Jelly Roll's Sagittarius Sun is conjunct Uranus, his Moon in Taurus opposes Pluto, and he's mid-Pluto-square-Pluto. The chart behind his comeback and his April 2026 setback.
Jelly Roll's Sagittarius Sun is conjunct Uranus, his Moon in Taurus opposes Pluto, and he's mid-Pluto-square-Pluto. The chart behind his comeback and his April 2026 setback.
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The April 2026 vlog was short on spin. Jelly Roll — real name Jason DeFord — had told the world he was chasing a New York City Marathon start line in November and wanted to drop another forty to fifty pounds to get there. He stood on the scale on camera, clocked 276.2, and said he'd been dodging it. Some celebrities handle weight-loss setbacks with carefully worded statements from a publicist. He handled his the way he has always handled the rough parts of his life — in public, on the record, with the camera still rolling. His 2026 has already been outsized: he took home Best Contemporary Country Album at the 68th Grammys in February for Beautifully Broken, plus a win with Shaboozey for Amen. Then came the quiet months. Then came the admission. That rhythm — a peak followed by a public wobble — isn't an accident. It's readable in the chart.
Start with the signature that explains almost everything about how Jelly Roll moves through fame. His Sun sits at 12° Sagittarius — the questing, truth-telling, I-will-say-the-thing fire sign — and Uranus is right next to it at 13° Sagittarius, less than a degree away. A conjunction is the closest angle in astrology; two planets stacked on top of each other. When Uranus fuses with the Sun, the identity becomes the disruption. You don't just do unconventional things. You are the unconventional thing, from the jump, by default. That's the chart of a tattooed former convict who put out Christian-adjacent country crossover hits and, somewhere along the way, became one of Nashville's most commercially successful acts without sanding down the biography.
But Sun-Uranus people pay a tax. The same placement that builds an audience allergic to polish also builds a nervous system that struggles with routine. Uranus wants the rupture — the surprise, the shock-cut, the moment where the pattern breaks. Diet and marathon training are the opposite of that; they demand repetition without drama, week after week of small boring choices. Sagittarius adds fuel to the problem. It's the sign of the big yes, the 'sure, let's go,' the grand plan announced at the dinner table. What Sagittarius doesn't love is the winter week three months into the plan, when nothing is new anymore. So the setback isn't a character flaw showing up on a clean chart. It's the native tension of a Sun-Uranus-in-Sagittarius person doing the most un-Sagittarian thing imaginable: building a body one grey Tuesday at a time.
His Moon is at the very first degree of Taurus — 0°49', fresh in the sign — which is the emotional signature of a person who finds comfort in the body: food, rest, weight, touch, familiar rooms. Taurus Moons are not restless feelers. They want the couch, the same playlist, the same plate. Now add the opposite side of the chart: Pluto at 3° Scorpio, sitting in a tight opposition to that Taurus Moon, orb under three degrees. An opposition is a 180-degree standoff — the two planets staring at each other from across the sky, forcing a conversation neither one can leave. Pluto is compulsion, intensity, the thing you can't just decide to stop. When it locks onto a Taurus Moon, the relationship with food, body, and bodily comfort becomes the stage where the whole psyche plays out its survival drama.
It tracks. Jelly Roll has spoken openly for years about his mother's addiction and mental illness, about his own youth in and out of incarceration, and about the way food filled a shape that other substances used to fill. A Moon-Pluto opposition doesn't cause any of that; charts don't cause anything. But it describes a person whose emotional body has always been the arena — a person for whom avoiding the scale is not a diet problem, it's a Pluto problem. Pluto doesn't lose, and it doesn't bluff. What it asks of this Moon is the willingness to look directly at the thing you've been pretending isn't happening. The April vlog, in chart terms, was a Moon-Pluto moment: the refusal to keep performing stability. That's not failure. That's the opposition actually working.
Here is where the comeback engine lives. Saturn — the planet of discipline, structure, and the reward that only shows up after the hard years — is at 21° Scorpio in his natal chart. Scorpio Saturn is not the easy Saturn. It specializes in the kind of discipline you can only build on the other side of something that nearly took you out: addiction, incarceration, grief, betrayal. This is the Saturn that rebuilds from the floor because it's already been on the floor. A supportive sextile to his Venus at 24° Capricorn — the slow, commitment-oriented love placement that explains why he married Bunnie XO in 2016 and stayed loud about her ever since — means the discipline is stitched into the relationship, not just the career.
Jupiter, the planet of growth and reward, is at 15° Capricorn — the sign where Jupiter is traditionally said to be uncomfortable, because Capricorn slows everything down. Jupiter in Capricorn doesn't get lucky at 25. It gets earned at 37. His breakout singles Son of a Sinner and Need a Favor landed in 2022, when he was 37 — nearly two decades into a recording career that most of the industry had never heard of. That's a classic Jupiter-in-Capricorn arrival curve. The tradeoff is that the same placement that builds a career on patience can punish impatience ruthlessly. The twelve-pound setback is the Capricorn Jupiter reminder: the reward is still real, but the clock is slow. You don't get to shortcut the last forty pounds any more than he got to shortcut the first decade in Nashville.
One more natal signature matters, because it explains why this story is told in songs at all. Mercury — the mind, the voice — sits at 0° Capricorn, and Neptune is right there at 0° Capricorn too. Orb: one-third of a degree. That's a fusion. Mercury-Neptune is the lyricist's placement, the preacher's placement, the person whose words arrive soaked in imagery and feeling rather than in clean argument. It is also, honestly, the placement of a man who can talk himself past what he's actually doing. Mercury-Neptune conjunctions blur the line between what I know and what I'm telling myself. Pair that with a Moon-Pluto opposition and the pattern of avoiding the scale makes perfect sense — not as weakness, but as the exact native hazard of a chart wired to tell redemptive stories about itself in real time. The same wiring writes the hit. The same wiring has to be watched.
April 22, 2026 finds Jelly Roll inside one of the most demanding transit combinations any adult chart ever runs. Pluto in Aquarius is squaring his natal Pluto in Scorpio — a 90-degree grind that happens to almost everyone around age 40 and almost no one twice. It's the generational checkpoint where the identity you built in your twenties runs out of room. At the same time, Neptune in Aries is squaring his natal Neptune in Capricorn — another midlife classic, the one that dissolves illusions about who you thought you were. Add Jupiter in Cancer opposing his natal Jupiter — a Jupiter return opposition, arriving roughly six years after the big breakout — and you have a chart being audited on three different timescales at once.
There is, however, a lifeline in this transit field. Saturn in Aries is currently forming a trine — the easy-flow 120-degree angle — back to his natal Sagittarius Sun. Saturn trine Sun is not glamour. It's the quiet structural support that shows up when you are willing to do boring, correct, daily things. It is the exact transit that rewards a marathon training plan, a weigh-in, a scheduled therapy appointment, a re-committed recovery meeting. Meanwhile, Uranus in Taurus is conjunct his natal North Node — the point that describes where a chart is trying to grow — by just over two degrees. The North Node in Taurus is the soul's instruction to slow down, to trust the body, to stop needing the adrenaline of the next breakthrough. Uranus on that point is a lightning rod: sudden changes in what he values, in how he eats, in what he considers enough. April's admission may be the opening note of that transit, not the end of it.
If you want to take the chart seriously as a lens, the honest read is this: Jelly Roll's chart is not built for a weight-loss victory lap. It is built for a twenty-year slow rebuild punctuated by very public cracks. The cracks aren't detours from the story. They are the story. A Sun conjunct Uranus needs rupture to feel alive. A Moon opposite Pluto can't heal without letting the hard feelings into the room. A Jupiter in Capricorn doesn't move the timeline no matter how famous you get. The cultural script he's been handed — dramatic transformation, before-and-after cover, marathon in November — is a Sagittarius script. His chart is mostly a Capricorn-Scorpio chart. Those two sets of rules are not enemies, but they do not run on the same clock. The reinvention his chart actually supports is not the one where he hits 225 by the New York Marathon. It's the one where he learns to stay on the road even when the scale is not cooperating. That's the less marketable version. It's also the one the planets keep pointing at. Reinvention, in his case, is not the dramatic weight-loss transformation that sells magazine covers — it is the unglamorous decision to keep showing up on the weeks when there is nothing new to post. Artists like Shakira, whose own chart is built around reinvention, and Selena Gomez, whose resilience has played out in public for longer than most of her peers have had careers, make a similar case. You can also hear echoes in Anthony Bourdain's chart, where the openness about addiction and the refusal to perform recovery cleanly became part of why the writing landed. Meanwhile, the current Mars conjunct Saturn transit in Aries is pulling everyone, not just Jelly Roll, toward the question of whether discipline can survive without spectacle. His chart says yes — but only if he lets the chart be what it is.
Jelly Roll, born Jason DeFord on December 4, 1984, is a Sagittarius Sun. His Sun sits at 12 degrees Sagittarius and is conjunct Uranus, the astrological signature of a public figure whose identity is built on breaking convention, telling uncomfortable truths, and refusing to perform a polished celebrity persona.
His birth time is not publicly verified by a reliable source, so we use a noon chart to calculate planetary positions accurately. Without a documented birth time, the rising sign and house placements cannot be determined with confidence, so this analysis focuses only on the planet-in-sign and aspect data that do not depend on the exact birth moment.
Several hit at once. Pluto in Aquarius is squaring his natal Pluto, the generational mid-life transit that restructures identity around age 40. Neptune in Aries is squaring his natal Neptune, dissolving old self-image. Jupiter in Cancer is opposing his natal Jupiter, and Saturn in Aries is forming a supportive trine to his Sagittarius Sun.
It describes a native with an intense, all-or-nothing emotional body. Taurus Moons seek comfort through food, rest, and physical routine, while Pluto forces confrontation with compulsion and survival-level feelings. The opposition means his relationship with his body is always where the deeper psychological work shows up, for better and for worse.
Yes. His Saturn is in Scorpio, the placement of discipline earned through surviving hard chapters. Paired with Jupiter in Capricorn, which rewards late-arriving growth rather than early luck, his chart is structurally built for a long, patient rebuild. That matches the real arc of a career that broke out nearly two decades after it began.
