“I feel like a vessel for the marijuana,” he said. We’d just roasted a few dabs of hash oil and were hanging out on our second-floor balcony at the Hill Place apartments in Fayetteville, Arkansas. For those unfamiliar, hash oil is a highly concentrated form of THC, likened in many ways to the “everclear” of weed. Put lightly, it’s potent. Such an astute and apt description of this substance was one of the very first things I ever heard from Jesse Wells’ mouth. For a guy who’d hardly smoked much pot before, it was a moment of brilliance – or at least to us it was. Meeting Jesse At the time, circa 2015, I was a student at the University of Arkansas, playing on the school’s rugby team. Born and raised in Austin, TX to a pair of UT grads, I naturally grew up a Longhorns fan; these of course are few and far between in the state of Arkansas. Fortunately, I made quick friends with one of my rugby teammates, Dan, who like me was a Horns fanatic. If you’re wondering why I didn’t go to UT… well, it’s not a particularly easy school to get into. I leave it at that! Dan, meanwhile, found himself in Northwest Arkansas by virtue of parental punishment stemming from his senior year of high school. After being “busted” by his parents for smoking pot, he was forced to enroll at John Brown University in Siloam Springs, a small town nestled in the upper left-hand corner of Arkansas just along the Oklahoma border. John Brown is a private Christian school with strict policies in place; it’s a school for the religiously inclined in northern Arkansas to attend higher education. At John Brown, Dan joined the rugby club in an effort to find a community that liked sports and wasn’t overly bound and chained by “the rules”. It was on this team where he met Jesse Wells. Jesse went to a private Christian school? Yes, he did. Unlike Dan, however, Jesse was there on a scholarship to study and play music within the institution. Fast forward a year to 2014, and Dan had transferred out of John Brown to the University of Arkansas, where he and I became good pals and subsequently roommates. One night in 2015, Dan mentioned his buddy from John Brown was playing a show at one of the bars on Dickson Street with his band, Cosmic American. Dan confided that although the band wasn’t entirely his style of music, his friend Jesse was a badass performer so it would be fun. Under 21, with class in the morning, and probably some Thursday night football on the TV, I declined to join them for the show. What a dumb mistake that turned out to be. I still kick myself for it. Candidly, a part of me also didn’t want to go because I carried a ridiculous notion that the Northwest Arkansas music scene would pale in comparison with Austin, TX, where I used to frequent shows with my music-obsessed mother and my dad. What a close minded way to go through life; frankly, this is an example of the unwarranted snobbery you occasionally get from Austin folks. In this instance, I’m guilty as charged. I’ll never forget how, shortly after Dan left for the show, I found some Cosmic American tunes on Facebook and gave them a listen, just to affirm I made a good call staying home. Pretty quickly, though, I realized the show was probably going to rock hard. Dan got home later, buzzing about how awesome it was. Of course. I hadn’t met Jesse yet, but from there on I made a commitment to myself I wouldn’t miss his next show. A month or two later, Dan said Jesse was coming over to chill, and I said to myself “I want to meet this dude”. He showed up in black high-top combat boots, with black jeans and a pretty worn t shirt. His scraggly, dirty-blonde hair fell below the shoulders, emulating Kurt Cobain’s flow but with a fair bit more volume and a frizzy, Arkansas’d-out look to it, if that makes any sense. If you didn’t know any better, you’d figure he was a musician, but not one trying to look like a musician. My other pal, Jack, was over as well that evening. Jack in his own right is an impressive person – he was one of the best rugby players I’ve shared a field with, as well as a 4.0, award-winning student at the Walton College of Business, and soon after a high-level consultant with Accenture. I put this in context to say that even impressive-guy Jack and I felt a similar aura around Jesse; one that said this guy was different. We also found it refreshing how he didn’t seem to think he was all-that-and-a-bag-of-chips; on the contrary, he simply carried himself as a regular guy doing regular things in Fayetteville. Where Jesse Came From We learned more about Jesse that night – I am a curious person and love to learn about people’s stories, so I tend to ask a lot of questions. I believe that if you’re alive and breathing, you have a story as to how you got there! Digging into Jesse’s story was outright fascinating, in a way you may read about in a fictional telling. He was born and raised in Ozark, Arkansas, which is a teeny, little town right in the middle of the state, not particularly close to Little Rock and not particularly close to Northwest Arkansas, the only “hubs” in the state. To help illustrate in small part the backdrop of Arkansas, allow me to share a quick aside: Much of Arkansas is gorgeous, and as such I used to go on hours-long drives with no destination in mind to explore the hilly back roads while I listened to music. On these drives I gathered new perspective into what life is like for most Americans outside the urban areas – I believe they call this portion of the population “the silent majority”. Nestled within the hills, far removed from grocery stores and restaurants and libraries and shopping malls, are trailer parks at the beds of rivers, and small two-room houses buried in the woods. You also run into the occasional large farm with rolling pastures of land, headed by a big, pretty house. I always found this juxtaposition to the surrounding “poverty” fascinating. As for most of these inhabitants, we don’t hear much about them because their voices aren’t there to be heard; they don’t scroll on social media and broadcast their opinions; they don’t tweet out what they did over the weekend, or post Instagram pictures of what and where they’re eating for breakfast. They are more-or-less off the grid. They aren’t as “connected” to the rest of the world, and that comes with its own sets of positives and negatives. While I’ve never been to Ozark, Arkansas specifically, what I’ve gathered through Jesse and through my own findings is this aforementioned environment is essentially the same as where he grew up. I remember we once went to a Wendy’s, and Jesse had said it was the first time he’d ever had fast food. Facetious or not, I felt that said a good bit about life in his hometown. Arkansas may not carry a glowing reputation around the country, but it’s not for lack of beauty or natural resources. In fact, the state of Arkansas is home to the highest concentration of minable diamonds in North America, and one of the highest in the world. If we think about “finding diamonds in the rough”, Jesse Wells is no exception. He is a true gem from an unlikely source, which breeds a raw authenticity in his music, his voice, and his lyrics. Showing Us New Tunes So as we smoked that hash oil and Jesse got to talking about feeling like a vessel for the marijuana, we could do little more than chuckle and agree. We came inside shortly afterwards, and Jesse asked if we’d mind if he showed us a new song he made that day, clearly proud of his work but curious for some feedback. With no hesitation, I said yes and he hooked his phone up to my sound system and hit play. The song he played was a tune called “should i be in pain”, and it instantly captured my attention. Where Cosmic American was a purer rock and roll sound, Jesse’s solo work on this track infused a Beatles-esque songwriting quality with appropriately heavy-hitting rock elements. The song had a wonderfully psychedelic nature to it, though without any “laser-like” sounds or other synth components you normally associate with psych-rock. He also surprises the listener with a killer guitar solo which comes across like a Southern Americana love-child of Rod Stewart and T.Rex. It’s wonderful. When Jesse played that for us, my perception of him began morphing from “I want to hear this guy’s tunes” to “I need to hear this guy’s tunes.” I asked him if he had any others he could show and he chose to play one more; understandably, he didn’t want to make the night all about himself so he said this was the last one he was gonna show us. I most certainly wouldn’t have minded listening to his music all night, but I understood. Before he played his next song, named “it’s alright”, he said, “This song’s about smoking weed.” This was a far more bluesy track, yet it still commanded a level of psychedelia that belied the blues genre. Again, it was another killer jam with catchy, witty lyrics, and exceptional guitar work. Worth noting as well was the outstanding work on the bass and the drums, prompting me to ask, “Who’s the drummer and who’s the bass player?” “Both me bud.” Of course it was. I was beginning to think this guy might have a prodigious nature to him. Jesse went home that night, back to “Space Mountain”, which we learned was an abandoned art compound where he used to live, write, and record all his music. Pretty damn cool. Getting Hooked I simply had to get Jesse’s music into my starting lineup, one way or another. Fortunately, he soon thereafter released an album called “pall mall church” on Bandcamp, which was free to stream and available to download if you paid any price. You could literally pay $1 and download it to your phone. “pall mall church” is a 14-track LP that contained each of the two songs Jesse had shown us at our apartment weeks before. I was chuffed to have access to his record and started listening to it non-stop on repeat. It was sensational, start to finish. I had to text my mom and tell her she needs to listen to it. My mom is a hard-core music head, and a particularly hard rocker at that; she knows good music, and she knows it well. Her flavor of the season at that time was Brian Jonestown Massacre (who are incredible btw), and we’d been listening to the hell out of BJM in those days. I told her I didn’t mean to overhype this new artist I’d met, but I felt like Jesse’s album “pall mall church” was like a blend of Brian Jonestown, T.Rex, and a handful of other great artists. My mother quickly became hooked on Jesse too. Like me, she dove in headfirst. But unlike my frugal college ass, my mom was responsible and actually paid $30 or something for the album on Bandcamp in an effort to support Jesse. I never paid for it – again, stupid. I’ll get to that in a minute. Moving to Nashville Jesse came back over to our apartment again at some point, told us he was getting signed to a record label, and would be moving out to Nashville. I won’t disclose what he said the offer from the label was, but at the time it seemed like a huge amount of money, especially to a young guy from Ozark, Arkansas. This was exciting, but it meant Jesse wouldn’t be around to play in Fayetteville anymore. It appeared I had missed my chance to see one of his shows. That sucked. What came with the move to the record label was also a painful reality: all of Jesse’s music from Bandcamp was scrubbed, and since I hadn’t paid for and downloaded the album, I officially lost access to the masterpiece of work that was “pall mall church”. What a punch in the gut. I’d surely listened to it no less than 75 times at that point. Thankfully, however, my responsible mother had paid for it, and I was able to log into her Bandcamp account and retain access to the tunes. Phew. Another reality then set in as well: big label bullshit. Big wig record producers began insisting they knew better than Jesse how to publish his music and make it “better”. When Jesse moved to Nashville, he linked up with a famous(ish) producer named Dave Cobb, and the label also paired him up with two other musicians to form the band “Welles”. For marketing purposes, they changed his last name from Wells to Welles, which I’ll admit does look a little better. Look is one thing, sound is another. Instead of permitting Jesse to produce all his own music as he’d done in the past, the record company took greater ownership over production and composition. They had a narrow vision of who they wanted Jesse to be, which was a stadium-rocking, Axel Rose, Brett Michaels kind of performer. Alright, Brett Michaels is a stretch because Poison was crap, but they wanted him to be the sort of musician that “embodies the rock and roll image”, as if he was a front man for Def Leppard in the 80s. Don’t get me wrong, Jesse was still writing the songs, and the album he recorded, “Red Trees and White Trashes”, is really good. But where “pall mall church” had such a unique sound and style to it, “Red Trees and White Trashes” was closer to the garden variety “big rock” sound you hear from groups like a Greta Van Fleet or a Highly Suspect. The sound is fun, but it lacks that level of intimate authenticity you may hear from a Tyler Childers, or a Courtney Barnett. Going on Tour In the Nashville days, Jesse might’ve been handcuffed to the label, but with that came some pretty sweet touring opportunities. He opened for Greta Van Fleet and Highly Suspect, as well as Royal Blood and the Regrettes, the latter two of which I’ve become extremely fond of myself. Jesse also came back and did some shows in Fayetteville, so I got to see him perform after all. As you could’ve guessed, these shows were exceptional. I remember one time in 2018 just before Christmas, I went to his show at Antone’s in Austin and brought along two of my buddies. The show was killer, then afterwards Jesse brought us upstairs while the Regrettes played (who at 17 years old were already great in their own right). During the show before his, Jesse had decided to write and record a song in one of the venue’s little studio rooms upstairs. It only took him an hour! He offered to show us what he was working on, so we took turns putting on the big over-ear headphones and were all blown away. How on earth did he just slap together something so good in a matter of 60 min? Again, I thought this guy must be prodigious. Diving Deeper Into the Catalog Around this same time, Jesse gave me a private Soundcloud link to another album he’d written and recorded by himself, called “space camp summer 18”. I suppose it was some kind of thanks for supporting him and for being an early super-fan – I certainly wasn’t the first big fan, but at the time there weren’t many of us. “space camp” was outstanding, just like “pall mall church” before that. Where “pall mall church” had more of a gritty psychedelic flavor to it, “space camp” was a rock and roll record in nature, full of splendid songwriting and the typically cutting wit that characterizes Jesse’s lyrics. By now, I’d started getting more people hooked on Jesse. Not as many as I’d have liked, but the people who “got it”, got it, like my buddy Kyle. I must have played Jesse’s tunes for 75 different people at least, and while most agreed he was very good, they weren’t hooked in the way I was. Whatever, I didn’t mind. I badly wanted Jesse to make it big, but as long as he was still making music and doing what he loved, I was happy enough to be alive and able to catch his tunes while he was still making them. Breaking Free, but Nearly Broke In his time at the record label and in Nashville, Jesse never did “make it” commercially. From my point of view, they tried turning him into something he wasn’t, they crippled his ability to record the way he wanted to record, and they robbed the public of a genuine diamond in the rough. At some point, right around the start of covid, Jesse freed himself from the shackles of the record industry and returned to doing it all himself. As liberating as that must’ve been, it did mean he was forced into the grind. It was challenging and would’ve been easy for a lot of people to throw in the towel and give up on music. Thankfully, Jesse isn’t a lot of people. During this period, Jesse got a job packing meat and started a Patreon account on the side as a medium to continue releasing music to dedicated fans. You could imagine this wasn’t a wildly lucrative time, but folks with a real passion for something never seem to abandon what they love over a few extra bucks. The Patreon & Bandcamp (Part II) Era So Patreon it was. Here he shared recorded tracks, live performances, and even podcasting content. My word, there was some brilliant stuff on there. Vowing to never repeat the mistake of not paying for the rights to hear his music, I committed to paying $30 a month for full access to his Patreon. That was an excellent decision. Jesse also started releasing EPs every 6 months or so to Bandcamp, and once again I paid for and downloaded those in earnest. I can only say that if you’re a music fan, you simply have to listen to these EPs and gain a real appreciation for Jesse’s musical ability, his versatility, and his astoundingly prolific songwriting prowess. The first EP during covid was an Americana record named “Q2”. This bad boy has excellent guitar work, really poignant lyrics, and a “soul” which was so needed during the sad and confusing early days of Covid. The next EP was a jazz record by the name of “non essential business”, and while it’s super well done, jazz is just not my style so I never really listened to it. After that was a magnificent heavy rock EP that even Black Sabbath would be proud of, dubbed “Joe Dirt Cobain”. This was my personal favorite of the three. He also released a sweet cover of the Beatles’ “Don’t Let Me Down” for good measure, and recorded a smattering of singles in collaboration with other artists. After three strong EPs, Jesse then graced the Apple Music / Spotify airways with a surprise second LP called “Arkancide”. I could draft a full album review, and maybe I will eventually, but take my word for it when I say it’s excellent and should be listened to over and over again. Oddly enough, this LP was taken down from Apple Music, but you can find it on Bandcamp, along with those other three EPs. Don’t forget to pay! After Arkancide, Jesse dropped Arkancide 2 and Arkancide 3, each of which are top drawer as well. Small Town Return, Big Time Success To this point in the story, Jesse’s musical talents remained mysteriously unheralded, but as a great friend of mine likes to say, “Consistent, quality work can’t be denied.” Jesse continued to publish consistent, quality work, and it was only a matter of time before people would one day discover and marvel at his catalog of music. Then, all of a sudden, it happened. For hundreds of thousands of new fans out there, the rest is well-documented history. At long last, Jesse has broken through to the masses and is in many circles being dubbed as 2024’s breakout artist; even Dave Matthews introduced him at the Farm Aid music festival as “one of the greatest songwriters I’ve heard in my life.” Ironically, after all that travel, all the touring, the record labeling, the self-recording and producing, the radio play, the music videos, and the corporate promotion, Jesse’s breakthrough came in the simplest form: solo-performing dozens of songs from his catalog in the backwoods of his hometown, equipped with nothing more than an acoustic guitar, a harp, and a camera. Through extraordinary talent, wit, creativity, and authenticity, Jesse Wells is beginning to inspire an entire generation of people to remember there is still hope for greatness, hope for change, and hope for something “real” in a society which grows increasingly artificial by the year. He may be a vessel for the marijuana, but he’s also a vessel for God’s gift of music.