Jesse Dayton - Beaumonster

U nless youre a tried-and-true, longtime cult follower of my solo records, my guitar session work, the hundred-plus annual shows Ive been playing globally nonstop for thirty years, my film and TV work, or lastly, a fan of my online rants and writings, then youre probably screaming to your wife or husband, or significant other in the next room over, Why in the hell is Jesse Dayton writing a book?

As the kids say today for their online relationship status, Its complicated. For a working-class kid from the Texas/Louisiana area of Beaumont, Texas, Im probably one of the only Beaumonsters (a term that I may have coined one drunken night at a wrap party of a horror film I directed, but now affectionately use to refer to all people from my hometown of Beaumont) whos had these types of brushes with people I would refer to as artists. Thats not a brag, just a lonely fact, considering where Im from.

My hometown is not the same place it was when I grew up there. More retail shops, more college grads, more people, and more of everything, like the rest of the planet is now. Then it was known for breeding high volumes of oil roughnecks, offshore rig workers, petrochemical plant workers, a few pro athletes, rodeo cowboys, notorious criminals, a few country singers and blues musicians, and some of the best damn working-class folks on the planet. And its still that way today. But I knew at a young age Id have to move to Austin to find like-minded weirdos. Most Texans who move to Austin are in fact weirdos who at some point stopped feeling like we were home in our hometowns. On some of the gigs or jobs in this book, its true that I didnt always feel like I was worthy of these situations, but I was raised well enough by my mama, Glenda Faye, and daddy, Robert Earl, to shut off the Shitty Committee in my head (thats what I call my inner critic, which is more like a whole chorus of critics, and they suck) long enough to man up and do what I think was, most of the time, good work.

Just for the record (as I say often throughout this book) about what even I think is a bizarre career, Ive somehow kept my expectations low enough and my standards high enough to not completely shit the bed while working with folks Ive admired, some since childhood. Ultimately, thats what this book is about. Admiration. Theres no one in these pages whom I throw under the bus, except myself. So, if youre looking for dirt on famous people, you wont find any here. What you will find are my own stupid mistakes and my sometimes squirrely, sometimes failing horribly, occasionally clean striving for greatness.

As someone whos been directly involved with some of the greats and up-and-coming masters of American music, film, politics, business, and barroom philosophy, but has never once thought of himself as one, I got the notion that a book of behind-the-scenes stories might give the folks, as we say in Texas, something to chew on.

This book came about via my online rants. My friend, and now literary agent, Rynda Laurel, was the first one who noticed my online stories about folks Ive worked with, takes on political, social, and cultural issues, and of course baseball, and God-knows-what-else and said, You need to write a book, JD. Throughout my life Ive written plays, short stories, film scripts, the online rants, and most important, songs, day in and day out, so it wasnt completely out of the question. Writing is blue-collar work, and I get up pretty much every morning and put my tool belt on and just do it. Just write. Tip for all you grinding hustlers out there: dont dumb your voice down on social media or, to use that godforsaken word, content. Dont neuter your voice. If its real (being good is something else), those friends you lose youll make up for tenfold with new friends and hey, ya may even get offered a book deal.

I didnt cowrite this book with the help of another writer, although Im sure there will be some writers who think I should have. By the way, writers are very similar to guitar players and actors. They all have that voice in the back of their head saying, I wouldnt have done it that way. I know because Im a guitar player/actor/writer who is constantly telling that voice, sometimes screaming at that voice, For Christs sake, would you just shut the fuck up? After thirty-plus years of making my mortgage and monthly nut, and saving enough at my local credit union in Austin, Texas, as a traveling minstrel and chronicler of life as I see it, well, Ive built up enough alligator skin to at least sleep well enough through the blessings of my let the chips fall where they may meditation mantra. That seems to help me postpone my ongoing fight with my brain, at least until the next morning begins.

Yep, that aint no bullshit when folks say, The struggle is real. Its real for all of us, and even for the legends in this book who seem to have simultaneously had a charmed existence and what Buck Owens called A Tiger by the Tail at the same time. And because Ive seen and admired how others have handled it all, this book is a lot more about fighting through my shitty internal monologue and trying to make lemonade out of lemons than it is a tell-all book about famous people. And while some of the folks in the book were merely passing through my life and some have remained good friends, all of them were and still are an inspiration to me when it comes to knowing how to navigate through this temporary journey were on.