CITYist

When Jim Jones, the lead singer and guitarist of the British band Jim Jones Revue, stepped up to immigration on his way to Austin, Texas to play the South by Southwest Music Festival, he didn’t get the usual inquiries of reason and length of stay. “Have you brought any Kool-Aid with you?” the customs officer asked instead.

No, Jim Jones Revue is not a tribute band to the cult leader who led hundreds to suicide in 1978. Rather, they are the latest in a long tradition of white British guys obsessed with black American music. The Beatles did it, then the Stones, Cream and Deep Purple, and now The Jim Jones Revue.

In a time of Auto-Tune and slick production where rock ‘n’ roll is a product more than anything else, JJR is singing about Birmingham and beehives as if it were 1958. And to the band members, Jim Jones, guitarist Rupert Orton, pianist Elliot Mortimer, bassist Gavin Jay and drummer Nick Jones, it may as well be. The band was founded on the desire to recreate the revolutionary sound of Little Richard, Elvis and Chuck Berry. Throw in some Chess Records, some Jerry Lee Lewis and a healthy dose of New York punk—say, The Ramones and the New York Dolls—and you’ve got the Jim Jones Revue. And to Jones and Orton, the driving forces of the band, this passing along of the rock ‘n’ roll baton is nothing short of magical.

“You can see where that ‘genie in a bottle’ kind of rock ‘n’ roll music, how it changed hands,” says Jim. “There’s something about this project, The Jim Jones Revue—I’ve kind of got that feeling like I’m putting another dot down.”

He’s not the only one. At SXSW, the band’s American debut, hardened rock heavyweights such as Lenny Kaye, Kid Congo and BP Fallon turned out to show their support. The performance was a trial run in the States before the band’s self-titled album release and their second U.S. stint of New York shows in July. Spin magazine also took notice, declaring it one of the “50 must-hear bands.”

Both Jones and Orton have paid their dues on the London rock scene: Orton doubles as a concert promoter/record label runner, and Jim played in The Hypnotics and Black Moses. They count their years of playing in bands on both hands. This kind of experience, even in a creative industry considered unstable, volatile or even frivolous, nonetheless amounts to sheer professionalism. Touring for one third of the year? No problem. Visiting nearly every Western European country, including all of Scandinavia, the UK, Italy, Germany, Belgium, Holland, France and Spain in one year? Arriving home from the States at seven a.m. and then playing the first leg of a British tour that afternoon? All part of the job.

So if they ever seem a bit disoriented, you can be sure it’s sleep deprivation, not classic rock ‘n’ roll inebriation. In Jones’ words, they’ve all “been around the block,” and scoff at the idea of being rock stars. Even after three years, neither Jones nor Orton has a crazy tour story in their back pocket.

“We’ve done that kind of get fucked up thing, and there isn’t any room for it,” says Jones. “There isn’t any room for passengers in this group— it’s quite lean, everyone knows what they’re doing…. That’s the only way it can function really. It’s not boy’s music. It’s men’s music.”

It may be men’s music now, but it’s rooted in the music they were first exposed to in childhood. “Ever since I can remember growing up, me and my friends have always listened to American music. I think it’s part of the British psyche,” says Orton. Little Richard holds a particular fascination for them. “Here’s this guy in one of the most racist times and places, New Orleans, and he’d come onstage with his hair eight, ten inches above his head all kind of ratcheted up, and covered in makeup, and pounding on the piano and screaming about sex? You know, this gay black man? It’s such a powerful kind of image,” says Jones.

The image was so powerful, in fact, that it served as the basis for their decision to start a band. “We’d have a chat and be like, ‘Where is that band that’s going to blow our heads off?’” Orton remembers. “So we decided to do it ourselves.”

If a band’s audience is any indication, then they’re doing a rather good job. A typical JJR show covers quite a cross section, from girls “boogying” in front, guys moshing and “going absolutely mental,” and to the over 50 set, who come over after the show to reminisce about seeing Jerry Lee Lewis in 1961. But it’s the young people who truly feel the original spirit.

“For them, it’s kind of a revolutionary sound, what they’re hearing—which is ironic because that’s what it was originally,” says Orton. Revolutionary, mystical, magical—these are all words Jones and Orton use to describe their musical endeavor. “All of these musical styles kind of collided…. The blues guys, the hillbilly guys—everyone seemed to be crossing over at that time in the mid 50s. You can hear all those strains of black and white music,” says Jim. “When you think about it, it was probably the most revolutionary time… before they got hijacked by the record companies and it became a whole commodity thing.”

A melting pot of musical influences that could only take place at a precise moment, with precise participants? An audience electrified by the sound of anarchy in the face of store-bought songwriting and saccharine pop tunes? They may as well be talking about The Jim Jones Revue.