A couple weeks ago, New York City Music lost one of its greatest champions. Billy Jones was living proof that one’s community could be vast but no less genuine and loving for such breadth. In this way, he was proof of New York, which is the greatest thing one can do for this city of dreamers. He put not music but the people who made and loved music at the center of the world he made around him. The result was that, through sheer imagination and friendly stubbornness, he lifted countless people out of self-doubt. The spaces he built were monuments by which people could orient their inspiration toward creating something tangible.
I wish that I could share a perfect story about Billy that would sum it all up. I don’t know if I’ll ever know which one that perfect story is. But his example will be with me and I will do my best to share it for as long as I live.
Billy loved music because he knew it could make someone smile. He loved music for the same reasons he loved to play and joke and coax those around him into conviviality. Music was a means to an end, and that end was a life worth leading. He left us far too soon but he made every second count. He knew that living was all about joy and he shared that joy as best as he could.
It’s a feeling /// Elvis lives /// You can do magic /// 🧚🏻
