Skeeter Jackson

Words and Photos By Keith May


“So there I was, dancin’ on Johnson’s grave… Same Robert Johnson, died early age… Sold his soul to a lyin’ cheat… Played guitar like a bitch in heat,” folksinger Skeeter Jackson mumbles in his song, Ants In My Pants. “On that grave was a single rose… There I lyed, in repose… There I was, starin’ at the moon… Did not know ants found me, too.”

“Another true story,” Skeeter admits over cold beers at a dive-bar called The Little Knight in Costa Mesa, California. Thirty miles south of Los Angeles, Costa Mesa is a dirty little beach town with just enough sprawl to piss off the old-timers. In Costa Mesa Song, Skeeter name-checks many of his favorite haunts, including The Little Knight.

“Grants for Guns, El Matador, Chicken Coop, sawdust floors… Goat Hill Tavern, Little Knight… Hey, Tony, another pint.” Tony hasn’t been seen behind the bar at The Knight for years, but remains part of its legend. “Mother’s Market, Hi-Time Cellars, In-N-Out Burger, O.C. Fair…Pierce Street Annex divorcees, Ladies Night on Seventeenth.”

“So, yeah, I was explorin’ the South on a photo-assignment and stumbled across the grave of Robert Johnson behind a small First Baptist in Mississippi. Next thing I knew, was rolling around on the ground, covered in welts, dizzy for an hour.”

There’s a colorful story behind all of Mr. Jackson’s songs but the line between fact and fiction gets blurrier all the time. “Most of these stories are true, but there's no law against embellishing for the sake of a good punchline.”

Dark themes are often delivered from a whimsical point of view. Love and loss delivered with detached irony. Bob Dylan, Merle Hagard, The Monkees. His influences are clear.

“Told me ‘bout his childhood, got stuff off his chest… All I did was listen, enjoyin’ every breath,” Skeeter sings of a visit from the Grim Reaper.”

“Daddy said, Boy, don’t be like your old man… Try to make him proud, if and when I can,” is the chorus of a song for his truck driving father and the similarities that can’t be escaped.

Thousand Dollar Bike is the story-song of a love/hate relationship with a motorcycle. Written while driving down Highway One with a dead bike in the bed of his old Ford Ranger. Skeeter steered with knee while strumming on a ukulele and the words to his first song began to flow. “One kick, two kicks, three kicks go…If she starts, we’ll hit the road…Four kick, five kick, six kicks more… Stop too long, here’s how it goes… Seven kicks, eight kicks, nine kicks more…Step right up, it’s your turn, Bro.”

“Lucia, I wanna free ya, from the loneliness I see in your eyes… Lucia, I wanna meet ya, at a church, where I’ll make you my wife…Lucia, I really need ya, and I hope I can see you tonight," he swoons for an office temp. “She was gone before I even finished the song. She was cute, but the name is what stuck in my head. Lucia. The song wrote itself."

Boo Hoo Hoo is about a son he’s never met. “As far as I know, that one is pure fiction.”

“No cream in my coffee, no gas in my tank… No cash in my pocket, no money in the bank,” he laments in Protest Song.

One Trick Pony, Family Tree, Peach Cobbler, Girl of My Dreams, Jackhammer Blues, Nine Lives, Easy Street, Derby Eyes, Americana, Two-Beer Buzz, Table For One, Sprinkle It With Jesus. All written in the last few years. Before he got the songwriting bug, Skeeter was telling his stories with pictures as a photo-journalist but after a visit to Sun Studios in Memphis, he picked up a uke and began learning traditional folk songs. Soon, he was writing his own. When friends dismissed the ukulele as a toy, he picked up a guitar.

“Livin’, lovin’ on The Mother Road… All you need is a name like Joad… Beer, coffee, cherry pie… Every day, the Fourth of July,” Skeeter sings in Savin’ Myself For You. “Hopin, prayin’ gotta believe… you’re savin’ yourself for me.”

But in Night Rider, a lurid side of Skeeter is revealed. “Can’t catch me, drive so fast… No one rides free, it’s gas, grass, or ass.”

Ukulele, Spanish Guitar and hollow-bodied electric are Skeeter’s traveling companions. Preferring to travel light, a small Roland Street Cube provides the modest amplification for truckstop performances. “It’s really just a crazy excuse to travel while looking for photo-ops."

And, if you're Skeeter Jackson, that all makes sense.

You can listen to Skeeter here... http://soundcloud.com/skeeter-jackson

Or, hear a few samples here...