We’ve all been in a horrible emotional state and turned on a song as a coping mechanism. We know that song won’t solve the situation, whatever it is, or even modify our feelings. However, the music we listen to when we are hurting can be a comforting presence. For many Americans today, Jelly Roll’s music does the trick.
Jelly’s real name is Jason DeFord, and he is from Antioch, Tennessee. He’s 39 years old, muscular (though he’s trying to shed weight), and his face is covered with tattoos. In a sign of the range of his audience, he has scored on the country, rock, and pop charts with big singles like “Need a Favor” and albums like 2023’s “Whitsitt Chapel.” His southern-rock and hip-hop-inflected country songs are almost entirely about grasping for some kind of security, an experience that shapes much of his music since he is intimately familiar with it. Jelly had been in and out of prison since he was a teenager and continued into his mid-20s. He has experienced personal loss and substance abuse, both his own and that of his teenage daughter’s mother. He has also grappled with the professional anguish of a long, unsuccessful career as an aspiring rapper. But that was before he shifted to singing and began to gain popularity in 2021.
The artist — one half of a down-home power couple with his wife, Bunnie Xo, who runs the popular Dumb Blonde podcast — will embark on a cross-country arena tour later this month. He also has a new, widely anticipated album, “Beautifully Broken,” set for release this autumn. He is, by any standard, a star — yet he’s still figuring out what that means.
Can you tell us about some of the things fans have told you? I have heard it all, Bubba. I’ve heard everything, from “Your music was played at my daughter’s funeral; she had an accidental overdose” through “Your song helped me get through rehab; I listened to ‘Save Me’ on repeat for 30 days straight.” For example, “It was our morning song before we did our gratitude list.” Yes, including funerals, hospitals, and treatment facilities. I’ve also heard excellent stories like, “I got sober.” The variety of emotions is astounding.
Is it difficult for you to be the recipient of that? Nah, I feel honored to have a purpose. I spent so much of my life being counterproductive to society that being in a position where I can help others has radically transformed my mindset.
It never feels like fans are expecting more from you than you can provide. This happens outside of fans telling me their stories. I’ll cry with a fan in Aisle 3 of a grocery store over a very cathartic story, and I’ll drive away feeling better about my life. But I notice a missed email from a friend saying, “Hey, you’ve been blowing me off for five months”; they’re kind of laying on me. It harms your feelings. Because you’re like, “You don’t understand where I am in my life right now.” I just have to be honest and tell that my only priorities are my music and my immediate family. That is all I have time for. That has cost me many friendships.
I’d like to ask you about your wife. I saw something online where she was celebrating her one-year anniversary of being able to quit sex work. She claimed you two used to talk, and you stated something like, “One day you won’t have to do this kind of work anymore.” Do you recall when that day arrived? We had the chat early on, when we were dreamers laying in bed together, and I was really broke and she was also quite broke. That was our dream. Seeing it come to fruition has been incredible. This is a modern American fairy tale. It’s a white trash song, yet it’s poetic and lovely in this [expletive] up way.
But was there a time when she told you, “I don’t have to do that work anymore”? Even when Bunnie wrote that, I was like, “Yo, you know that was two or three years ago now.” I believe she was having a vulnerable moment, saying, “It feels like it’s been a year since I walked away.” David, we have also been in a vortex. You must remember that the days and nights are beginning to blend together. The idea that I released [the song] “Son of a Sinner” in 2021 amazes me.
I was emailed eight or nine of your latest tunes. They are about Jelly Roll subjects, such as addiction and adversity. Is it more difficult to come up with that kind of material now that your life is on track? First and foremost, I hear these stories every night. I understand what the songs are doing for people. What I believed was just my experience quickly became the tale of tens of millions. It goes deeper than my tale. This is the story of my child’s mother, who is still in and out of jail and dealing with addiction. [Jelly Roll’s daughter’s mother was unavailable for comment.] That’s how close this is to my house, regardless of its size. I still have family members who recently completed rehab. Consider this perspective: I lived a really [expletive] existence for 20 years. For the past 24 months, I’ve had a very incredible existence. I am still catching up.
How have you talked to your children about your time in and out of prison? I’ve always been honest. My oldest, Bailee, was different because of what her mother was going through. I tried to explain addiction to an 8-year-old without using terms like “addiction” or “drugs.”
I haven’t. The oddest thing occurs, guy. Someone you’ve known all your life transforms into a different person. I’ve had it happen to baby-mothers, cousins, and biological brothers. It is incredible what it does. We tried to convey that your mother is having trouble with something medically related.
The new record will be released in the fall. How do you see it bringing the Jelly Roll plot forward? I don’t think about being in Act 2. Right now, we’re just trying to reach as many people as possible while God gives us a platform. In addition, I don’t know myself. I’m not sure how I’ll feel after doing this for a few more years, or what God will send my way. I might attend college. I started with nothing, guy! I could like to learn something. I might come intern with you for a year! I do not know. I am seeking for songs with a purpose. When I go to release a song under the moniker Jelly Roll, I ask myself, Why? Because, for the first time in my life, it is unrelated to a financial decision. I’m well past the point of putting out anything for money. So, now there is a why. Songs like “Winning Streak” explain why.
That is from the new album. “Winning Streak” portrays someone attending an AA meeting in a church basement. Have you ever struggled with alcohol addiction? Or do you play a character in that song? I was writing about a true story that I witnessed. So I’m sitting at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, and my arrangement is that I’ll have a drink now and then, and I’m a known cannabis smoker, but I stopped using substances that I knew were going to kill me. It was quite difficult for me to get away from those medicines. To maintain my relationship with the drugs, I continue to attend meetings but never share. I just sit silently and appreciate the message and its significance. This is the first time I’ve spoken about it publicly. I don’t tell folks I attend meetings. So I simply sit and watch as this kid goes through it. You can tell. One of the old men sitting in there said, “Look, man. It’s all good. Nobody came here with a winning streak.” There it was. That marked the beginning of “Winning Streak.”
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You started out as a rapper and just began singing. People continue to criticize you online, claiming that you are not really country. Why does the country world seem to be so concerned with who is truly country and who is not? I doubt they care as much as we assume. I believe it is the textbook story of America right now. We pay closer attention to smaller groups of people than to bigger groupings. Really, 95 percent of the people agree, but we’re going to live and die by the five. Duplicate it in every aspect of being an American, and we wonder why the country is so dysfunctional. But this is an age-old story that applies to every genre. Man, I’m going to be in trouble: the problem with rock and roll was that they allowed the same problem to result in 30 subgenres.
Describe what you mean. It was just rock and roll until they started saying, “Well, this is heavy, this isn’t heavy; this is more classic.” They began putting rock & roll in 30 different boxes, making it difficult to follow. Country music has always been diverse. Instead of subgenres, they’ve said, “We just accept the diversity of country music wherever it is.” Country music right now is somewhere between Colter Wall, Tyler Childers, Post Malone, Brandi Carlile, Sturgill Simpson, Morgan Wallen, and Zach Bryan. This is the beauty of country music. It’s always been that wide.
So why couldn’t Beyoncé be played on country radio? Now you’re trying to fit a whole genre into one aspect of what it accomplishes. I can assure you she dominated streaming and algorithmic radio with that album.
However, country radio programmers did not pick it up as much. Yes, but consider this: Is it her actions that allowed Shaboozey to reach No. 5 on country radio? [Shaboozey actually got it to number one.] There’s always someone pushing it a little farther. One might say that Willie [Nelson] and Merle [Haggard] — Johnny Cash had to walk before they could run. One may argue that Beyoncé had to crawl so Shaboozey could walk.
I wish to return to your problems. You were first incarcerated around the age of 14? Yes, Sir. It could go back a year before that. As a kid, I was arrested in Antioch for possessing cannabis and a pack of cigarettes. They cited me, and the cop trusted me to take the citation to my family and appear in court. [Laughs.] Which, of course, I did not. So the cops had to show up and take me to jail. That happened at the age of thirteen. At 14, I believe it was a playground brawl.
You were in and out of prison until you were about 25, when, as popularly depicted in the Jelly Roll narrative, you were inside and someone informed you that your daughter had been born, which was your revelation. You said, “I have to change my life.” But was there anything anyone could have done before then to affect your path? I am not sure. I’m learning to forgive myself for decisions I made when I was younger. They were wrong, and I knew it, yet I was carrying them out with pride and enthusiasm. But I’m trying to allow myself the grace to look back and say, “I was 15. “I was very young.” To be honest, I’m not sure what could’ve helped me.
So why couldn’t Beyoncé be played on country radio?
Now you’re trying to fit a whole genre into one aspect of what it accomplishes. I can assure you she dominated streaming and algorithmic radio with that album.
However, country radio programmers did not pick it up as much.
Yes, but consider this: Is it her actions that allowed Shaboozey to reach No. 5 on country radio? [Shaboozey actually got it to number one.] There’s always someone pushing it a little farther. One might say that Willie [Nelson] and Merle [Haggard] — Johnny Cash had to walk before they could run. One may argue that Beyoncé had to crawl so Shaboozey could walk.
I wish to return to your problems. You were first incarcerated around the age of 14?
Yes, Sir. It could go back a year before that. As a kid, I was arrested in Antioch for possessing cannabis and a pack of cigarettes. They cited me, and the cop trusted me to take the citation to my family and appear in court. [Laughs.] Which, of course, I did not. So the cops had to show up and take me to jail. That happened at the age of thirteen. At 14, I believe it was a playground brawl