Today we’d like to introduce you to Montana Jones
Hi Montana, can you start by introducing yourself? We’d love to learn more about how you got to where you are today?
I played bass in high school pep and jazz band and was deadset on becoming a professional musician, but dropped out at 17 when I got pregnant to raise my son. Fast forward 15 years and I had two kids, three degrees, a government career in DC on the National Mall – everything I’d dreamed of for my Plan B. But life had other plans, and I endured a nightmarish traumatic experience that left me reeling and aware of the weakness of the foundation I’d built my life upon.
A song helped save my life at a pivotal moment. When I was as close to the brink as I could have been without falling off, a song Spotify suggested changed everything. I heard that I wasn’t alone in enduring what felt impossible, and I took a step back. I started shedding my old self like a snake shedding dead skin, an experience that was (and is) both painful and liberating. I picked up my Ibanez bass I’d held onto for almost two decades and started fumbling with it again. I began spending all my free time outdoors hiking, learning to trust the new strength I’d found in my body, which had been alien (and almost an enemy) to me for 32 years. I stopped caring about being a part of the crowd and leaned into what fed my soul.
When I decided to jump into my Plan A and pursue professional musicianship, I was looking for examples of what it looks like when someone begins at zero. So many interviews capture well-known musicians talking about how they’d bombed gigs or utterly failed when starting out the gate, and I wanted a glimpse into those windows. So I decided to be the change and start my Instagram account at day one with a #100daysofpractice challenge. I’m not a social media person, so it was intimidating and embarrassing, but I was determined. Slowly people took notice, and I began driving into Memphis to play and attend networking events, and that effort made all the difference.
Now, 10 months into playing, I’ve been able to do ridiculous things – I’ve played several live shows, played accompaniment on a tour, joined a band, and have been in the studio. Every step forward exposes a little more of the future on the horizon, and it’s looking bright.
Alright, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?
Absolutely not. Putting yourself out there is not for the faint of heart, and I was absolutely the faint of heart for most of my life. Old habits died hard – I took criticism personally, I overestimated my abilities, I overextended myself. But with practice and perseverance, my path began to take shape and I started to truly understand music, like a language I had heard my whole life but could only now comprehend. I was (and am) teaching myself theory, performance, bass guitar, songwriting, voice. My bookshelves piled up with secondhand music textbooks from Goodwill, biographies on the giants of music, anything I could find that was even tangentially related to my craft. I know I’ll always be learning, which is something I love.
Part of my challenge is living out of the city – I wouldn’t tell people I was coming to play with that I was driving two and a half hours one way to rehearse out of fear that they’d doubt my commitment, so I waited until after I’d shown up to tell them. And the length of time I’d been playing was no secret – every day of progress was well documented on my Instagram account – but I didn’t exactly offer it up, either. When I was first asked to audition for Fearless Dave and the Tsunamis, I didn’t tell them until our second practice after I was chosen as their bassist that I’d been playing for four months. Of course, because they’re incredible guys, they just thought it was interesting and never fed into my doubts.
As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
I’m a bassist – I’m absolutely in love with the low end. I take a lot of pride in learning quickly, being easy to work with, and showing up reliably. The simple act of showing up sets musicians apart. I think you can be a skilled virtuoso, but if you’re difficult, unreliable, or insufferable, you won’t find as much work. So I try to stay humble, serve the music as it asks to be served and not in a way that inflates the self, and I dance. I can’t keep time with tapping my toes, so I dance while I play. It’s a known issue.
How do you think about luck?
I’ll quote Tom Waits here: “There is luck, but the best luck you make yourself.” I’ve endured a lot throughout my life, and I lived the vast majority of it chasing numbness. As we seek, so shall we find. If you focus on the bad, you’ll find it. If you look for the light, it’ll be there, too.
I credit myself as being lucky to have met Aybil, an incredible singer-songwriter for whom I play bass for when she needs accompaniment, at a Womxn in Memphis Music networking event when I had been barely playing for a month. But the luck was in the doing – if I hadn’t shown up, even though I felt completely underqualified to be there – we wouldn’t have met. The same goes for playing with Fearless Dave and the Tsunamis – if I hadn’t been uploading my practice videos into what felt like the void, I couldn’t have been an option for their consideration on bass. And even still more opportunities that feel completely surreal continue to unfold as I lean into and answer my calling.
So luck is what you make it. If you’re praying for change, you’d better be prepared to put the effort in to meet those changes. Otherwise they’ll pass you by in favor of someone who’s doing the work. Words are noise. Action is the prayer that is answered.
Contact Info:
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/montanajones.music
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@montanajonesmusic
