If folk-punk poetry had a name it would be Stephen Jaymes.  His journey from a musically diverse upbringing north of Detroit to none other than Harvard University has given him enough insight and experience to create music that is as much a rock ‘n roll anthem as it is an ode to 60s folk rock. With recent singles like "Chief Inspector" and "Tokyo”, Stephen Jaymes is poised to make waves once again with his new single “Virus Vaccine.” We interview him on the new single and his journey thus far, below. 

"Virus Vaccine" some might be surprised to find out, is not actually about Covid-19 or any virus. Actually, in an unexpected twist you’ve used a virus as a metaphor for personal growth. Can you tell us more about the inspiration behind this approach and how it relates to your own experiences?

One of the big debates during the Covid lockdowns was over herd immunity. When do you get it, how does it work, should you rely on it. I was fascinated by the strong impulse to just subject yourself to something so you’d get over it, even if you weren’t sure of the consequences. It reminded me a lot of exposure therapy, where patients with phobias are systematically exposed to their triggers until they are ‘cured’. We played this up in the video, where I pretend to have a phobia of mirrors. Of course, herd immunity exists for some things, and exposure therapy works for some things, but by and large it’s in our best interest to stay away from things that are bad for us.

So to head straight for it takes a kind of courage, and this courage can seem comical when misapplied. Virus Vaccine, at its core, is about a person who wrongly believes the psychological fears and hangups their partner’s behavior triggers in them can be overcome by continuing to spend time with the partner. They’re in awful pain, but they’re certain that they will evolve out of it. They’re determined to make their soul ‘fixable’ with a no-pain-no-gain attitude. But you can’t gain immunity to legitimate psychological triggers, and you can’t evolve out of yourself. It’s self-help gone horribly wrong, which I find funny.

Your music draws from a wide range of influences, from '60s folk to punk rock, which is impressive! How do you manage to blend these seemingly totally different genres into a cohesive sound?

I submit to the unconscious prompts willingly. Stuff just bubbles up and I hum or sing it. No questions asked, no ID required, come in and I’ll sing you and see where it goes. I used to want to sound like this band or that songwriter, but now I just want to capture the inspiration before it evaporates. And that inspiration comes from a big blender of influences. When you stop pushing yourself toward a certain ‘outside’ sound and find your true inner sound - which is a really, really hard thing to accomplish - your influences become equalized.

I took banjo lessons before I played the guitar, and piano before that. I was lucky to have been played classical music as a baby (the 70s were so hip on child development!), then heard all the 60s folk records from my dad’s collection, then the Beatles, punk, and New Wave thanks to my brothers, and on to so much other stuff. All the while I was listening to radio hits by myself and forming my own tastes. But you internalize the music you love, it becomes a part of your DNA, especially if you sing it and play it yourself and don’t just listen.

You make it your own, and then it mixes with all the other stuff you’ve made your own, and if you’re lucky you don’t notice the shoulders you’re standing on. I try not to think about my sources and references when the song is taking shape. Often I’ll notice that I was riffing on a certain song or lick later, when I have some distance.

You’ve talked about taking a “self-imposed hiatus” and that it allowed you to explore digital home recording. How has that time away, and learning these new tools influenced your music, and what can fans expect from your upcoming debut full-length album?

The ‘time away’ (this is funny, it makes me sound like I have a James Taylor institutionalization story) was at root a deep desire to not share what was developing. I’m like a musical Benjamin Button. I’ll have my peak year when I’m 90, if there’s anything left to plug into by then. I got back into recording in the last few years, and I’ve found it really rewarding. But before that I was like a monk about it - no multitracking, just songwriting notes. Imagine a future me went back to a past me and said, wait until this time before you try to do any more than just learn how to write your own songs. It’s like that.

I had to wait, and I don’t know why, but now the wait’s over. The question now is, after three (four soon) singles this year that all sound very different, what will my album next year sound like? It would be pretty funny if it were Kraftwerk-inspired instrumental meditations. The final single of the year that comes out next, Damn the Judgment, harkens back sonically to the first song I released widely, Sweet Violin. It might be pointing the way. Honestly, it’s always a surprise to me what the final result is. I look forward to finding out. At the moment I’m still wondering what the Damn the Judgment video will look like.

Back to "Virus Vaccine," you explore the theme of self-administered cures, and the video is an extension of this. What do you believe drives us to take such unconventional paths toward personal growth, and how have you seen this universal experience play out?

I think we are blunted by modern life. The lucky among us Earthlings have all the conveniences, and then watch the nicest actor in Hollywood shoot a bunch of people in the head for entertainment. We’re very uncomfortably numb, jumpy, looking for the next answer. We’re also really divorced from our real feelings, most of us. So one way to wake yourself up is to hurt yourself. If you do this in a serious or antisocial way, we understand it to be harmful. But if you channel that urge to hurt yourself through a self-help narrative, and make it clear that you are punishing yourself to achieve transformation, we accept it. Applaud it.

So in many ways we’re driven to sublimate this darker urge into wilder and wilder self-help schemes. Painful diets are a great example, punishing workout routines. We live in a tough guy culture, so this tough guy act plays well. But we really have no clue what’s good for us in the end, and we’re terrible at keeping track long-term. So ultimately the pain becomes the sign of achievement, and we forget about asking whether it helped us in any meaningful way. Fetishizing pain without measuring the gain is a recipe for rich tragicomedy. 

Something I love about your music is all the punk rock nostalgia. Who are a few of your favorite bands of the era?

Thanks! I have a very special relationship to the Ramones. It’s fascinating watching them go through cycles of cultural ascension, and kids wearing Ramones t-shirts who couldn’t tell them from Sinatra. It’s very cool to like the Ramones right now, and that’s as it should be. May it always be so. But to me, the Ramones hit my kid ear the way Star Wars hit my kid eye. Like a blistering meteor. It was the real deal. I was 8, and it was like sonic candy to me. The Ramones, and Joey’s lyrics specifically, shaped my opinions about so much of what I love about the original punk movement: the anti-corporatism, the openness about being weird and outcast, the wry, self-deprecating sense of humor that just takes the pain away.

That’s my obvious but very heartfelt answer. Another favorite is the Clash, who openly idolized Phil Ochs, who is the original folk-punk archetype. The Stranglers always get me, and I’m a huge fan of the melodic bands like the Buzzcocks and Television. Much later I became obsessed with a certain part of the Stooges oeuvre, but I missed that as a kid. Funny miss, growing up outside Detroit. When I was a kid my brother got a compilation called No Wave. It was the first US album to have the Police and Squeeze songs, but it also had this phenomenal Dickies song called You Drive Me Ape You Big Gorilla. That’s the true stuff right there. Punk was crazy, and outside, but it was fun.

Your lyrics are very clever in the way they dance around important topics and introduce them through catchy music. Could you share a bit about your creative process?

They say go where the song takes you, and sometimes it’s like that. It goes fast, just kind of rushes out. Sometimes it’s more like trying to find the final statue in a block of marble. You have to keep coming back to it and tinkering. What I’ve learned is that if I make time, I will make a song. I am capable of going weeks without playing an instrument, and that’s stupid. I’ll be singing, being creative in that way, making notes on my Apple watch.

But if I sit down at the piano or with the guitar a song will emerge, almost entirely. Not always with lyrics, but often with temp lyrics that help define the rhythm and tone. There’s always a lyrical clue, even if it takes awhile to shape all the lyrics.

What’s next for you?

I’m making the final video of the year, for the next single Damn the Judgment. Each of the videos has been different, though I’ve worked with the same director. We’ve honored the eclectic nature of the songs by producing really different concepts. I want to get this last one right.

After that, I focus on the album and figure out how many are coming from previous ideas and how many still need to be written. Maybe some travel. Some of these songs might have to be written elsewhere. We’ll see. 

Is there anything else you’d like to add?

Yes. If you still haven’t watched Norsemen on Netflix, do yourself a favor. Also, sign up for my newsletter. It’s really easy at my site. And please remember, the punk spirit is not, has never been, and will never (ever) be compatible with profiting off of war. Thank you for listening and may your pets truly, really love you. You’ll know.

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