J. Marinelli

The grandson of an
Italian immigrant coal miner (and proud-and-loud son of the Appalachian
Mountains), punk-folk troubadour J Marinelli has taken the
do-it-yourself idea to its furthest extreme. The end result is a
swirling, sweaty, self-contained cauldron of sound and motion – a sound
at once familiar and strange, texture and tumult, punk and folk,
sweetness and skronk, avant-garde and avant-garage. By the end of the
set, you’re as exhausted and exhilarated as he is – eyes bulging and
red, hair matted with perspiration, mind aglow with the possibilities of
what a West Virginia boy can do if he puts his mind, heart, and back to
it.

After touring the bulk of his home country as well as
Germany, the Czech Republic, France, and Belgium, J Marinelli (hot on
the heels of a newly released full-length LP on Twin Cousins Records)
is turning his mission westward yet again, over the broad Atlantic, and
he has his sights set on the hearts and minds of his European friends
and fans, and has the notion of gaining a few more while he’s over
there, doing what he does best.