Life During Lockdown: Jason Luckett
Jason and I were roommates for a year during our time at UCLA, and we’ve been friends since then. Among the things we have in common is music. Jason is a lifelong singer/songwriter/guitarist, and I remember even at UCLA going to see his band when they played at local clubs. While I’m not much of a musician, more like a fan who picks up a guitar now and then, Jason has carved out a career for himself since we were students together.
1. Give me some highlights and lowlights from your first three months in lockdown mode.
The first lowlight was the first few weeks, seeing all the performances I had planned disappear from my schedule. For the past seven years, a big part of my work has been in schools, performing shows that teach kids to respect natural resources. I perform for audiences of 200–500 at a time. It’s really rewarding and a grind at the same time because I travel from San Diego to Silicon Valley. I also had festival gigs lined up for my singer/songwriter shows. I’d been optimistic as the news trickled in, but the second Monday of March, I kind of collapsed when I realized that I had no work during my most profitable time of year.
When I pushed away the economic anxiety, I actually began to rediscover myself. (I like not having my bedtime set by my erratic work schedule!) I spent hours practicing my instruments, which I’d brought home from my studio. I began journaling again. Bill Withers and Little Richard died and I wrote about them on Facebook. Then people were posting pictures of 10 albums in 10 days. I decided to write about 10 albums, including my later in life encounters with some of the artists who made them. People expressed to me that they were anticipating the next post. I felt useful again. The artists I wrote about grounded me in brilliant music, artistry, activism, even community building. It reminded me of what I aimed to do with my art from the very beginning.
Then George Floyd was murdered. I felt speechless. Then I got triggered. I spent a couple days arguing online with a white friend from childhood who believes white privilege is only extant as a slur against white people. I was being trolled, but alone in my home, I kept fighting back until I suggested we have a phone call, and he declined saying that he prefers to talk online. That was the lowest point for me, allowing myself to be caught up in the distraction of a hopeless individual fight, instead reaching inwards to find something that positively contributed to the global conversation. I don’t think that if I were interacting with people in the real world I would’ve gotten caught in that, but the little jerk kept popping up in my notifications. It’s a shock to see that someone with whom you grew up spew such short-sighted drivel. But that’s the state of the internet right now and I’d like to think I’ve learned my lesson to not engage.
On the flip-side, Mike Kinman, the rector of All Saints Church in Pasadena invited me to join a group of creatives as he was realizing that church would be online for the foreseeable future. Through that group I was compelled to create a piece of music called, “The Witness is in Our Breath,” based on prayers selected and read by Steve & Clara Williams, audio I discovered from a former slave, Phoebe Boyd, plus sounds from the streets during the weeks leading up to Juneteenth. If we can’t breathe, we can’t progress. The Sunday following, I was thrilled to hear Mike preach, unexpectedly, a sermon based on these ideas that we’d put together in our piece. It felt like an instant burst, an immediate manifestation of an idea growing from a simple seed.
2. How have you grown personally and professionally during this disruption?
Isolation has given us time to reflect on what’s important. I’m not sure that I’ve grown personally other than that it’s refocused me on the importance of solitude for my mental health. I’ll know when the artificial enforcement of that is over if I’ve actually grown and will remain committed to that.
Growth as it relates to my profession is easier to measure. I’ve definitely become a more knowledgeable and dexterous musician through this period of practice. But through the All Saints Church creative group I’ve also learned to collaborate in a way that I haven’t had to before as more of a solo singer/songwriter and multi-instrumentalist. I’ve also gained a bit of confidence as that collective includes people I certainly would put at a higher level of professional achievement than I’ve had in my indie world. I’ve been off-off-Broadway for a long time so to speak, and some of these folks are solidly established at the Lyceum. I still listen more than I speak, but I feel like a peer. Again, real world benefits will be seen when we move out of a Zoom box.
3. Has your relationship with your music and your community changed as a result of being homebound?
I think it’s expanded my palette for my own creations. I’ve only played two songs live online this whole time. My favorite way to perform for an audience is literally unplugged, no microphone, with enough light to see my audience’s eyes. I often react in the course of playing to shifts of a single person’s expression. Seeing animated hearts, thumbs and comments popping up, but no human eyes is pretty unnerving. But even the little interaction makes me feel appreciated and want to do more for my audience when I feel I can do it again in person.
And with other communities, the Zoom box view into our home boxes has created an intimacy and closeness for which I’m really grateful. Sometimes there’s fatigue sitting down for all these meetings and virtual parties, but mostly there’s time to linger and get to know people in new ways. I always prefer one-on-one communication to hanging in groups, so being able to concentrate on a face at a time (when you’re not in gallery view!) has helped me see some individuals in a way that I wouldn’t always if we were in a crowd.
4. Can musicians/songwriters like yourself create positive change in the world during the pandemic?
I always believe that musicians can create positive change. I’ve always preferred engagement to entertainment. We’re not writing policy, but we’re hopefully firing the minds of those who will. The pieces I’ve worked on or have shared have been designed to comfort and/or inspire. Music married with words connects intellect with spirit. We don’t lose the ability to do that when we’re stuck at home.
