Sarah Braunstein and Rchl Brwn discuss Zola Jesus’s latest release, Conatus, for AudioVole this week. The conversation digresses and regains focus. Sarah and Rchl like some of the same songs but also different ones. They both want to witness Zola’s freaky acid-trip opera when she gets around to writing it. Oh! And both Sarah and Rchl endorse Conatus for its mix of danceable, cryable, and lie-on-the-floorable tracks.
Zola Jesus – “Vessel”
Full album stream plus song by song breakdown from Zola Jesus here.
From: Sarah Braunstein
To: Rchl Brwn
Last Tuesday, Zola Jesus released her third full-length album Conatus (via Sacred Bones) following 2009’s The Spoils and last year’s Stridulum II. For those not familiar with Nika Roza Danilova, the petite (and young!) Russian-American powerhouse behind the Zola Jesus name, get thee to her site and take in a few of her earlier singles. And then come back here.
Rchl, I think Brandon mentioned that he introduced you to Zola Jesus a while back and you took to it. This is essentially everything I know about you since we’ve never spoken before! But even with that minutia of information, it’s clear we have at least one thing in common (the ZJ-liking, that is).
Always a little late to the party, I acquired both The Spoils and Stridulum at the same time early this year. It was when there seemed to be enough doom and gloom in mainstream indie rock that folks were slapping labels like “witch house” on every mildly dark act coming through the album release turnstiles. And we learned that Ellen Page liked the stuff. But Zola Jesus never seemed particularly witchy or goth-rock to me despite her interest in the aesthetics of apocalypse ( or, as Danilova has said, “everyone just running around in anarchy and crying and throwing up over each other”).
Sure, Danilova might’ve dropped “devil” in one or two of her song lyrics but the darkness was never the point; it’s just what came out of Danilova when she sat down to create music (and it’s all we could really hear through that lo-fi production). In The Spoils, I heard the downbeat lo-fi tracks of an artist unafraid to experiment with layering gritty (and sometimes unpleasant) samples; an artist who single-handedly produced impressively confident work despite her age, resources, etc. I listened and could picture the 19-year old Danilova working alone in her parents’ basement to record, sift, and compile her first full-length throughout an enduring rural Wisconsin winter. And then came Stridulum, complete with some poppy lightness that I felt compelled to play on repeat. I’m more than a sucker for pop music.
But on Conatus, we can hear so much more of the depth and dexterity that Danilova always possessed as a classically trained musician that was never realized on previous albums. Conatus sounds like a complete, free-standing album from an artist finally given a set of tools that match the caliber of her talent (thanks for doing that, Sacred Bones). And Zola Jesus takes advantage of this newly found production wealth by expanding her stylistic range. We still have tracks, like “Avalanche,” that sound like they could fit in on Stridulum. But then we get a little bit of “Zola the Diva” on “Seekir,” a driving track that would feel at home on the playlist of a really cool dance party (I’d like to be invited to that party, k thanks) and “Skin,” a slow and stripped down ballad featuring just Danilova’s voice, clear and strong, with light piano accompaniment.
OK, I’ve got a lot more to say but I’ll let you get a word in edgewise, Rchl. What’s your take on Conatus so far? And isn’t it awesome that we finally kicked all the boys out of AudioVole? It’s just you, me, and Zola at this slumber party.
“If it’s in your nature, you’ll never win,”
Sarah
Zola Jesus – “Lick The Palm Of The Burning Handshake”
From: Rchl Brwn
To: Sarah Braunstein
Yes, Brandon introduced me to Zola Jesus early this year and similarly I fell for her voice. While I generally stay within the metal and rock genres, I make many exceptions for dark and melancholy indie/pop (i.e. Au Revoir Simone, Fielded or Cat Power). It’s funny you mention the “witch house” label because I remember Brandon using that to describe Zola and I was like, “I don’t get it.” But the point is that labels and genres are unimportant to me if the music is moving, which I undoubtedly think Zola Jesus’s is.
Before diving into Conatus, I must thank you, Sarah, for sharing the brief background on Danilova that I never bothered to look up while listening to her music. I’m even more impressed given the two-week production time for Stridulum. And you’re right, I hear the classically trained opera diva now. I mean, it was clear that she had pipes but now the deep and full quality of her voice makes a little more sense. And on my last digression from the new album, I totally want to see her produce that sci-fi, acid bath opera she’s writing (Editor’s note: see end of this article for a description of Zola’s opera).
Ok. Conatus. Although I love the lo-fi production of the earlier Zola albums, Danilova rocks the higher quality production too without letting it get in the way. She’s a master at layering synths and drum beats that support her voice rather than cloud it. That said, I must admit that the album gets off to a slow start for me although I like the first three tracks very much. It’s with the fourth track, “Hikikomori,” that I am hooked into Conatus. I love the way the string-like synths dance around her devastated mantra of “Oh, I know I’m whole.” Honestly – and I’m bearing a bit of my private life here – I’ve repeated this to myself after bouts of complete emotional exhaustion (which Danilova was also experiencing when she wrote the track). With this song, she nails the bitter-sweetness of solitude.
My favorite track on this album is “Lick the Palm of the Burning Handshake.” There’s something about the way it swells and wanes, and then the apparent choir that chimes in toward the end of the song. It’s trance inducing. “Shivers” follows this track and I was literally singing along during the first listen! So, Danilova, if you’re seeking to create the perfect pop song, I think you’ve done it. I also appreciate that it’s not too cheesy, as pop songs tend to be (at least in my opinion). It’s even gloomy! Love. Then, I was completely taken with the way “Skin” follows with its delicate piano accompaniment. These three songs swept me up so high that when “Collapse” closed up the album, I felt devastated. I’m not sure if it’s the power of the emotion she infuses her songs with, but “it hurts to let you in,” Nika. It really does, and I love it. Sarah, if we were actually having a slumber party while listening to this album, I would be asking you to hold me by the end of it. I know we just met, but seriously.
So Sarah, I’m curious, which songs pull at your heartstrings the most? And do you agree with me about the slow build of the album?
“I would be nothing without your fear”
Rchl
Zola Jesus – “Sea Talk”
From: Sarah Braunstein
To: Rchl Brwn
Well, Rchl, I don’t disagree with the “slow build” perspective although I think much of this is deliberate on ZJ’s part and not necessarily a bad thing (I only mention that because it seemed like your take on this was leaning toward negative). “Swords” is – as the French and the foodies say – the amuse-bouche of the album. It’s a taste of what’s to come and it whets the palate for more industrial beats and sonic canyons that Zola Jesus seems so adept at conveying on Conatus. After that bite-sized track, ZJ serves up something familiar with “Avalanche” and Danilova even said that this is the oldest song on the album (I will, however, pat myself on the back for deducing this prior to reading Nika’s track run-down).
You mentioned that track four – “Hikikomori” – is the first to get its claws in you. For me, it’s a little earlier with the opening of “Vessel” (track three). I’ll follow those glitchy beats and vocal echoes anywhere, even if that means a dip in the sci-fi acid baths of Danilova’s freak-opera. Speaking of, did you ever listen to The Knife’s Darwin-inspired experimental opera “Tomorrow, In A Year“? I remember last year I started out listening to it while sitting at my kitchen table, upright and intent, but that seemed a little too civilized-modern-human for taking in something so visceral. I mean, I was listening to the sounds of primordial sludge for godssakes. I ended up lying on my back on the floor of my living room with my arms crossed over my face blocking out all light, telling myself I only had to make it through one complete listen of the opera. By the end, all the weird from those 80 minutes had sunken in and warped my brain to the point that I thought “Colouring of Pigeons” was a pop song. If you’re familiar with that track, you know that it’s quite spectacular and also that it’s definitely not a pop song. But my point (or observation, really) is that I feel this experience is analogous to you calling the Zola Jesus’s track “Shivers” the perfect pop song. Not to say that it isn’t poppy — it certainly has the simple lyrics and catchy melody characteristic of pop — but it also has an industrial electronic backbone. And it should be noted that there aren’t really any instruments or I-IV-V chord progressions conducive to air rocking-out. On Conatus, “Shivers” is definitely Gaga-esque and easy to hop aboard of but that might only be because we’ve submersed ourselves in a Zola Jesus sea. Everyone hanging out above will wrinkle their noses when we surface and say “Shivers” is perfect pop. And then they’ll ask if we actually meant that one Coldplay song.
But I digress. Rchl, you asked my opinion on what I think the standout tracks on Conatus are. Right now, I’m pretty into “Ixode.” This is surprising to me because I’m typically drawn to lyrically-driven songs (I like to sing along). But I get to 2:56 in “Ixode” and find the moment as emotive and powerful as any word-based melodic climax, possibly more so. And then I’m with you on “Lick The Palm of the Burning Handshake” and “Collapse.” Both of those tracks feel very authentically Zola Jesus but with a bit more polish and maturity. There’s a new light and warmth in these tracks, more than I could find anywhere on Stridulum but they still come from somewhere heavy. Zola described “Collapse” as “a song…that is like throwing my arms up, surrendering myself to this passion, to this record, to the people that will hear it. In the end, I have no control over anything, I have nothing.” That’s not true, Zola. You have me and Rchl and our slumber party. Maybe we can dive into some of those movies that inspired Conatus because I have never heard of any of them.
Rchl, I’m actually seeing Zola Jesus play tonight in Chicago. Let’s pretend for a second that I end up hanging out with Nika after the show (you never know). What should I talk to her about? What questions would you ask?
“We’ll become the only security, we’ll become the understanding”
Sarah
Zola Jesus – “Collapse”
From: Rchl Brwn
To: Sarah Braunstein
Wow. So many interesting associations and digressions! I’ll try to focus on Conatus, though. I agree that track three is the first to start poking me. It just didn’t grab deep enough, so the hooks ripped some of my flesh and had to come back for more during track four. But you know what? I’m listening to “Vessel” again right now and I love the distorted noise at the end! I actually think it’s this build up of tension that makes the clean beginning of “Hikikomori” stand out. Nika, keep giving me more of that dirty distortion please. It takes me back to all night industrial dance parties at the Phantasy in Lakewood, Ohio. Seriously though, the last minute of “Vessel” sounds like it could have come off a Skinny Puppy album. Awesome.
No, I have never heard The Knife’s experimental opera. How did I miss that? I love The Knife and Fever Ray. Thanks for putting me on to more weird music, Sarah! Oh, and I completely agree with you that my calling “Shivers” a perfect pop song comes from a twisted sense of Zola Jesus reality. Speaking of mutated perspectives, I have not seen any of those ten films Nika says inspired Conatus. I’m ashamed to admit that I studied film! I mean, they are so obscure that again her sensibility reminds me of the heyday of the guitar-driven industrial sound, when sampling bizarre films was commonplace. Her taste in film, the sci-fi opera work-in-progress (plus her voice and composition, of course) only augment my respect for her and plunge me deeper into our Zola Jesus ocean. I am so intrigued!
Damn! (I can’t say Fuck!, right?) [Editor’s note: She can say “Fuck!”] You’re at the Zola Jesus concert right now! What should you ask her? It seems so obvious. Sarah, ask her if she’d like to join our slumber party. I think we would have a great time watching movies, listening to music, lying on the floor and writhing in our collective pain. Or not. But I would like to ask her when the last time was that she laid on the floor to listen to music and what music it was. I know what it was for me. I was sharing the sorrow of Unearthly Trance’s Electrocution album with someone who had never heard it before. It was so intense we needed to bang our bodies on something hard. By the way, I think your phrase “primordial sludge” would be more apt to describe UT’s doom than something The Knife did. Nice, though. I like it.
Ok, enough of these digressions! In addition to what music has most recently caused her to thrash about on the floor, I would want to know what Nika Danilova’s favorite sci-fi novel and comic books are too. And… if she’d like to come to our slumber party. Hey! She’s playing NYC next week. Maybe you could come over from Chicago and we could really make this happen. No? Well, you can’t blame me for trying.
I love Conatus and think it’s a great record. I highly recommend it to those who like intelligent and moody, vocally driven, electronic music.
“Safety net don’t hold me now. In this hole, I’ve fallen down.”
Rchl
Get Conatus here:
Sacred Bones Records | Insound Vinyl | Amazon
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