“My uncle used to fly me in to play gigs with him at The People’s Room. That was all I knew about Mobile. I was in Los Angeles when the Palisades fire happened. There weren’t any gigs, and it was a stressful time. It felt like staying would keep me stuck, so I packed up and came to Mobile.
I moved to Mobile in March with no expectations except that something was missing. But the people were friendly, and the vibes were right. When good things happen over and over again, it feels synchronized. Like a movie that lets you know you’re in the right place at the right time. I’m on a rollercoaster ride, but there are no scary parts.
It’s easy to be a part of the community. It’s the same spots—Brickyard, Callaghan’s, Icebox, or O’Daly’s and Outsider. In LA and other big cities, you can see someone and never cross paths again. Here, people circle back into your life. Mobile feels like a well-kept secret when it comes to music, and I’m proud to be here. I’m proud to be part of this community.
I was born in Miami but grew up in Jamaica from kindergarten through sixth grade. Those years shaped me. Before I moved, I was a rowdy kid. I remember kindergarten teachers telling me to shut up because I wouldn’t stop talking. In Jamaica, we moved eight times in five years, which meant different schools every six months. I learned how to gain and lose friends without holding on too tightly. We never said goodbye—it was just, ‘We’re moving.’
We moved because of finances. My dad had a mechanic shop. If business was good, we moved to a better place. If business dropped, we downsized. It was tough. Looking back, I realize how hard it must have been, but as a kid, it just felt like an adventure.
My dad is Jamaican. My mom is Haitian. My grandparents were immigrants. My Haitian grandfather got his citizenship through the shoe company he worked for. They gave him the choice between Spain, New York, and Miami; he chose Miami. That’s how my mom got here when she was three. My grandmother came by herself as a nurse. She sent money home for her four kids still in Jamaica, then brought my uncles and dad here.
It’s miraculous. My uncles helped raise me after we came back from Jamaica. Jamaica will always be part of my identity. I’ve been able to work with the Marleys and other reggae artists. That Caribbean culture is in my blood. People think those who have less are to be pitied, but sometimes they’re happier than the people who have more. Life is simpler than we make it.
My mom used to sing. She was part of a dancing and singing crew in Jamaica. Before we moved there, my dad bought us a drum kit, a piano, and a bass guitar. I was the little drummer at four or five years old, but I was terrible. When we moved to Jamaica, we sold everything and never touched music again until we returned to Miami.
In sixth grade, I had a friend named Adrian. He borrowed a school guitar, but he was awful at it. I begged him to let me try, but he wouldn’t. I told him, ‘Okay, next year I’m going to take guitar and be better than you.’ That’s how it started.
I took guitar class the next year. Every month the teacher gave us a song to learn. Whoever played it best got a prize. I won every single one. At home, we didn’t have Wi-Fi, just a guitar, The Simpsons, and Seinfeld. I wrote songs about girls I thought were too pretty for me. I took guitar through eighth and ninth grade, but I got tired of the same lessons that almost drained my creativity. Once everyone learns the basics, they all start sounding the same.
But the more musicians I meet, the more I want to grow. I want to be good enough to play with anyone. People say, ‘I’ll wait until I’m better, or until this happens.’ That just keeps you stuck. You’re ready now—for the opportunity, for the lesson, for whatever comes next. Nike. Just do it.
I studied to be a dental hygienist for a while but picked up a paper at Miami Dade College and saw that dentistry was one of the top three careers for suicide. No way. Around that time, I joined a band and started touring. Music let me travel for free and connect with strangers who became friends. I love this life.
I’ve been so lucky. I’ve toured the world playing with Ayron Jones for the last three or four years. We opened for the Rolling Stones, Metallica, and Guns N’ Roses. We even played in front of 80,000 people at a festival in France. Sharing those moments with audiences is the best feeling in the world.
I’ll never forget the catering with the Rolling Stones in Detroit. The food stretched from one end of the wall to the other. Jamaican food, fresh beet juice, carrot juice, every dessert you could imagine. They gave us T-shirts and anything we wanted. If you have good food backstage, it’s going to be a good show. That food went straight to my heart and into my dreads.
This past January, I wrote about 40 songs, sometimes two a day. I love mixing styles. Reggae, R&B, fusion, whatever. Music is like cooking—you season each dish differently. I never curse in my songs. Nothing derogatory. I want my mom to be proud of the music, and I want the songs to be for the people. I write lullabies for adults. Something catchy that makes you listen again. Like a movie you watch twice, noticing something new each time. I want to start playing more of my original songs in Mobile.
Right now, I’m recording in my uncle’s home studio. I’ll stay here until December to finish my first album. Then I’ll send it to my friends in LA for the parts I can’t do myself. The goal is to tour on my own.
The plan is to go out and be an acoustic opener on a tour and then go out with a bigger band. I’ve been doubting myself for so long. Let’s do this. I don’t want to regret not trying. Your purpose isn’t your ambition–it’s your assignment. Sometimes it’s right to take the longer way and stay authentic. I want to take my music all the way.”
Matthew Jacquette
Here are links to a few of Matthew’s orginal songs and one from a show at Callaghan’s.
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