Vancouver’s rising star Jesso praised by Adele
TORONTO — On his acclaimed debut Goon, Vancouver’s Tobias Jesso, Jr. is the emotionally plain-spoken piano troubadour so brittle he might break.
On the phone to discuss his album, however, he’s all off-centre cheer, marvelling at his “insane” schedule and the team of people that has suddenly sprung up around him.
“I feel like Entourage but a lot more busy, with a lot less women,” joked Jesso, 29.
Chatting about his charmed run as he’s whisked around L.A., it starts to feel like he’s on an unlikely victory lap in a city that once had no time for him.
He initially moved there in 2008, hired by pop hopeful Melissa Cavatti. That went bust, but Jesso stayed, hoping to find success ghost-composing for other artists. That mission also failed. What happened next is now Jesso lore: he got hit by a car, his mother got cancer, and he moved back home nursing wounds both literal and figurative.
“Imagine being on American Idol for four years … and in the end, losing,” said Jesso, whose mother recovered.
“And I go home and all my friends know I’ve lost.”
But Jesso kept writing songs, shifting from guitar to piano in the process. As a lark, he sent one of his new compositions — Just a Dream — to Girls producer Chet (JR) White.
Impressed, White ultimately wound up on a team of producers who moulded Goon, including the Black Keys’ Patrick Carney and Ariel Rechtshaid.
Together, they worked hard to maintain the fragile appeal of Jesso’s Prairies-bare demos. The resulting record has won rave reviews, with Pitchfork standing as a particularly enthusiastic early adopter of Jesso’s gossamer ’70s-indebted piano pop.
He’s performed on Conan and the Tonight Show, but perhaps his most awe-inspiring endorsement came from Adele, who tweeted a link to his “fantastic” How Could You Babe — one of only two tweets she’s sent out all year.
Jesso’s astonished by the support, particularly because he didn’t foresee young people necessarily digging piano ballads.
“Imagine if the music business is a big hotel,” he said.
“Adele’s living in the penthouse. Then you’ve got all the pop artists on the top floors, and you’ve got different genres in different rooms.
“I imagine myself being in the janitor’s closet somewhere on the ground floor. But at least it’s my own room.”
As irreverent responses like that make clear, there’s a canyon’s width between the lovesick dreamer on Goon and this giggling, gangly jester.
“I write a lot of sad songs, but I don’t think I’ve had a friend think I’m sad in my entire life,” he said.
“I’m not the type of guy who’s sad throughout the day, so when something does make me sad, I can usually figure out exactly what it is and write about it.”
Such excursions into ennui haven’t happened much lately.
He’s gleefully unsure what the future holds — looking forward even a month is beyond his grasp, given his “unfathomable” recent life changes.
“I told my mom, ‘It seems like things are working out.... People seem to like [the record] and I won’t need to borrow money for maybe the next couple years,”’ he said.