In the February issue of Boca magazine, veteran rocker JP Soars discusses his scorching, swampy sound, his entry into the blues and metal scenes, and how the pandemic has shifted his road-tested lifestyle.
In this exclusive Web Extra, Soars shares more of his thoughts, including on how his adopted home state influences his music.
On his earliest musical memories:
My parents always played music on the radio. My mom was a huge Beatles fan. My dad was into Bob Dylan, Neil Young. My dad played guitar, not professionally but always around the house. I would always associate that with happy times in the household. My dad was playing guitar, or picking; my folks weren’t bickering. I always associated that with peacefulness and calmness in the household.
My parents were hippies. They would have parties, their friends would come over, and they’d all be sitting around playing music and telling stories. I was very drawn to that. My dad taught me the first stuff I learned on guitar.
On how Florida inspires his music:
… In a lot of ways. Florida’s very culturally diverse. There are people here from all over the world. So I get inspired from reggae music to jazz; now I’m learning bossa nova stuff, diving into that a little bit. I got a nylon string guitar, and I’ve been listening to a lot of that stuff, trying to learn that kind of style so I can incorporate that into what I do. It’s a melting pot of music here.
On his songs that specifically reference the region, like “Ain’t No Dania Beach” and “Southbound 95”:
“Ain’t No Dania Beach” is about a little club we used to play, the Dania Beach Bar and Grill. We had a monthly gig there, and the sound was really good—not a fancy club at all, but we just loved playing there. We played outside on this little wooden stage. We were over in Europe, touring, and some of the places we were playing were really rough. We played a couple of castles, and you can only imagine what that sounds like inside of a stone castle. So our bass player kept saying, “it ain’t no Dania Beach.”
“Southbound 95” was inspired by when we’d go out for a tour, and we’re on our way home. Say, the last show is in Virginia Beach, and we start heading home, and we get on I-95 heading south, and once we cross into the state of Florida, it can be 3 or 4 in the morning, but once we cross over, we’re like, we’re just going to finish it out, and we get that second wind.
On the changing face of South Florida concert scene:
The other night I had Saturday night off. I posted on Facebook, “does anybody know of any original bands playing around town? I’d like to go see them and possibly get inspired.” People would say, “There’s this Iron Maiden tribute band” playing at such-and-such. No, I wanted original music.
There used to be, back in the day, late ‘80s, early ‘90s, a scene of original bands that were trying to get signed, that were putting out demos, putting out their own stuff, and there was this plethora of original bands, and everybody was in a healthy competition with each other. It produced some really cool stuff. In the metal scene, everyone was trying to be heavier and crazier than the next guy. It spawned some really cool, unique stuff—groundbreaking stuff.
People will flock to see a tribute band. I understand. For me, I don’t care for that. It does nothing for me. I want to hear what someone has to say, not just a copy-and-paste situation.
On the bespoke instruments on which he performs, including a stringed instrument fashioned from a cigar box:
The cigar box guitars have two strings on them, and no frets. So due to the limitations of the instrument, it forces you to approach it in a different way. Certain things come out of it that wouldn’t come out of a regular guitar. It’s just by nature, you approach it differently, and create unique sounds from it.
This web extra is from the February 2023 issue of Boca magazine. For more like this, click here to subscribe to the magazine.
