Stone Jack Jones was raised in a coal miner’s company house on the banks of Buffalo Creek, WV. Behind the house rose a canopy of green forest. The woods were the first seduction, and whether by foot or by horse, it was there that he roamed. This solitude would transform his notions of reality, reality at the time being Vietnam raging, no prospects of college, and a draft notice in his pocket. He was rejected from the military because of epilepsy and told to go home. His dad, a fourth generation miner, said, “Don’t be the fifth,” so the young musician picked up his fiddle and began a life of wandering. Jack ended up working for a carnival where he was given a gun and a bag of weed to stand guard on top of one of the attractions. He played lute in a serious chamber music group in Cambridge, MA. Jack worked as an escape artist, was a ballet dancer. A horrible car accident left him in traction for a few months. He wandered the country, living out of a VW and recycling bottles. Jack played punk until he went too destructo. Jack returned to his Appalachian roots, sort of, as you'll hear. Read more on Last.fm. User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply.