Music and Lyrics by Jen Hannah
Jen Hannah: All Vocals, Drum Programming
with
Andreas Schuld: Guitars, Drum Programming, Engineering
Finn Manniche: Cello
John Hegner: Piano
Produced by Jen Hannah
Music will always find you. Even when you may not be ready for it, it is always ready for you.
Dear readers and listeners, I have to admit that I was more than a little anxious and even trepidacious about the song that I am preparing to describe to you. But first, I have to give you the backstory...
Nearly two and a half years ago, I wrote about an artist named Jen Hannah. I received a copy of her 2011 debut album "Grateful" (as profiled in the April 2011 section of this blogsite) as a series of digital files and slowly, I began to find myself emotionally taken with the album's quiet power as conveyed through Hannah's deceptively simple songwriting and lyricism and most definitely, through the rich and enveloping warmth of her actual singing voice, which truly evokes the solemn and seductive pull of singers like Karen Carpenter and Dido.
Sometime in late January or possibly very early February of this year, I found a brand new digital file waiting for me inside of my in-box, a file described as the Master recording of Jen Hannah's new, and as of yet unreleased single, entitled "Breathe." Under normal circumstances, any new piece of music, especially one directly delivered to me, would've propelled me to click open my computer's media player to begin listening immediately. But this time, I paused. Not because of any issues pertaining to lack of time or the hour being too late in the evening to delve into something new. I was honestly trepidacious as to what I would potentially hear. I was actually quite nervously apprehensive as I was envisioning the song would provide the very type of undertaking that I just did not want to deal with yet. And still, there it was. Silently, patiently waiting for me.
To explain even further, the song "Breathe" arrived to me during a tumultuous period within my life. First of all, and as with so many of you, I was forging ahead through an unprecedented, brutally unforgiving and seemingly endless Winter, starring not one but two appearances of what would be known as the "Polar Vortex," plus the seemingly constant snowfalls, shoveling, ice storms and all of the stresses that accompanied them in regards to travelling and driving around my city. It was more than enough to place my spirit into a dark mood.
Secondly, and without going into any extensive details, my life as a preschool teacher this year has proven to be one of my most challenging years, as it has been confounding, distressing, defeating and saddening for myself and my co-teachers as we have been faced with a roomful of family crises that none of us have ever dealt with before, thus placing us in the position of being social workers attempting to hold 20 young lives together rather than performing the actual act of "teaching."
In addition to that, there was the passing of my Grandmother, who made her transition near the end of January at the age of 93. At that time, I had just traveled from Wisconsin to Illinois for her funeral, at which I was a pall bearer, a task which I know I will one day be asked to take on again and will also dread every second of it. It was an experience that I accept as a fact of life, as well as a fact of her own blessedly lengthy life, but as she seemed to be so immortal, I guess the reality of her not being in the world in any physical form remains unfathomable to me.
All of those issues combined and then compounded with grief, mourning and dealing with the fact that despite what one is feeling, life continues onwards, was more than enough to make me want to just roll up and hibernate for the remainder of Winter to escape the overwhelming sadness that I was trying to keep at bay. Seeing that actual hibernation was not an option, perhaps I could at least drown out the stresses and the sadness with all manner of distractions, including music--and the louder the guitars and drums, the better.
And then, "Breathe" appeared.
Somehow, I knew what would be there waiting for me within the song and I just couldn't face it. Jen Hannah's voice is so supremely natural, so beautiful and pure, so unaffected and sublime, that the unencumbered qualities of it are so entirely disarming, that it just feels...naked. And therefore, your reaction to her voice is equally naked in turn. I think in the precise moments, it feels as if whatever walls you have erected have tumbled down, all forms of irony and cynicism have been eroded and your nerve endings are exposed. At least, when I hear Jen Hannah's voice, I can say that is exactly what happens to me.
So, one night as I sat at my computer, there was the digital file, still waiting for me to play it and I just could not make myself click on the proper button. I sat there and just looked at that digital file for what seemed like hours, even though it was less than even one minute, as I felt prepared yet so unprepared for what feelings I may encounter upon hearing this music. I just didn't feel ready but I had to try it and give it a chance, didn't I? If I could not just devote 5 minutes and 15 seconds of my life to something that was sent to me as a gift, then what would that say or suggest? I finally forced myself to click the "PLAY" button on the screen and I began to listen...
The first sounds of the song "Breathe" is a guitar, delicately performed by Andreas Schuld. Slow, quiet, slightly lulling and tender. Mere moments after this acoustic introduction, Hannah begins to sing the following words...
"Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in...again..."
I clicked the song off right then and there, mentally saying to myself, "I can't do this now."
What stopped me in my tracks was the very quality that draws me to Jen Hannah's music the most. Hannah's voice, simultaneously Maternal and lushly comforting, entirely and instantly upended me and I was immediately faced with the feeling that the floodgates I had been holding back would potentially flow without warning and then, be unable to cease. I just couldn't do it. I could not listen to that voice at that moment, even though it was sent to me in kindness, support and healing.
And so it sat in silence for many more weeks...
In the interim, I continued to listen to a large amount of music of course, including "Morning Phase," the latest album from Beck, and one I profiled just last month Within that posting, I included a quotation from comedian Louis CK concerning our need as human beings (especially in our overly technological age and dependency) to be able to find the beauty in being alone and without distractions and when we find ourselves in those times, we should not retreat from oncoming waves of sadness but to just allow ourselves to be steamrolled by those emotions. To ride that wave of melancholy to its fullest and then experience what occurs on the other side of that wave. I included that quotation as it described the feelings I went through as I listened to and loved that particular album. And even still, I kept Jen Hannah's song at a distance. Because, I rationalized, Beck's album did contain a certain window dressing that I could hang myself onto, from the production to the stunning string arrangements and so on. For all of its lush beauty, Beck's album was not something that I could consider to be as naked as Jen Hannah's material.
Finally feeling a sense of bravery, as well as frustration with myself at my behavior towards an unheard song, near the end of March, I finally made myself burn the digital file to CD, so I could at last listen to the entire song in the car in solitude...and if I fell apart, then so be it.
And so, very early before sunrise and on my way to work, I finally listened to "Breathe" in its entirety...
As before, "Breathe" greeted me with the soft, gentle guitar notes and the solemn warmth of Jen Hannah's instructions, which soothingly concludes with her melodic humming. Then, the lyrics arrive...
"In the still of night/I am called," she begins quietly and accompanied by Finn Manniche's subtle, empathetic and non-intrusive cello. "And even though fears arise/I will walk the road ahead," Hannah continues as the song gradually builds towards the first verse's climax in which she sings, "I will walk/for Life is wise." What struck me about this moment in the song, the point in which we return to the chorus and our ears are met with the rise of a cymbal wash, is how Hannah essentially tricked me. That rise in her voice and the arrival of that cymbal wash, seemed to signal that "Breathe" was ready to begin taking off in that standard fashion, the standard that lets the listener know that we will be ascending towards some musical peak where the singer will soon find themselves in what sounds to be a near operatic aria. But, in this case, it is not to be...and frankly, I was happily surprised that it didn't.
"Breathe" continues on its muted yet graceful path in a most soulful way as the instrumentation, now including John Hegner's piano and very tasteful drum programming by Hannah and Schuld, begins a purposefully slow march forwards...and a march is precisely what this song happens to be. Hannah sings, "Even though I don’t know/What lies ahead/And doubts arise/I will follow one step at a time/I will follow as Spirit guides." Those words, while some might feel to be indirectly religious or at least hymnal and possibly so, truly struck a chord within me as they superbly echoed some of the most spiritual music that I tend to listen to normally. Take Pete Townshend's more meditative and overtly spiritual musical prayers like 1972's "Parvardigar" or 1982's "The Sea Refuses No River," for instance. Or even my beloved Todd Rundgren's defiantly individualistic lyrics from his 1975 prog rock/fusion track "Initiation" when he sings, "Where my spirit says to go/you know that's were I must go." It became clear to me and my ears that Jen Hannah is cut from the very same cloth as these musical figures that have heroically enriched my life for so much of my life.
Skillfully, Hannah switches the perspective of "Breathe"' which began as a set of gentle, persistent instructions to the listener to simultaneously becoming an inner dialogue to herself, and still, keeping every sound in elegant control and not spiraling off into histrionics. In this age of such excess, it is truly a gift to hear an artist who truly understands that to covey strength and some sort of musical approximation of the human spirit, that sometimes the strongest actions occur when we are at our most fragile.
The song arrives at its mid-section, as she sings "Step by step/And breath by breath/Here I am/I surrender." You can hear the tentativeness in the the song's rhythm, which moves then pauses and moves again, yet Hannah's voice flows through without interruption. And then, there is that notion of "surrender." Much like that aforementioned Louis CK quotation, "Breathe" taps effortlessly into the emotional wellspring that suggests strongly that sometimes, we need to fall apart just in order to pull ourselves back together and move forwards again. To ride that emotional wave and find ourselves transformed on the other side. Feeling as if we cannot move even one pace yet somehow finding the impetus to make even one step at all is fully acknowledging a tenacity of the human spirit that is capable but sometimes, or often, so difficult to locate and summon. But, for so many of us, we still do.
From here, "Breathe" returns to its chorus and makes its way to its conclusion, which finds Hannah's sweet hums caressing our ears wonderfully into the song's fade out. For a song this delicate, one may find "Breathe" to be ethereal but trust me, do not let the calmness of the song fool you, for I felt turbulence within the words and the feeling that the lyrics were not a collection of easy sentiments but something lived in and therefore, learned and now shared. Jen Hannah's "Breathe" is a song that is firmly and powerfully grounded.
What amazes me about Jen Hannah's songwriting, production, and arrangements is that she never allows any sonic treatments to get in the way of her lyrics and her voice. Like her album "Grateful," it feels as if every sound is designed to be built in support of her words and voice, making a foundation so strong that if her words and voice were not on the track, then the music would just float away. As I also stated in my posting about "Grateful," this is indeed not the sort of music that I would typically gravitate towards. But, when I hear it, she does make me think of someone like Joni Mitchell (you may also even hear traces of Sarah McLachlan) as Hannah somehow gives the song space to..ahem..breathe. Hannah finds the music not only within the music itself but in the spaces between the notes, making the silences as essential as the notes that are played and sung. It is such a gifted quality she possesses and she utilizes a certain economy of her musical language to create a world of emotions with so seemingly little.
The same could equally be said for her lyrics. If you just had the lyric sheet in front of you, you may feel that her words are fairly simplistic. Well, they are simplistic but in the best possible fashion as she clearly does not need to say any more than she does, so why waste words trying to fabricate an elegance that already exists so exquisitely? For "Breathe," Jen Hannah also, and oddly enough, reminded me very much of the children's book author/illustrator and novelist (as well as Madison resident and native) Kevin Henkes, who created cherished picture books like Chrysanthemum, Owen, and Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse, plus the beautifully empathetic young adult novels Words Of Stone, Protecting Marie, and Bird Lake Moon among others. Henkes is a writer who also finds a tremendous amount of grace through a strict economy of words that expresses all that could ever be expressed but as simply as possible. Jen Hannah finds the perfect words for the perfect moments thus making a song that will floor you without being sonically overwhelming or in that overwrought way that clutters radio stations and television singing competition programs.
And so, having heard the song, did I fall apart upon first listen? Well...no, actually. I didn't. I was undeniably moved but no tears fell on that first listen. Or the second. Or the third, fourth, eighth, or twentieth. I have listened to "Breathe" with incredible frequency lately, having heard it more times than I have heard her album "Grateful." Its richness keep surprising me and I am just struck with how the song's pull grabs me so instantly and just as sharply as that first time.
And then, without warning one day, it indeed happened. "Breathe" hit me in that inexplicable place where I could do nothing but cry. And cry...and cry....and what did I do?
I pulled into a parking lot and rode that wave until I emerged on the other side. And then, I did as the song said. I breathed in. I breathed out. I breathed in again and moved forwards once again.
Thank you, Jen. For having something I needed before I even knew that I needed it.
CODA:
Dear readers, maybe this is something you will need, and fall in love with too. I strongly invite all of you to visit Jen Hannah's website at http://jenhannahsings.com/ for information all about her, her album "Grateful," her upcoming projects and of course, watch for "Breathe" once it arrives!!!
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