Galexi Jones did not discover cannabis through branding. She inherited it through family, work, and place. “I’m originally from Humboldt County, California,” she told me. “I grew up in a grow room. I come from generational growers.”
That upbringing shaped how she hears the world. It shaped how she moves through the music industry, too. Jones left Northern California for Los Angeles, built experience in studios and creative circles, and eventually landed in New York, where she now splits her time between releasing music and building infrastructure for other artists through her agency.
But the real thread isn’t geography. It’s integrity. Jones grew up inside a culture where cannabis wasn’t a costume and community wasn’t a buzzword. When she talks about music, that same ethic shows up. She wants artists to get paid, get protected, and get smart, while still making work that feels alive.
And she wants the vibe to mean something.
A Festival Childhood That Wired Her Musical DNA
If you want to understand Galexi’s sound, start in Humboldt County, where cannabis, music, and community aren’t separate lanes. They overlap. They raise you.
“Reggae on the River specifically has the biggest hold on my family and my heart,” she said. “My parents actually met at Reggae on the River. I was conceived at Reggae on the River.”
For her, that festival was not just a lineup. It was family history, annual reunion, and economic engine all at once.
“That was the place that every single year you’re seeing all of the friends that you make throughout the years and all my family,” she said. It also brought real money into the region: “Huge community aspect and also a huge economic boost in August.”
Her mother worked at directing traffic at the festival. The family got paid. They got access. They got stories that stick. “It put money in my mom’s pocket when she’s working traffic,” Galexi said, “and not only are we getting free tickets, but she’s getting paid for her work.”
Those details matter because they explain why she still cares about the ethics of “culture.” In her view, festivals weren’t just parties. They were local ecosystems.
“My family’s been employed by Mateel and People’s Productions for up to 35 years now,” she said. She remembers being a kid there, moving freely but never being unsafe. “I was a kid running around Reggae on the River with no parental control and fully safe.”
She could roam because the community did what real communities do: it watches out.
“There was a community of people that were watching me,” she said, naming the familiar faces she saw year after year. “Whether it was Marjorie Brown painting on stage, whether it was Rainbow, head of traffic, whether it was Peter, head of security… There were always eyes on me.”
That feeling became part of her musical wiring. It also became her bar for what a good event should feel like.
“If I can emulate that all where you feel safe, you feel secure, you feel like you can leave your bag somewhere, and you can walk around, and you can be all right,” she said, “that integrity is something I really want to carry on into what I do.”
Influence Without Imitation
Humboldt didn’t just shape Galexi’s worldview; it shaped her ear. Reggae on the River was basically a family tradition in her house, and that sound permeated her being and her memories.
That influence was so baked in, it showed up the second she started singing. “When I started singing, people actually were making fun of me because I had a Jamaican accent, because I grew up listening to reggae music or English artists,” she said. She dropped the accent over time, but she didn’t drop the roots. “I’ve definitely dropped the accent, but I love a good reggae riff and stuff like that.”
When she got deeper into music, cannabis stayed in the picture, but not in a corny, branded way. More like a ritual. More like the way studios actually work. “They go hand in hand,” she said. “When I first started making music… I used to manage music studios back in LA, and you’re constantly smoking in the hallways.”
She also put it plainly why she preferred weed over alcohol in those environments. “I was never really a drinker,” she said. “Specifically, as a woman in music situations, drinking in the studio isn’t necessarily the safest thing always.” So cannabis became her switch before a take. “I used to light up before recording… I would take a bong hit and then go.”
And she was honest about how practical it was when she was younger. “I was 18, and my voice sounded like a little boy when I rapped,” she said, “and so I smoked right before so I could deepen my vocals so I could sound more like how I wanted to.”
The Part of the Industry Nobody Teaches
Galexi loves music, but she refuses to romanticize the music industry. She’s been close enough to it, for long enough, to know how ugly it can get when nobody teaches young artists the rules of the game.
“This is something I’m really, really passionate about,” she told me. “You just think it’s so easy. If Rihanna can get fucked over, so can you.”
That wasn’t her trying to sound tough. It was a warning, and it came from years of watching talented people get boxed into bad deals, bad management, or bad expectations. Galexi grew up around industry stories, not just fan narratives. She talked about being exposed early to the behind-the-scenes reality, seeing how quickly someone can get chewed up when the business side is handled by people who do not have the artist’s best interest at heart.
So she did what a lot of independent artists end up doing if they want a real shot. She educated herself. Not in a clean, linear, “I took a course” way. In the way you do it when you’re broke, hungry, and serious.
“I was working at like Joe and the Juice or random coffee shops,” she said, “and whenever it was slow, I would take out the iPad and just watch YouTube University.”
She used downtime the way most people scroll. She treated it like homework. She studied contracts, the language in deals, the difference between a label situation that helps you and one that owns you. “Not only the difference between an EP deal and a 360 deal,” she said, “but also how to navigate pop culture and the mistakes that other people were making.”
That last part is what stood out to me. She wasn’t only learning paperwork. She was learning how artists get marketed incorrectly, how careers get pushed into lanes that don’t fit, and how image can swallow the actual craft if you’re not careful. She was studying outcomes, watching the patterns, and building instincts.
Over time, that knowledge changed her role in her circles. She became the friend artists called when they felt in over their heads, when they had a budget but no plan, when they were making big moves without a map.
“I started becoming the go-to person for emerging and independent artists,” she said. “Hey, Galexi, how do you make an EP or EPK… how many songs should be on an EP… I have this budget. How should I spend it?”
If you’ve ever been around a serious music scene, you know those questions are constant and usually unanswered. Most artists learn by getting burned. Galexi started helping people learn before they got burned, and that is where the agency work started to take shape.
She wasn’t trying to build some glossy “artist development” brand. She was trying to close a gap she felt firsthand. Resources, mentorship, basic business literacy, and real-world etiquette that keep you from becoming the nightmare client nobody wants to work with.
The mission clicked into a sentence that honestly should be printed on a wall in every studio and rehearsal space.
“We want to break bread and make bread to eliminate the archetype of a starving artist,” she said. “There’s absolutely no reason that the people who push culture shouldn’t be able to pay their bills.”
That line carries her whole philosophy. Protect the art by strengthening the artist. Give people tools, not just clout. Build systems that make talent sustainable, not disposable.
Building Events That Feel Safe and Intentional
Galexi now lives in New York and runs her creative agency while continuing to release her own music.
“I’ve since launched my own creative agency,” she said, adding that many clients come from cannabis because she speaks the language. “Toke.in being the main one I work with now… It’s a legacy and minority owned brand here in New York.”
In NYC, she sees more opportunity to build aligned events where music and cannabis can coexist, even if the rules still complicate things.
“There’s a lot of really cool different ways that we can go about it now that it’s legal in New York City,” she said.
The biggest friction point right now is venue regulation.
“You can’t have cannabis and alcohol in one space,” she explained. “So when you’re doing music venues and stuff like that, it’s a little bit difficult.”
Still, she’s optimistic that stigma won’t stay frozen forever.
“I think that eventually… cannabis isn’t seen as this drug that you’re going to get fucked up on,” she said. “More professionalism comes with it, more opportunities come, less stigma is there.”
In practice, she builds with what’s possible today and chooses venues that keep artists and guests comfortable.
New Music, Bigger Vision
Galexi isn’t only building platforms for others. She’s in her own release cycle right now, with multiple projects stacked.
She outlined two EPs with distinct identities.
“I have an EP… a compilation of covers or renditions of covers… called Songs I Wish I Wrote.”
And another fully original EP.
“The next one is going to be called Serpent Songs. It’s all originals,” she said, adding the concept framing: “They’re all made in the year of the snake. So that’s why it’s Serpent Songs.”
After that, she’s aiming at something even more ambitious, a multi-format album project.
“I have been working on an album… called Polaris,” she said. “It comes with a short film and a comic book.”
She also shouted out the executive producer attached to that bigger vision.
“It’s executively produced by Wontel Washington,” she said, “who is an amazing talkbox artist, producer, and artist within his own right.”
This is the part of Galexi’s story that feels most important to foreground. She’s not “pivoting” into music. Music is the spine. The agency, the events, the education panels, all of it feeds the same goal: build a healthier creative economy where artists do not have to self-destruct to stay visible.
Where to Follow Galexi Jones and What to Watch Next
Galexi is proof that the artist’s life doesn’t have to be a slow bleed. The agency work, the showcases, the events, the music—it’s all connected. She’s building the kind of ecosystem she grew up in: where culture isn’t a costume, community isn’t a buzzword, and the people creating the vibe aren’t treated as disposable.
That might be the blueprint. Not a path to fame, but a model for sustainability—where artists get protected, get paid, and get to stay human while they build something real.
You can follow her work through her agency, Cultivare Creatives, as well as her own music releases and upcoming events—all part of the same mission: a better system for artists, built by someone who actually understands what’s at stake.
All photos courtesy of Galexi Jones.
Kyle Rosner
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