Leslie Jordan
Bio
The Agonist, the debut solo Americana album from Grammy-nominated singer-songwriter Leslie Jordan tells the story of her grandfather — whom she never knew — and the characters he personified. Jordan’s grandfather, Robert S. Gott, fancied himself ‘The Agonist,’ a hapless wanderer chasing fulfillment and redemption through a peripatetic existence, which never quite led to the understanding he so desperately craved.
All families have mysteries, or at least forgotten stories. When a box of writing showed up on Jordan’s mother’s doorstep a few months after Gott died, she didn’t know what to expect. Inside, she found a trove of writing from her father (Jordan’s grandfather): poetry, short stories, and journals comprising some 30 years of his life. Up until that point, her father, who left when she was little, had been the villain of many family stories, and she barely knew him. But digging into the box and his writing, a far more interesting and complex story unfolded. When she shared the writing with her daughter, singer-songwriter Leslie Jordan years later, Jordan knew she wanted to write an album about her grandfather’s story.
Growing up, music and memory were integrally connected for Jordan, whose father possessed a near-photographic memory for where he was when he first heard a song. “I felt music in a different way; it wasn’t just listened to, it had to become something significant,” she says. To honor her grandfather’s story in this way, through song, feels only natural to her. “I never knew my grandfather, but I got to know him through his writing and wanted to finish his work somehow. And this is the way I know how.”
To be released April 25, 2025, The Agonist follows a long history of character-driven concept albums in Americana music. Most notably, Jordan drew inspiration from Willie Nelson’s seminal album, the Red Headed Stranger. Drawing heavily from her grandfather’s writing, Jordan’s The Agonist follows an antihero through mishaps and adventures that together present an intriguing portrait of a not always rosy, but very human existence. “The picture I get in my head of what an Agonist is, is this person that lives in agony or brings people down, you don't know if they're the protagonist or the antagonist,” Jordan says.
The album opens with its title track, introducing The Agonist, a name drawn from Jordan’s grandfather’s short story, The Cape Cod Caper. Gott wrote the story just after he left Crawfordsville, Indiana, his hometown. Cuing up his unease and lifelong-search for a Jack Kerouac-inspired beatnik lifestyle “The Agonist” establishes the stakes inherent to a rambler’s life: “But when you chase a fantasy / Reality is a casualty /You can trade the world and never know it.”
The Agonist “was born with something begging him to roam,” and once that’s established, Jordan’s album sets out on the road to wend through his writing and adventures. “The Fight,” the album’s first single, is based in a likely-autobiographical short story Gott wrote from the perspective of a mother who’s lost control and hit her son. It teases both sadness and resignation through the breakdown of a foundational relationship and its lasting effects. In “Athensville,” Gott’s nickname for Crawfordsville (sometimes called ‘the Athens of Indiana’ for its literary legacy), The Agonist reveals his drive to escape a dead-end place, which buoys him into his life-long wanderings aided by sometimes-destructive coping mechanisms.
On the album’s fourth track, “Loved Me for a Little While,” a heady, cantina-accordion flavored tune with standout background vocals from Sara Watkins, The Agonist settles down for a brief reprieve and a fleeting moment of love. “She reached for my hand / Almost enough to make me feel like a worthy man,” Jordan sings, embodying her grandfather’s contentment during a visit from Jordan’s grandmother while he was living in El Paso, TX. Still, before the song is through, The Agonist sabotages happiness, again: “And I hate myself for how I was back then / Wish that I could tell her I’m a different man / I’ve been thinking on this open road / Had a good thing and I let it go again.”
As Jordan dug into her grandfather’s writing, she discovered not the cut-and-dried villain who’d abandoned the family (as she’d grown up imagining him) but rather a complex, flawed man. She recognized the same restless curiosity and thirst to create that set her apart from most of her family members. Here was a connection and kinship that validated her own creativity. For years, much of Jordan’s professional musicianship was in church music, and after she left, she focused primarily on helping others find their voices, through her non-profit, The Fold. Her grandfather’s writing renewed in her the desire to create her own music, too. The result is The Agonist’s 10 tracks, conceived of and written over several years and through many co-writing and brainstorming sessions.
Working with producer Kenneth Pattengale of The Milk Carton kids, was surreal and gratifying for Jordan, who’s admired his work for a long time. “He kept pushing me into being that best version of myself,” she says. After years of working in Nashville, recording an album so connected to California in Far Cry Studios in Los Angeles felt right. The album’s stories came to life through collaboration with a long list of talented co-writers, including Sean McConnell, Drew Kennedy, and Sandra McCracken.
“Every time I sat in a room with somebody to write a song, they found a way to find themselves in the story” Jordan says. “Somehow in that space, it became my story, and it became their story, and then it became our story.” Stories told through music have mattered so much to Jordan since she was a child, and bringing people together through her grandfather’s stories for her first Americana music project confirmed for Jordan that she’s right where she belongs.
With the album’s fifth track, “Truth and Consequences,” (feat. The Milk Carton Kids) the Agonist’s itch to travel, whether to a new place or one from memory, returns. To write it, Jordan drew from Gott’s poem, “This Place,” composing an intimate love letter to the kind of place that only matters because of our own memories of it. For the Agonist, it’s a “yellow shack worn with a desert tan,” where that halcyon haze hangs over “violet mountains” and “violent winds / where change & trains keep rolling in.” Simply instrumented and rich in yearning, the track is a turning point as the Agonist chooses the consequences of leaving, for good.
Although Jordan knows her grandfather struggled with alcohol abuse, she’s only aware of what he chose to write down, leaving much to imagination. “Who knows what his trauma was,” she says. “Who knows what happened to him along the way that made him feel like he didn't belong and like he couldn't stay.” Although he did eventually semi-settle in El Cerrito, California, the Agonist’s choices continued to haunt him.
Of the many regrets in Gott’s life, one of the most enduring was his love for his brother’s wife, Sylvia, with whom he could not be. On “Sometimes, Sylvia,” the Agonist muses on their short affair after his brother’s death. It wouldn’t have been right for the two to be together, and maybe it wouldn’t have worked. Though Gott tussled with his feelings about his brother, the album’s only “Elegy” is not for Gott, but for his brother. Spare and soaring, the penultimate track is a poignant reflection on letting go, based on the three-line poem Gott wrote after his brother’s car crash.
In the Agonist’s life, reconciliation is rare and resolve begets acceptance more than resolution. Still, with The Agonist’s final track, “All Things” (feat. The Milk Carton Kids) his story coasts to a gentle denouement. No longer chasing dreams, he takes stock of life and the meaning of love and above all, memories, considering what matters most in life.
