Musical Masterminds are from New Jersey: an Afternoon with Joe P

By Julia Norkus

Image courtesy of Joe P.

In the early afternoon of February 11, 2022, I had the opportunity to call musician and king of cosmic perspective Joe P (he/him) from his eerily cool basement.

Like myself, Joe is a New Jersey native. He hails from Sparta which is roughly an hour away from the wildly eccentric Asbury Park, home of the historical concert venue the Stone Pony. I asked Joe a few questions about what it was like to grow up in Sparta, and if the music scene in Asbury Park inspired his own creative endeavors. Joe previously was a part of Deal Casino, an indie rock group that recently broke up in June of 2020 following the release of their final EP.

From his childhood up through his days with Deal Casino, Joe has come incredibly far as an artist and a person. Sitting at over 600,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, Joe P has created a new platform for himself through Tiktok and Instagram, just acting naturally in his backyard or in his favorite place, the infamous basement that would make an apocalyptic bunker stomp away in defeat.

How did music come up? Was it seeing Asbury that kind of got you into music? Or was it like a family thing? 

No one in the history of my family has ever played music or done anything [like that], so I don't know where it came from. I always liked music when I was little. I have all those like classic recordings, home movies of me like dancing and singing to stupid songs. So I was always into that thing. 

At a young age, I guess I saw the guitar. That was the first thing and that was that. I think this is why it's so good to get into music when you're little because I just saw it as like a toy. It wasn't like, ‘I'm practicing an instrument.’ Because if it was like that, no one would ever. Especially kids – like you wouldn't want to do that. So I just saw it like anything else I had ever played with. And I was just like, ‘oh, this is fun.’ And then it kind of just, without me knowing it, turned into a thing that I cared about and was very serious about or whatever. And doing the eighth grade talent show was like the first feeling of ‘whoa, this is like a performance,’ you know?

And then I started getting into singing. Which I was like, I was so bad at singing. I don't know what my parents must have thought hearing me in my bedroom singing every night. But I think that's why I liked it. I liked it because I was like, ‘Oh, I know I'm not good at this. But if I work on it, I can get better at it,’ which probably is true for getting better at school too. But it also has a lot to do with, like, you have to be interested in something to even want to begin to do that; to want to get better at it. 

Writing songs was interesting to me because there's no rules for it and no one could tell me I didn't do it right or wrong or whatever. Whereas if I went to school and got an F on a test, it was like, ‘I hate that feeling.’ And it was like ‘oh I could have studied harder or whatever.’ I think I'm very discouraged by things that are [like] best case scenario you do just as well as you know the teacher wants you to do. With music, it felt more endless and I think I liked that it wasn't so like- ‘okay, here's what you're getting graded on.’ I really tried to keep it this fun, freeing thing.

Asbury Park definitely was a better stage for doing things like that. Where I grew up in Sparta, I was like the only person who played music in my school, which might have been helpful, I guess, in me feeling like an individual because of it. Maybe if I grew up in like New York City, I wouldn't have felt that kind of freedom, or like this identity with it. So I think that's almost a good thing that I grew up in this weird, in the middle of the woods type place. Because I got to be the guitar person in school, you know? So it was like, ‘I have an identity’ [at] 13 or 12, or whatever it was. 

What was the pandemic like for you? Artistically, did that help you? Or was it kind of different than what you're used to? 

It was different than what I'm used to, but it was great — not great, that sounds terrible — but it was like, it was one of those things where I'd wake up or whatever and it would be a nice day out and all of a sudden, I'm like in my basement playing music or whatever. And I was kind of like, ‘Oh, I've been like preparing for this forever.’ Just having to live alone in a basement and play music all day. I was like, ‘this is kind of great.’ So it did help me in the sense [that] I didn't have any of that weird guilt of like, ‘I should probably like, go outside and should probably like go see people and have fun and whatever.’ So I could actually really be comfortable being like, ‘Oh, no one is judging me for how strange it is to just be locked in a room [like]  I am right now. So that was kind of great.

I think there's something about [the pandemic] that just instinctually— it's bigger than anyone's ego. And it forces you to just be kind of like, ‘Whoa, I'm like a speck of dust kind of in this world because I could get taken out in a second,’ you know? And that's something that is actually awesome.

When a big natural disaster type-thing happens, it kind of forces us to be like, ‘Wow, do I really like my job?’ ‘Do I really love this person that I'm with every day in this house?’ You know what I mean? People really left with stripped down versions of themselves, which I think only lets you kind of figure out who you actually are and what you actually like. 

With the pandemic conversation, I used to listen to Deal Casino all the time — I remember hearing about the split, and that was pretty huge. What do you think kind of became different about your creative process, like being an individual versus being in a group?

With a band, you really want everyone to be equally involved. You really want this, like, ‘It's us against the world’ thing. And that's why I think bands will always be like, the greatest thing in the world, like, versus any solo artist, or whatever. There's nothing cooler than when you read or hear about, you know, like Nirvana or the Beatles who did some big thing. And it's just these four people that did something. I love that feeling of a small group of people taking on the world kind of thing.

You get in that mindset when you're in an actual band, and you want everything to be a certain way. And you kind of have this idea [that] everyone needs to have like a purpose and a role. And if one person does more than the other, it looks weird and now that person feels self conscious. It's very much like being in a true relationship, but with three other people, or however many people you're in a band with. So that was really interesting. I learned so much from that. 

And then when the split happened, it was like the band ended and the pandemic happened at the same time. So I was just like, ‘Oh my God, this is insane.’ It was so big and crazy that I just kind of looked up and I was like, ‘Oh, I'm just gonna make music, I guess.’ The next day I woke up, I was almost like, ‘Wait, no, it's better,’ which I think I've heard a lot of people talk about when they're in relationships for a long time or whatever and they finally break up or whatever it is, and everyone feels better for it. I just felt like ‘It's gonna be alright,’ like I can almost do what I want to do full on. Now, I don't have to include everyone and worry more about the relationships and things like that. I can just go forward and I don't have anyone to bounce anything off. I just have to go.

[I had] this mix of like really intense positivity of like, ‘Oh, I can do whatever I want now with it,’ and also this, like, crushing reality of like, ‘It's over, I don't care anymore.’ And I think in doing that, and then like posting videos, when those started connecting with people, I was just like, ‘Oh, really?’ Because I tried so hard for so long to curate good music or a good video or whatever, that when I wasn't trying, it worked. So I just approached everything differently. And I think that's why it started working a little more. 

I don't know if you’re calling it an EP or an album, but Emily Can’t Sing came out in October, which is probably really exciting for you. What was the inspiration behind the theme? Like, what kind of stories were you trying to tell? 

I would call it an EP because it's really only like four songs. It was a lot of experimenting. And it is kind of all over the place. But I kind of wanted it to be that way, where it was like it felt like starting over again. Like I said, it was a lot of just like, let me try stuff and release it. 

When you're in a band, it's very like, ‘Oh, the drummer records the drum part,’ and it sounds like that drummer. Or like the bass [player] plays the bass. And then all together, it sounds like the band. So when all that was gone, I didn't know what to do. And I was like, ‘alright, I guess I got to play the bass part.’ ‘Okay, let me play drums or call my friend to play drums,’ and I guess like, ‘I don't have to sing in this way.’ I thought I kind of was like out of body with the band where I was like, I need to be this way as a singer, because you look up to other bands or [the] frontman or whatever. But that was only for the band. So when that was gone, I was left with, like, this thing that doesn't really work anymore. It doesn't fit in that puzzle.

And so in the music in those songs, there's more singing stuff on it that I was like, ‘I don't know, I've never recorded like this before, it's always been so simple.’ [I tried] to like under-sing and keep it cool and all that stuff. And so the songs on the EP, [there are] ones on the piano, I did like a cover. And it's just like this full on singer-songwriter style performance. So this first EP, to me is very, it's a really kind of elaborate version of recording a voice memo and hearing what I sound like back on it. Everyone can hear it, obviously. And it's like for people to listen to. But it's also, it was more for me to just be like, ‘okay, I can do these things right now.’ For the next thing, I'm gonna dial it in a little more.

Would you say that it was like a cathartic experience? Just being able to do everything yourself and have that responsibility? 

Yeah, I mean, well, that was the thing with the band; that's the funny thing — nothing changed. Like I was always that person, you know what I mean? 

With a band that you've been in since you're in eighth grade, they're your friends, you just want everyone to be friends. And like, the music is kind of the backburner thing, because it's just easy to do. But with that gone, I was like, I get to be the crazy control freak, Just like how it was with the pandemic, I got to be the weirdo in the basement. 

The first show I've played just as Joe P, myself, I felt so weird. I walked out and I didn't know what to do. I still have to get very used to it. I played a billion shows with the band. And then I played in New York, and I walked out, and my imposter syndrome was like the worst it's ever been. Because it was just like, oh, like everyone's here to see me. I keep explaining to people, I just felt like I was like a little kid, having a birthday party. But now I'm not a little kid, so I'm aware of it. I'm like, ‘Oh my God, I feel like I invited everyone here to be like, “Go Joe!”’ That's why it was so weird. Whereas with the band. It was like ‘Oh no, we're behind this like wall’ and you're with your friends. But with this, it's like, ‘Oh no, this is just like everyone's here just to watch you.’ And they heard your voice and your music and that's why they came. But yeah, it's a good thing in the sense of [feeling] like I'm able to just create anything I want to create. 

I actually went to the studio recently with the people that were in Deal Casino, but in a way that was like, ‘Hey, I just want you guys to come like, make this song with me.’ And because you got rid of the label of like, ‘We're a band, and you're the bass guy, you're the drum guy,’ I was literally like, ‘I don't want there to be any plan, just have fun.’ And it was like the best everyone ever played. It's so funny, like this was the dynamic that always needed to be there with the band. So I've just kind of been taking that as like, my new kind of just mantra. I think people do so much better when they're given the choice to just do whatever they want. So if you're with a bunch of people, rather than assign things to them, because I used to think being a good leader in a band was like, know what everyone's strengths are, and make sure they stick to it or whatever. Now, it's so much more like a good leader almost just does nothing, and is just the one aware in the room of what's happening. You just have to be aware of everyone's feelings and their personalities. And just let them breathe the way they want to breathe and move the way they want to move. And you get everyone's best work out of it. So yeah, that's my advice for every band, I would say, who's out there right now. Just like, let everyone just do whatever they want. And it's gonna be way better. 

Prior to what you know about being a solo artist now and the way that you feel about it, was there ever a moment where you considered being in a band again?

No, definitely not. I think that was also another positive. As soon as it ended, I was just like, ‘Okay, never again,’ that kind of thing. It reminds me of when I was little. I had a dog and I was too little to really remember the dog. But the dog passed away, and I was like, ‘Why aren't we getting a new dog?’ And my mom was like, ‘I just never want to do that again.’ It was the worst feeling ever. And now I kind of understand that thing of like, you know, something was good. And it was like the best it could be. So like, it doesn't feel like ‘oh, the problem with it is that it wasn't the right band.’ That's the thing, I knew that that wasn't the issue. It just wasn't meant to be that way. So as soon as I started doing stuff on my own, it was immediate. It was the next day. As soon as it was done, I immediately liked the feeling of being like, ‘Oh, it's just me.’

In regards to collaboration and things like that, who is someone— like if you could choose anyone, living or dead, who would you want to collaborate with or work with?

I’m trying to think, I want to go with a dead person. I don’t know, I think probably someone who’s done a lot of different things across their whole career. I really love Radiohead. Radiohead is like one of my favorite bands and influences, but I don’t know if I’d necessarily do that. That’s the thing, I almost would rather work with someone who’s not in the world of like rock music or whatever it is that I do. I would rather almost work with like a Tyler, the Creator, or like a Childish Gambino or [someone] like that, cause I think I would just get more out of that.

I always love when people collaborate with people who it doesn’t seem like [they] would match up that well. Cause with music you can do anything, especially now. There’s no more genres, really. You could really full on do anything you want. Rather than double down and work with someone who plays rock music and I love their work or whatever, I would rather work with someone who just understands what it means to make something good. 

I just love that idea of like, ‘Oh I love this song.’ Like, to me someone like Tyler, the Creator or Frank Ocean, it completely has nothing to do with hip hop, rap, R&B, rock music, anything. It’s just what you’re listening to is good and I like it, you know what I mean? I think if you can get rid of that part of the music listening experience, where you have to be like, ‘Ooh, this is a rock song, I love this,’ it’s kinda nice. It’s kinda nice to just be listening to something and feel. I think that’s why we have less genre-based music now, because I think people got so sick of putting themselves in a box. You can really just listen to anything and if the song is good and resonates, that’s it. I just really love someone like a Tyler, the Creator because it is so different from song to song, and I listen to it like I’m listening to Tyler, the Creator not like hip hop. I’m listening to just the artist. So yeah, probably Tyler, I would say. 

Speaking with Joe, about his work, his life, and his story, I noticed a sense of calm and magic in his words, an understanding of love for what he does in a way that fades for so many artists over time. Being that I’m a long time fan, I’ve always admired the moody, emotional nature of every song put out by Joe himself or his previous project Deal Casino. But I’ve gained a new appreciation for the music that is all created by the musical mastermind doing what he loves in his basement. 

I reflect on the time I got to spend speaking with Joe, and it’s clear that whenever a song is put out by an artist like Joe, there’s a piece of their soul that is packaged up in the chords, the lyrics, the vocals, making it resemble something like a human that needs to be loved and appreciated. No one is doing what Joe does, and it’s a new wave of magic in this genre-less time we live in, a world where good music has no label, and you just know that it makes you feel something, no matter how it may be categorized. 

While he gets back into the groove of touring again in the coming months, keep an eye out for new goodness in March, and while you’re waiting, check out his most recent EP, Emily Can’t Sing, available on all streaming platforms.