Persistence is the Real Talent (Jason Hollis)
Jason Hollis, artist developer, producer, and owner of Nashville’s The Eighth Room, shares how moving to Los Angeles at 17 led to mentorship from Capitol Records executive Tony Zetland and shaped his decades-long career in music. We also discuss why he stepped in to save a historic venue, despite having no prior experience running one, and how that decision led to building The Eighth Room.
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Transcript:
Mike: Hey Hollis, how are you?
Jason: I’m good, buddy.
Mike: I’m doing good, thanks. We were talking just before about all kinds of different things. I’m really excited about this interview because I think there’s going to be a lot of ground we’re going to cover. I did want to start by mentioning how amazing The Eighth Room is—we’ll definitely get into how that all came about—but it looks incredible and impressive. So first off, congratulations on that. That’s an incredible feat.
Jason: Thank you so much. It was a lot of fun.
Mike: I can only imagine. What’s interesting is your background wasn’t originally in running venues. It was more in artist development and music production, and you started very early—around 17. I feel like I was a late bloomer starting in my early twenties compared to so many people. Did you know even before 17 that you wanted to get into music? How did that come about?
Jason: It’s funny because I think there are things that inspire us at a very early age. For me, it started with my dad’s record collection. He had a great collection—Stones, The Beatles, The Kinks, Herman’s Hermits—all these great bands.
But I think the real turning point for me was Saturday morning cartoons. I’m a Gen Xer, so late ‘70s, early ‘80s—that’s what you did. You woke up at 7 a.m., watched cartoons until 10, then went outside.
And during that era, every cartoon had a band. Scooby-Doo, Jabberjaw, Captain Caveman—even Fraggle Rock. Everything was built around music.
But what really triggered something for me was The Muppets. They still trigger me in a good way. You had Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem. Dr. Teeth was probably the coolest thing you saw on TV—gold tooth, hat, very Dr. John–inspired. Animal. These characters were incredible.
And The Muppets would bring on artists—Elton John, Liza Minnelli—real legends. There was something about that magic that resonated with me. Around seven or eight years old, I became obsessed.
That carried through elementary school. Everything was about what I was listening to and how I dressed based on the music I loved.
In middle school, my parents separated, and my mom started dating a guy named Fred Ziegler. Fred—who I call Pops now—owned Ziegler Music, a musical instrument store in Baton Rouge with multiple locations.
I thought that was the coolest thing ever. My mom’s dating the guy who owns the music store? That’s where all the bands hung out.
At 15, I started working there—cleaning horns, restringing guitars, doing grunt work. On weekends, they let me work the sales floor. I worked there through middle school and high school.
There was just something profound in me that knew this was it. I was going to be in music. By early high school, I realized I didn’t just want to sell instruments—I was a record guy. I wanted to make records.
I was reading about Andrew Loog Oldham, Ahmet Ertegun—these record men. That’s what I wanted to be.
My parents knew nothing about that world. They basically said, “You’re going to have to figure it out.” And that’s what I did.
It’s funny—I went back to Baton Rouge not too long ago, and a friend told me he’d always been jealous of me. I asked why, and he said, “You’ve always known what you wanted to do. I still don’t.”
I’d never thought about it that way. Something just clicked early on, and it was music.
But along with that comes a lot of work. A lot of hard work. The failures outweigh the successes in this business. You have to be extremely tough. But I’ve always known.
Mike: Do those music stores still exist today?
Jason: They had a 50-year run. Right before COVID, Guitar Center made an offer my pops couldn’t refuse, and they sold. It was probably a great time to get out.
I think he still wishes he had them—it was his legacy—but yeah, they’re no longer around.
Mike: I really appreciate that hands-on background you had. You were physically maintaining instruments, understanding how they worked. That has to give you a different appreciation for musicians.
I was a pianist and trumpet player growing up, and mastering an instrument is hard. Getting to the point where you control the instrument—not the other way around—takes discipline. Maintaining them takes care and respect.
Jason: In middle school and high school, when new gear would come in—like when the Roland 808 drum machine arrived—I remember begging to spend the night in the store.
It’d be a Saturday night, and I’d say, “Just lock me in and pick me up tomorrow.” I had everything I needed. I’d stay up all night programming it, learning how it worked.
I can dabble in everything, but I’m great at none of it. I realized early on I’d always be surrounded by phenomenal musicians, especially coming from Baton Rouge and New Orleans.
In high school, I started an A&R department at the music store. I was giving local bands deals, setting them up with accounts. I met everyone—Dr. John, Allen Toussaint, Chuck Berry, Ray Charles. Being around those people was a blessing.
And you get to see behind the scenes—how it all works. I was just a sponge.
Mike: That’s incredibly smart—absorbing everything around you.
How did you transition from working in a music store to artist development and production? That’s a leap.
Jason: This was pre-internet. If you wanted to learn, you bought books. You studied how Ahmet Ertegun did it, how he transitioned into being a great record man.
I knew I had to leave my backyard. It was either LA or New York.
So the day I graduated high school, I moved to Los Angeles. No family. No friends. I’d been planning it for a year. I bought an LA map, an LA Times, found my apartment, pinned it to the map. I mapped out my route. My whole bedroom was like a vision board—pictures of Rick Rubin, Andrew Loog Oldham, the LA map, my future.
I dove in headfirst.
The first two years were tough because I didn’t really have a game plan beyond getting there. It was blind faith.
So I surrounded myself with record guys.
LA is massive, especially coming from a small town. Record labels are in Santa Monica, Hollywood, Burbank—it takes a day just to get around.
I used charisma and a little bit of dumb luck to get in rooms. And that dumb luck introduced me to Tony Zetland.
Jason: Tony Zetland was one of my very first mentors. Tony had come over from the UK with The Beatles when they moved to Capitol. He worked at Capitol London and then transferred to Capitol Hollywood. He had worked with Pink Floyd, The Beatles, Journey—so many incredible artists.
I lived in a tiny studio apartment in this building on Sunset Boulevard, and Tony lived in one of the larger units upstairs. I was introduced to him through our landlord, Lorraine, who was like everybody’s grandmother in the building. She threw a dinner party one night to introduce me to some of the characters living there, and Tony happened to be one of them.
We completely hit it off.
Anytime you start talking about music with someone who truly understands it, everyone else in the room disappears. It’s like a spotlight turns on and you’re speaking the same language.
Tony took me under his wing. He took me to the Rainbow Bar & Grill for the first time. He showed me the Troubadour, the Roxy, On the Rox. He introduced me to that world. We’d go back to his apartment and watch documentaries about the British Invasion, and he’d pause them and explain the managers, the producers, the engineers, the politics behind the bands. Who left which band and why.
I just sat there and soaked it all in.
He also taught me my very first real lesson:
Shut the hell up and listen.
When you’re around people who have done what you want to do, it’s better to sit there quietly and absorb everything than to try to add your two cents. Because at that point, you don’t really have two cents to add.
Mike: Why do you think that’s such an important lesson?
Jason: When you’re young, you have energy. You’re excited. Everything feels new. And you want to contribute. You want to interrupt. You want to show that you know something.
But you don’t.
And that’s not an insult—it’s just reality. You haven’t lived enough yet.
So it was a very valuable lesson.
I remember recently talking to a young musician who kept interrupting me while I was trying to give advice. He’d say, “Yeah, I know, but I can do this,” and I finally said, “You need to shut up and listen. You’re 20 years old. I’ve been there.”
It was a full-circle moment for me—passing along the Tony Zetland lesson.
You have two options when someone experienced gives you advice:
You either take it and consider it, or you ignore it.
When someone gives you real advice, it’s coming from care. It’s coming from experience. I’ve always chosen to take the advice—even now. I surround myself with people who are better than me. And that makes you better.
Mike: I completely agree. Listening and taking advice are two different things. You can listen without necessarily following it—but you at least respect it.
How did you actually meet Tony? Was it just that dinner party?
Jason: Yeah. That building was famous. I lived on Sunset and Larrabee. The Viper Room, the Whiskey, the Roxy, Tower Records—they were all right there.
Axl Rose lived in that building. Slash lived there. Angelyne lived there. It was a cast of characters.
Lorraine, our landlord, hosted this dinner party to introduce me to people, and Tony was there. We started talking about music, and that was it.
Mike: There’s something to be said about physically being where things are happening. Yes, the internet gives us access—but being in the room matters.
Jason: Networking is probably the biggest tool anyone can master.
It’s an art form. It’s something you practice.
Connections are everything in this industry. Jobs don’t come from LinkedIn applications. They come from relationships.
Mike: You seem very charismatic. Do you consider yourself more extroverted or introverted?
Jason: That’s a good question. I’d say I’m probably 80/20 extrovert. But there’s definitely a creative side of me that’s introverted. I know when I hit my social limit. I can feel it, and I shut down.
Mike: I relate to that. I was probably 80% introvert when I started 80/20 Records. I forced myself into networking situations just to get better at it.
Jason: And that’s exactly it.
You’re given a toolbox in life. Everyone’s toolbox is different. When you step outside your comfort zone, you add tools to that box.
Networking is an art form. The more you practice it, the better you become.
I was at my club recently throwing a surprise party for Tony Brown—he was being inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. The room was filled with legends. Living legends.
I looked around and thought, this is a playground.
So I just started walking up to people, introducing myself, telling short stories, and then leaning back and letting them talk.
You find the icebreaker. Then you let them feed you.
Everyone wants to tell their story.
Mike: That’s such a key point—ask questions. The easiest thing for anyone to talk about is themselves.
Jason: Exactly. Who, what, when, where, why. That’s all you need.
Who did you work with?
Why did you do that?
When did that happen?
It opens everything up.
Mike: It’s ask, shut up, and listen.
Jason: Exactly.
And here’s another thing—persistence.
You’d be surprised how many meetings I’ve gotten simply because I wouldn’t go away.
I’ve sat in offices where someone told me, “The only reason you’re here is because you wouldn’t stop calling.”
They’d give me five minutes. And once you’re in, it’s on you to make the impression.
Persistence matters. But it has to be respectful.
You can’t look desperate.
There has to be a “why.”
Why should I give you my time?
If you can present that clearly and respectfully, you’ll get in.
Mike: That balance between persistence and annoyance is tricky.
Jason: It’s an art.
If you go too hard, you look desperate. But if you’re thoughtful, strategic, and you understand why you deserve the time, you’ll get in.
I get tons of emails from young artists. Very few say, “I’ve done my research on you. I know what you’ve done. I loved this project you worked on.”
Instead, they just send links.
But if someone takes the time to single me out and show respect, I respond.
They may not like what I say—but I respond.
Mike: That’s exactly how I feel.
Jason: It’s about respect.
And you should document everything. Track who you email, when, what they said. If someone’s ghosting you after six emails, go back and look at your approach.
If you do it right, you’ll get to them.
Mike: Sometimes it’s just timing.
Jason: Absolutely.
Let me tell you a story.
One of my mentors, Bill Richardson, signed Collective Soul. He got 108 rejection letters pitching them.
Then he went to radio. Nothing for months. He kept calling this one program director in Florida. The guy told him no over and over.
Finally, the guy said, “I admire your persistence. I’ll play one song. But I’m picking it.”
He played “Shine.”
The phone lines lit up. It went into rotation. Two months later, it was number one.
108 rejection letters meant nothing.
No should be fuel.
Jason: It doesn’t matter how many rejection letters you get. It doesn’t matter how many labels say no, how many DJs pass, how many agents don’t call you back.
You just need one person to say yes.
And sometimes that yes only happens because you didn’t quit.
No should be your greatest fuel.
In my career, I’ve never done an easy deal. I’ve always had to build something from the ground up. Shake things up locally until people from the coast start asking, “What’s going on over there?”
You have to create something that people want.
If you can build something strong enough that people start coming to you instead of you chasing them, everything changes. The deal structures change. The leverage changes.
You have options.
And options are everything.
Mike: With the artists you’ve worked with over the years—whether developing them or producing—what do you look for?
Jason: A couple of things.
First, I look at the market. I’ll think, “What’s missing right now?” Is there a gap? Do we have a great American version of Coldplay? Do we have a band like Matchbox Twenty right now that writes those kinds of songs for AAA or Hot AC radio?
If there’s a hole in the market, I start looking for artists who could fill it.
Second—and probably more importantly—it’s gut.
I’ll walk into a room and just know. I’ll hear something and think, “I know exactly what to do with this. I know how to take this from here to here.”
There’s an “it” factor. We all know it when we see it.
It’s not technical perfection. It’s not follower count. It’s something intangible that separates them from everyone else.
When that lights up in your gut, you pay attention.
Mike: Where do you think representation stands today? Labels, managers—do artists still need them?
Jason: That’s a big question.
I’m actually finishing my first book right now called So You Want to Be a Rock Star.
And my perspective has shifted.
Gen Z and Gen Alpha artists aren’t going to grow up chasing record deals the way we did. They’re focused on content. They’re building brands. They’re building communities themselves.
Labels don’t really offer artist development anymore. It’s algorithm-driven now. TikTok numbers. Streaming metrics.
There are still exceptions—Scott Borchetta at Big Machine is one of the few who will invest long-term in artists. But generally speaking, artist development as we knew it is gone.
Managers aren’t going to save you either. They’re not going to come in early and build you from scratch if there’s no revenue.
So I think the responsibility is shifting back to the artist.
There is a roadmap. There’s a way to do this.
I’ve spent 30 years learning that roadmap. And what’s missing right now is guidance—something that shows young artists step by step how to build leverage before they start knocking on doors.
I’ve spent my life trying to get artists into the music business.
I think I’ll spend the rest of it teaching them how to stay out of it—how to build their own thing, own their content, own their brand, and create options before they ever give anything away.
Mike: I agree with a lot of that. I don’t think artists have to sign deals anymore—but they also don’t have to do everything alone.
Jason: Exactly.
I’m not anti-label. I’m anti-going-too-early.
If you go to the industry too soon, you devalue yourself.
Build something first.
Put the blinders on. Follow your game plan. Stay accountable. Track your progress.
Then when the phone rings, you have options.
And options change everything.
Mike: Let’s talk about The Eighth Room.
You didn’t have prior experience running a venue.
Jason: None.
This came from necessity.
I started my career in Nashville in 1995. There was a venue called Douglas Corner. It was legendary. Trisha Yearwood got signed on that stage. Garth Brooks. Clint Black. Blake Shelton. Big & Rich. So many careers started there.
I left Nashville in 2001 and came back during COVID.
I was living down the street from Douglas Corner and noticed it had shut down. I talked to the realtor and found out someone was trying to turn it into a hip-hop hookah lounge.
And I thought, “Not on my watch.”
This room needs to remain a music venue.
So I went home, talked to my wife, and somehow… we bought it.
I had never run a bar. Never run a venue. My background was artist development and production.
But sometimes you step into something because it matters.
Small venues are disappearing everywhere. We need rooms like that—rooms where careers can start. Rooms where someone can bleed on stage and change their life because the right people are in the audience.
Shinedown opened our club. Queen played there the night before Bridgestone Arena. Parker McCollum was there last week.
And we’re championing local artists too. Guys who’ve been playing that stage for years and are now getting national recognition.
That’s what I wanted.
Not to own a bar.
To protect a space.
Mike: That’s incredible.
You even have a “dress to impress” note on the website.
Jason: Yeah. It’s not strict, but I don’t want people showing up like they’re going to the airport.
You never know who’s in that room.
First impressions matter.
If you look like a rock star and carry yourself like one, you’re representing yourself that way.
Mike: Let’s wrap with a few quick questions.
First concert?
Jason: The Beach Boys, 1977. Fleetwood Mac opened.
Mike: Go-to artist right now?
Jason: Oasis. They’ve taken over the world again.
Mike: If you could give one piece of advice?
Jason: You have one choice in life.
You either go all in and leave it all on the table.
Or you settle.
The faster you decide which one you’re choosing, the faster your life path becomes clear.
Mike: That’s powerful.
Jason, thank you so much. This was inspiring.
Jason: It’s been a real pleasure, my man.