The first time I heard Jenny Banai at the Biltmore, she commenced her set by rocking onto her tiptoes and saying it’s past her bedtime. There’s a sweet strength in her vocal execution; the hops in her charming melodies are angelic and playful, yet not without power and specificity. Her music has a certain sophistication; notes are hit with precision. She is able to ebb her voice in dynamic with masterful control, rocking you gently into a dream, yet gripping your ears to keep you awake: lucid and loose. In keeping with her comforting sound, I had the pleasure of sharing some special Jenny homemade (vegan!) breakfast to talk about her practice, new and old albums alike, the trials of growing, and the nuances of her spirituality.

Ella Adkins: So before we start, let’s talk about your first album flowering head, from 2015. Upon listening to this, I recognized this sweet, dancey play on this album. It was captivating and easy to listen to. There is a pulse of percussion keeping me from floating off, yet a sweetness that lifts the corners of my mouth. And I feel I got lots of that from the title, flowering head.

Jenny Banai: You’re right in the fact that there is an easy listening aspect to them, and I’m really grateful for flowering head. I want more people to hear it. Those songs are still needed for me. I wrote some of them when I was a teenager, so I was sort of gathering everything and anything I’ve experienced. The album is really riddled with hope and joy, and childlike wonder at the world. It has songs I wrote on farm land when I was dreaming about what I could be and what I could do. For example, “Behind Me,” the long dreamlike song I usually open my sets with, is very reflective of who I am. That song came from the moments before going to sleep, when I feel so inspired by memories…The songs are like joyful prayers, expectant prayers of good things, whilst still holding the stresses, fears, pains, and memories and yet, releasing them. Then there is this freedom.

EA: There is such a reality to that first album weight, since the amount of material to sift through is a bit overwhelming. When would you say you started creating music?

JB: I don’t feel like me creating music has been a linear thing. People often ask me that and I’m like “what? I’ve always had music.” I feel like my life is an instrument. Sometimes I struggle with directness of words to describe this, but it’s not like, here is my music and then here is me. It’s just, well, all together.

EA: Hm, yeah, our spoken word can be limiting to describe the nuances of these inward convictions.

JB: Yes, of course, but by lending myself to music those words come. To cap off the discussion of flowering head, I’m feeling there is now a sense of moving on from something but I still hold those songs very close to me.

EA: What sounds are you listening to right now? Or better yet, what other music have you listened to recently?

JB: I’ve been listening to a lot of soft, instrumental piano compositions, namely Jean-Jacques Goldman. I’ve also been engaging with gospel music lately; prayerful, worship music. I find the intention and source of those songs bring me to a place where I connect with myself and with God. I listen, and even though sometimes I don’t love the overall production of those songs, I can sense the heart of the artist, and then its production doesn’t matter. Tasha Cobbs is [a] worship leader and it’s this powerful, beautiful, transcending experience listening to her sing, which is so different from things around me. I’m really interested in the history behind these songs. The church has a complicated history, especially for certain demographics, but yet there is a real strength of faith in these songs that is inspiring.

EA: So couchwalker is the title of your upcoming album. How is the creation process for this album?

JB: This album has been a bit of [a] struggle since it has been influenced strongly by the need (expectation) to create, which I think every artist can speak to. It has been 4 years, a process of writing and creation, of course mixed with being more sure about what I’m doing: inviting in management, being more business minded and those kinds of things. In contrast to my previous album, this album is about experiencing a different phase of my life that hasn’t been full of childlike wonder. I’ve had multiple heartbreaks in this time, and also had to really confront what I believe, wrestling with myself, my mind, and my relationship to God. There is this conversational verbal processing going on in these songs. Why I called it couchwalker is kind of abstract. The song “Couch Walker” is a reflection of that struggle: how do I relate to other people and myself and God and in turn, how do I grow up? How do I let go of things that I don’t need any more, that I learnt as a child, but then how do I hold on to those things that I do need to hold on to that I had as a child. So it’s this sorting through and not feeling the most joyful everyday. There is a lot more maturity to it, more experimentation. I started thinking about that idea of sitting on a couch, that idea of intimate conversations happening there, and that’s where relating usually starts with people, whether it is romantic, or whether it is getting to know a friend at a party. I’ve been on multiple couches…in this sense of walking between multiple couches, on these different couch spaces. I sing about this image about walking on a tightrope, speaking to this imbalance or falling off when I’m trying to connect with people, especially in romantic intimate situations. In that, there is a realization that I have to laugh and be playful still, even though I’m an adult.

EA: Wow, that’s very relatable, this feeling of having a toe in playfulness and the lightness of being young and carefree, yet also having the responsibility of “adulting,” and yes, there are many situations that require that type of seriousness. It’s always a matter of asking the question, when do we lighten up?

JB: Yes, and the sounds are very journey-like, which speaks to the overall theme of the album. There were preconceived ideas going into the studio, but a lot of the sounds were discovered in studio, specifically with the analog piano and synth. We recorded at Afterlife Studios, which is analog focused. The reverb you’re using is from the space. I mean, you can do so much with computers these days, but I enjoyed the intention and exposure of my voice and strings. Having Scott Currie on the co-production was a treat. He’s a very emotional musician, barely took a lesson, but can pick up anything and find the sound to fit the emotion. Again, it’s this process of knowing in part and then discovery afterwards, and saying “there it is!” In the studio, it all felt very restful. It’s really beautiful, because no one really knew what it was going to be. Part of me feels like this album is hurting my pride a little bit since I don’t know if I should be proud of it. I didn’t know what I was doing and going into it emotionally. Looking back on it, I think, “does this mean anything?” But it speaks to so much of how sometimes things I’m creating are much more than me. Sometimes you aren’t sure, but you are trusting and doing it because it feels right.

EA: Would you say that feeling of not knowing what you were writing about partly came from the fact that you felt like you had to write this album? The pressure of something new having to occur?

JB: Definitely, and I had to catch myself and be honest in these moments. It’s been a year and a half, and part of why it has taken so long [is] because I had to give time to those moments of stepping away. I’ve never wanted to make albums just because I had to. It was also a bit due to feeling lost to this and not feeling as grounded. But that’s the thing that needs to be said!

EA: I’m curious about your creative process, in a more general sense. Do you have any requirements for yourself to create: environmentally, energetically, places you like to go to?

JB: If I could, I would love to create in the morning. I could be as loud as a possibly could. Morning time is for me, the time that I’m waking out of sleep, but I’m still in this internal space, a lucid space, close to God therefore close to my heart. From that space, there are more spaces to create. I do have to push myself to work at things. I sometimes write something, poem or journal entry, and I look through there, to find the things that are going on in my heart and think, “is it meaningful, and should I write about it?” Writing and playing, chord progressions; puzzle pieces that end up turning into something. I find I have to let myself be okay to edit things. When you’re creating it, it’s sacred and special, but then there’s this necessary revisiting, and realizing its best construction. Which I don’t enjoy too much, since I’m very much a feeling person.

EA: Do you like to work in silence? What kinds of sounds do you surround yourself with when creating?

JB: When I was In Ireland, we happened upon staying with all these college students who had transformed their living space into a jam space…It was almost expected that everyone is playing music in that space, and spaces like that create a real fertile environment for creation. So I don’t think it depends on quiet. It depends on the environment, and that the environment is cohesive, welcoming, safe, and relatable. If there’s a bunch of people around, I can write, as long as everyone is down. It has to do with whether or not there is an invitation to create in space.

You can expect to hear Jenny’s new music by February 2020. For now, stay tuned, follow her on Instagram, and listen on Bandcamp.

SAD Online

Jenny Banai: Life is an instrument