Mornings With Doc

By Michael “Doc” Studard
Mornings with Doc – Kickin Kountry 101

Some artists chase a sound. Others chase a moment. Dalton Jones never chased either. His music came looking for him—slowly, stubbornly, and rooted deep in the red clay of northeast Alabama.

Dalton grew up in Jacksonville, Alabama, a small town sitting in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. It’s not the kind of place that shows up in glossy travel brochures, but it’s the kind of place that shapes people whether they realize it or not.

“It’s right here in the northeastern corner of the state,” Dalton explains. “Kind of right in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. Small town, but there’s a lot of talent here. A lot of heart.”

That heart shows up in his music—not as a slogan, but as lived experience.

Born Into Music, Raised in the Church

Long before Dalton ever stepped on a barroom stage or festival platform, his first audience sat in wooden pews.

“I was born and raised in church,” he says plainly. “My dad’s a pastor, and before that he was a sound director and choir director. He was always singing.”

Music wasn’t something Dalton discovered—it surrounded him. His father sang gospel music his entire life, and Dalton absorbed it the way Southern kids do: naturally, without thinking much about it.

One Sunday morning when Dalton was just four years old, he told his father he wanted to sing with him.

“The next Sunday we sang a special together,” Dalton remembers. “I was four years old. I was too nervous to stand in front of everybody, so I kind of stood behind the pulpit.”

He laughs at the memory now, but that moment stuck.

“Man, I’ve been hooked on singing ever since.”

Learning the Hard Way

At around ten years old, Dalton’s father bought him a guitar and signed him up for lessons. It didn’t go quite how young Dalton imagined.

“My instructor would walk in and just rip into some Van Halen or something crazy,” Dalton says. “And here I am struggling to hold a G chord. It really upset me.”

Like a lot of kids, he wanted instant results.

“I can’t stand when somebody can do something and I can’t,” he admits. “But as a kid, I wanted that instant gratification. When it didn’t happen, I put the guitar down.”

It sat untouched for a few years.

Then, around thirteen or fourteen, Dalton picked it back up—this time on his own terms.

“I got some chord charts and said, ‘I’m going to figure this thing out,’” he says. “And I did.”

A Promise That Lit the Fire

The real turning point came years later, wrapped in grief and love.

Dalton’s great-grandmother—his “mama”—was a gifted singer with what he describes as “one of those voices that makes every hair on your neck stand up.” When she developed lung cancer, she lost her ability to sing, then even to speak clearly.

“My mom and dad were the only people who had ever really heard me sing,” Dalton says. “And my mom told me, ‘You need to go sing for your mama.’”

He played In Color by Jamey Johnson.

Afterward, she gave him a charge he still carries.

“She told me, ‘Every chance you get, I want you to pick up that guitar and sing for people.’”

Dalton pauses when he tells this part.

“That was probably one of the last conversations I ever had with her.”

From that moment on, music stopped being optional.

Love, Karaoke, and Johnny Cash

Dalton met his wife doing karaoke—a fact that somehow feels exactly right.

“I was up singing, and my buddies came and told me this girl at the table thought I was cute,” he says. “She asked me to sing Folsom Prison Blues.”

That sealed it.

“If she asks for Johnny Cash right off the bat,” Dalton laughs, “you might as well just go ahead and get married.”

At the time, Dalton was riding motorcycles everywhere.

“I was a true blue biker,” he says. “That Harley was my only vehicle.”

She climbed on the back, and they’ve been riding together ever since—through marriage, three daughters, and a music career that almost didn’t happen.

For nearly ten years, she told him the same thing.

“You need to do something with music.”

For nearly ten years, he brushed it off.

“You always think your wife’s supposed to tell you you sound good,” he says. “I didn’t believe it.”

The Moment Everything Changed

The moment Dalton finally believed it came at Rock the South in Cullman, Alabama.

Thirty thousand people. Mud pits. Rain. Heat. Chaos.

“It was the first big festival I’d ever been to,” Dalton says. “People were standing out there in the pouring rain, drunk, muddy, laughing, hugging each other’s necks.”

On the ride home, he made a decision.

“I told my wife, ‘I’m doing music.’ I said, ‘If I can bring people that kind of joy, I want to do that.’”

He started playing out in August 2024.

His first real gig came with almost no notice.

“They called me at 6:30 on a Saturday night and said the show started at 7:30,” he recalls. “They needed four hours.”

The venue owner didn’t care if he repeated songs.

“I didn’t play the same song twice,” Dalton says proudly.

He was booked for the rest of the year.

Then the calls multiplied.

“One venue led to two, two led to four,” he says. “I ended up playing over a hundred shows last year.”

Writing From the Heart, Not the Head

Dalton doesn’t write to check boxes. He writes from moments.

“I try to write songs that come from something I’ve lived,” he says.

His song Right Here in the South came from frustration—and pride.

“I was pissed off when I wrote that song, if I’m being honest,” he says. “But it was real.”

Another song, Simple Lives, the Dream, came from watching his daughters play in the yard, with family land stretching out behind them.

“I was thinking about my Paw Paw,” Dalton says. “I know he was looking down, just grinning ear to ear.”

That’s where his songs live—in memory, in place, in people.

That authenticity didn’t just resonate — it connected. Dalton’s song “Right Here in the South” went on to become the Top Independent Song of 2025 on Kickin Kountry 101, earning the most listener support of any indie release on the station that year. For an artist who had only been playing out publicly for a short time, the response was overwhelming.

“That one hit different for me,” Dalton says. “Because it wasn’t about chasing anything. It was just me telling the truth. Knowing people actually heard that — that means everything.”

Carrying the Lineage Forward

Dalton is a fifth- or sixth-generation pastor’s kid. His family traces back to Welsh immigrants who came to America building churches throughout the South.

“When I was a kid, Sunday morning meant church,” he says. “No questions asked.”

That heritage still anchors him.

“I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for God,” Dalton says quietly. “He’s been good to me.”

Music, he says, has been the one constant through his life.

“I’ve got real bad ADHD,” he laughs. “I get into things, get good at them, then I’m bored. Music is the one thing I never quit.”

Still Just Getting Started

Dalton is quick to point out he’s still new to this.

“I’m learning every day,” he says. “Every show teaches me something.”

But authenticity like his doesn’t come from experience—it comes from truth.

“I’m just an old poor country boy from Jacksonville, Alabama,” Dalton says. “As real as they come.”

And that’s exactly why people believe him.

This article is adapted from a full-length interview with Dalton Jones on Mornings with Doc, Kickin Kountry 101.