For Elisa Schwartz, it was getting kicked out of a rock band.

For Jazmin Conte, it was breaking free of an abusive relationship.

These are the hands that life has dealt these three Central Jersey women. But they have not given up. They are determined to overcome adversity and achieve their dreams of making it in the music business. One of the ways they are chasing that particular dream is by battling it out on "Redemption Song," a new reality series hosted by rock singer and WWE wrestler Chris Jericho, which debuts at 11 p.m. Wednesday, Oct. 29, on Fuse.

The show gives its 11 down-on-their-luck contestants a chance to make it big: The grand prize is a recording contract with Fuse and Geffen Records. They just have to beat each other out in assorted competitions — beginning with an impromptu a capella sing-off — to win the prize.

Public humiliation

Plainsboro/Old Bridge native Elisa Schwartz — who now goes by the stage name Elisa Jordana — knew she wanted to be involved in music at an early age. After repeatedly running off to auditions and shows in New York City, her parents took her out of West Windsor-Plainsboro High School North and tossed her into a New England boarding school.

"I used to run away a lot, and they thought I was out of control," the 24-year-old recalls. "They tricked me. They said I was going to get a haircut, and we kept driving and driving and driving. We ended up in Massachusetts in the Berkshires. I'm like, "Wow, this must be a very fancy salon.' The crazy thing was when I got there I was the most normal one — and I've never been the most normal one in any situation."

Schwartz thought she'd finally gotten her big break when she was hired to play keytar for Cobra Starship, an up-and-coming band that penned the theme song for the 2006 Samuel L. Jackson film "Snakes on a Plane." Alas, that she wasn't long for that gig, either, and was fired from the outfit in 2007. The experience left her mortified.

"I was humiliated" publicly, Schwartz says, after allegations arose that she had been stalking the lead singer.

"I knew I was out (of the band) soon, so I would call him a lot," she explains. "And I would tell him, "You gotta keep me.' I wrote him a long letter — like a 10-page letter — about how I thought I'd still be an asset to the band.

"I don't know if that's considered stalking; maybe it's just (being a) persistent artist."

The experience made the classically trained pianist realize that she not only wanted a career in music, but that she wanted to become a solo "electro pop music and dance music" artist. Yet that hasn't made the process any less difficult.

"It's so easy to give up in this business," Schwartz admits. "If you have tough things happen to you. . . . I've had people steal money from me when I'm trying to make demo tapes. I've had people take advantage of me because when you're a hungry artist people — predators — they love that."

School of hard knocks

Esther Canata, 30, has been avidly pursuing a singing career for years.

"I've come very, very close time and time again," the Somerville native and one-time Courier News papergirl says. "I've been working with different producers up and down, from top ones to smaller ones, and production deals gone south. Bouncing from New York to Los Angeles to Europe."

Trying to break into the music industry proved difficult. While working in clubs in New York City, Canata says she fell in with the wrong crowd.

"Being alone, you sort of reach out and want people around you," she explains. "I fell into experimenting with drugs. It just sort of knocked me around a little bit."

In September 2006, Canata was knocked around even further when she was seriously injured in a motorcycle crash in the Swiss Alps.

"I almost died," she says. "I needed knee surgery, and I also broke my pelvis in three places. The bike went off the cliff 40 feet down. I hit a guardrail . . . it saved me from going over the cliff."

The road to recovery was long and painful.

"It took a year for me to really bounce back," Canata says. "I had to learn how to walk again."

During her recuperation, Canata says she did a lot of soul-searching and briefly considered becoming a cabaret singer in Italy.

"When you're laying there broken you have the time . . . to internalize and go in and fix all of your "broken parts,' " she says. "I just had all of this time to lay there with myself and think about my life and my passions and my dreams. It really just propelled me to come back more, to push harder, harder than I've ever pushed before."

And push she is. In addition to perfecting her sound, which she describes as "electronic soul-based rock," Canata is also an actress with several independent films under her belt. Her latest, "Hired Gun" starring Michael Madsen, will be released next year.

Tough existence

Jazmin Conte may be the youngest contestant of the trio, but the Toms River resident insists "I've been 40 since I was 10."

As a little girl growing up in Old Bridge, Conte would scribble songs in a notebook. As she grew older, she would perform in school plays and was actively involved in both music and theater.

"I set myself a goal" a long time ago, she says. "By the time I was 21 years old, I had to be something in music."

Her persistence paid off: The singer — who admires the sounds of Ella Fitzgerald, Janis Joplin and Ben Harper — auditioned for "Redemption Song" on May 21, her 21st birthday.

Still, that doesn't mean her life has been a bed of roses. Conte was raised by a single mother, and her father was not a part of her life. She got involved with the wrong guy, and the relationship turned abusive.

"I saved up a bunch of money to go move out on my own and pursue music, and that relationship made that money disappear," she says.

On the show, Conte — who sports at least 10 tattoos and 30 piercings — is referred to as having a bit of a temper. She recounts an incident in which she got into an altercation with a woman who was staying at a rental house she had in Seaside.

"She got physical with me," she explains in the first episode. "It was a big fight, and she got thrown through a window.

"The minute you get physical with me, I'm going to (expletive deleted) you up."

Baring their souls

As difficult and trying as these women's lives have been, the decision to publicly air their personal business on national television wasn't always easy for them — even if the grand prize was a record contract.

"When I was talking directly to the camera, it became more of a therapy session," admits Schwartz. "It's weird. I completely let go. I just told them everything. . . . I don't know if that's a good thing or not."

Conte was a little more guarded about that aspect of the experience.

"I would think to myself, "Oh my God, the whole world is going to know this,' " she says. "But I can't have any regrets. . . . No matter what, your dirty laundry comes out. I can't be embarrassed or feel shame for anything that's happened in my past because it made me a stronger woman and it put me where I am today."

Canata agrees.

"I'm comfortable with who I am today in my life, so my journey has made me strong," she says. "Of course, I'm not an advocate for experimenting with drugs, but it shaped who I am so I don't really regret it. . . . I think that it can be inspirational for a lot of young women."