So what’s my point? Discredit the American magic of good ol’ hard work? Make people sad and upset? Well, not entirely. I do think this is a problem, and so a certain amount of discontent is appreciated in fueling any change. The answer to why the arts are so selective in who they consider to be a member occurred to me as I was looking into the history of education.
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There’s an interesting correlation between social movements and students throughout history. In fact, social movements almost always have their roots in schools in some way. I have yet to learn about a major revolution or social movement that has not had students (current and former) involved in some way. It’s almost as though receiving an education helps you better understand the state of the world – shocking. This is a trend that is especially prevalent in the liberal arts and humanities. I think this is because the arts teach us about ourselves and each other. As soon as you start seeing yourself in others, you start to understand their perspective. Humans help the humans they know.

Image source: (educationdata.org/average-cost-of-college-by-year)

In fact, if you look up when the price of higher education started drastically increasing. It was almost directly in response to the social progressive movements on college campuses in the 60s. It seems the government realized that this whole education thing was making people question the way lives were being led at the time. Their solution of raising the cost of attending was a way to ensure that the only people with the knowledge and perspective to change the system would be the least likely to recognize it. The current system works okay for those who can pay their tuition out of pocket, not so much for those who struggle to do that for groceries.
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Working class families face the prospect of having their children take on extensive debt if they want a degree. At the same time, job prospects for those without a college degree are dwindling. Education is no longer about learning and the betterment of the self, it is about getting a return on an investment – an investment that obviously turns many but the most wealthy away from the arts as a feasible option.

This week’s blog is an album spotlight about one of the first artists that I came to follow in earnest. His album, Wool, was my introduction to his work, and has been massively influential on my musical tastes. Nick was generous enough to provide a bit of insight into his work via email, which was much appreciated as a writer of this blog and a fan of his work.

Image from: (nickjaina.bandcamp.com/album/wool)

Before getting into my personal favorites off it, I thought I’d touch on the broader themes of the album. The first thing you’ll notice as a listener is the amount of detail in the sound design. In addition to unique instrumentation choices, the album features found sounds, foley effects, and even old recording clips. I find myself finding new hidden sounds in each listen through. Definitely a treat and a challenge to try and discern specific sounds upon analyzing it. The music and lyrics present an intricate puzzle with endless interpretations. My cup of tea!

Each song stands on its own and provides a different color and emotion for the listener to consider. Even with this independence, the music all feels cut from the same cloth. “I really wanted to make a collection of songs that felt like Chopin's Preludes in that they each have a distinct melody, a different shade of melancholy or sweetness, and don't overstay their welcome. I wanted each song to feel like it was an opener for the next.” This pursuit of Chopin naturally explains the prominence of the piano. Nick went on to tell me that this particular instrument the album was recorded on was Elliott Smith’s old piano at Jackpot Records in Portland. “I was actually the last person to record on it before it was moved to the Experience Music Project in Seattle. You can listen to his old demos of songs like ‘I Didn't Understand’ and hear the same character.” 

The thing I find most intriguing about the music and lyrics of Nick Jaina is that they have a way of capturing sentiments that are difficult to place. Being eerie and melancholic, while simultaneously warm and comforting. Like one of those paintings where things come into focus when stepping back and letting your eyes unfocus, there’s meaning in the text that becomes apparent by letting the music and lyrics blend into one. I encourage you to let your ears relax and unfocus as you listen, perhaps you’ll find some truth to my rambling!
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This track is the first tune I was exposed to on the album. Although when I first heard it, it was as the all cello arrangement by the Portland Cello Project. I made a post not too long ago discussing their album, which you can read about here and listen to that version. 

In addition to being my gateway into the music of Nick Jaina, “Power” is probably my favorite track on the album. Moans from the void and hums of electricity can be heard swelling in the background of a chugging piano, with weaving guitar, bass clarinet, and cello lines commenting on statements in the voice. The dense orchestration offers so much for the ear to cling on to. We hear the return of old instruments, most importantly the music box from the previous track, “Maryanne”. I never realized how much bass clarinet can sound like a buzzing lightbulb before listening to this track.

​​I interpret the lyrics as a kind of love song. Struggling to nurture affection amongst a set of impossible circumstances. Every time the characters get close to love, “they shut the power off”. The imagery of the full moon and power outages evokes the coziness of huddling on a couch as the walls creak and lights flicker from a raging storm outside.
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The tail end of “Power” serves as a pickup to “Bicycle”. The two songs feed directly into each other. Howling wind and creaking of an old bicycle underscore a gently lulling and eerie melody. One can’t help but imagine a flying bicycle floating amongst the clouds. Nick says, “‘Bicycle’ is me writing an escalating series of metaphors for how to depict the moon in a delightful way.” 

The lyrics end on a particularly sweet note. That despite all the trials and tribulations of life, “I will climb on my bicycle and carry the moon to your house”.

​Echoing chimes and bells from the immediately preceding “Interlude 15” flank a holy and earnest piano. A recurring chorus contrasts this warmth, introducing thunder and turbulence. Each verse becomes further entrenched, and the introduction of a choir further underlines the sorrow that is mixed into this hymn.

​I find the lyrics to present a scenario of unrequited love. Despite our character’s best efforts, it seems the subject of their affection has turned away from them. The contrasting verse and chorus serve as a reflection of this duality of care and bitterness.

Nick names his main influence on the tune as being Veda Hille’s “Tuktoyaktuk Hymn”. “I wanted a hymn of my own, something that feels timeless and holy.” The parallels between the two songs are unmistakable. The detailed peripheral sounds are an especially common motif between the two, giving both songs a sincere, but unstable aura.

​This is a fun one! I have to admit to pulling this progression out and improvising over it a few times. The fantastic combo of piano, bass clarinet, and violin create a satisfying bluesy feel that is addicting to listen to, and to play along with. I’ll definitely be bringing this to my next jam.

​​With clear lyrical similarities with the folk tune, Nick describes the song as “an homage to the old song "Lakes of Pontchartrain" and a document of a small town where my friends used to live. The ‘when it was good’/ ‘when it was bad’ dichotomy speaks to the difficult polarities of living with someone.”

​This one is another favorite of mine, right up there with “Power”. This tune compares cycles of love to seasons, juxtaposing the ending of a relationship to the winter, but finding hope in the solace that spring and new love might bring.

​Nick was inspired by Tom Waits’ "You Can Never Hold Back Spring" when writing "Springtime”. “It's hard to write really hopeful music that doesn't end up feeling shallow. I always want to acknowledge the darkness even when I talk about the Spring.” As a listener, I think it’s this balance of light with darkness that gives these songs their unique emotional impact.

​Thank you for joining me on a little walk through of one of my favorite albums! Special thank you to Nick Jaina for taking the time to answer my questions about the album, and give fascinating insight into a bit of the background behind it. It was a treat to get another deep dive into the work, and I hope I spurred some fellow music lovers into giving the full album a listen! Available here: (nickjaina.bandcamp.com/album/wool) (I highly recommend it!) Until next time, happy jamming!