favorite Jill Jones cameos comes on Chic’s “Live At The Budukon” album. Jill acted as a singer for Chic during a Japanese tour in 1996. During the final number each band member is given a few seconds to do their solos and show off for the audience. Nile Rodgers builds up the Jill Jones intro…and what do we get? A nursery rhyme! “This old man…he played six…” I always thought solos were so lame and annoying, I love that Jill went out on a limb and once again, as usual, did her own thing. There’s lots of other neat cameos to seek out if you are a Jill Jones fan. She covered Blondie’s “Call Me” on a Giorgio Moroder tribute album. She did a cover of Carly Simon’s “Why” on a Ronny Jordon album.

I have one last strange Jill Jones co-incidence to share. Last April I threw a huge release party for my album “Now’s The Right Time To Feel Good.” I decided to go completely glam with the show…arrived in a limo with a boy (folk singer Richard Cortez) only wearing underwear…dancers with wild hair styled by Scotty Bentley…local artists… I knew this was a landmark night for me…and I knew I could only arrive on stage with a song that really spoke of where I was in my life. I have been a Jody Watley fan for a long time and one of my favorite albums of hers is “Saturday Night Experience” – a rare obscure dance album only released in Japan. Especially relevant to me was track two–“Another Chapter.” In this song Jody talks about letting go of the past and moving forward with the future. That was very much my mindset back then…and even today as I write this. So as I made my procession to the stage with my backup dancers…Jody’s “Another Chapter” played. Imagine my shock months later when I checked out the liner notes of “Saturday Night Experience” — “Another Chapter” was co-written with Jill Jones. I couldn’t believe I didn’t catch this earlier. Life is full of strange coincidence. That’s what makes it beautiful.

Today is Jill’s birthday. I want to thank Jill Jones for writing an album that forever changed my life. These songs aided in my greiving and healing process. I am a stronger and more complete person again. I hope you continue to build your legacy and try out whatever path will satisfy your artistic and wandering spirit. I told you that I had a lot to write about you and your music! As of 4:38 July 11th, 2007, I’ve said most of what needs to be said. HAPPY BIRTHDAY JILL!!

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