J. Hover isn’t one to navel-gaze. He’s not the type to pontificate on his accomplishments or values—even when a writer doing a profile on him gently implores him to. When asked to reflect on his career—the many events he’s put on and artists he’s given a platform to—his answers tend to describe the bigger picture in textbook promotional language, leaving his own efforts out of the equation.
Perhaps it’s sheer Texan humility. Or perhaps it’s because he’s so constantly entangled in a revolving gauntlet of projects he can’t afford much time for reflection.
There’s Beauvoir Park, where Hover first stepped into the music industry in 2018 as head of booking and promotion. There’s Red Stick Social, where he did the same thing when Beauvoir Park temporarily shut down during the pandemic—he then continued working at both venues after Beauvoir Park reopened. There’s his personal CBD company, J.R. Hover and Co., which also vends its products at many of the events Hover organizes. And, most recently, there is his work as a freelance manager and booking agent, helping foster the budding careers of up-and-coming bands.
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It makes sense such a busy guy would have little time to wax over how well he wears his many hats. But every so often you might catch a glimmer of a boast:
“I think you’d be hard pressed to find anybody in Louisiana who’s supported local and live music as much as I have in the past three years,” he says. He’s referring particularly to a period during the pandemic, when Beauvoir Park was just about the only venue in town hosting regular live shows.
I think I’m approaching 350 to 400 shows by the end of the year that I’ve promoted and produced.
[J. Hover ]
One thing Hover will talk about, though, is why he does it. He calls the music industry a rough game, marred by loose standards of propriety and a lack of respect and hospitality, especially for those at its core: the people who make the music. He wants the venues he works with to be an oasis amid that chaos.
“The music industry is definitely not for the faint of heart … because there’s always so many unknowns, and sometimes just one unpredicted move can mess up your whole night,” says Louis Michot of the Lost Bayou Ramblers, a band Hover has booked on a few occasions. “But J has always had us covered.”
Hover says doing good, honest business is the M.O. that’s taken him all the way from the 10-year career in the oil and gas industry he left to begin his CBD company, to Beauvoir Park and Red Stick Social and beyond.
Now, he’s optimistic to explore new ventures through artist management and collaborations with venues throughout the Southeast. But Hover has injected himself so deeply into Baton Rouge culture, he says there are slim chances of him ever separating from it permanently.
Especially not from Beauvoir Park, the venue that four years ago gave a home to him as an amateur live music enthusiast with no experience in the industry to speak of.
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“I’ve got my hands in so many different things right now, I’m trying to find out which is the most sustainable long term,” he says. “But I’m a kind of live-in-the-moment kind of guy, so I try not to dwell on those things too much. Just trying to get through the day and … always (be) here to help.”
This article was originally published in the December 2022 issue of 225 magazine.