motel void

Nick Jaina is a musician and author originally from Sacramento, who has also lived in Portland, New York, and New Orleans. Alongside his literary achievements, he released more than a dozen albums, and composed ballets as well as film scores. Here, we take a closer look at his latest record The Monster Mash.

Though it features eleven tracks, the album runs just 26 minutes. Its sparse instrumentation forces Jaina to say more with less – there’s no indulgence, no unnecessary repetition. The opener Strange Undertaking begins with the line “My head is always one step ahead, it’s always trying to hang the painting before it’s been painted,” setting the tone for an album where lyrics are central rather than decorative. Given Jaina’s background as a writer, it comes as no surprise that words take on a heightened significance here.

Instrumentally, the raw approach works beautifully. Paired with introspective and weighty lyrics, it evokes the spirit of David Berman (Silver Jews, Purple Mountains), both in mood and atmosphere. Jaina often relies on minimal arrangements – usually just guitar and voice, with the occasional gentle synth, as in Behave. The third track, We Know the Monster Mash, stands out with ambient layers that emerge about a third of the way in. Simple melodic figures create a hypnotic atmosphere that could easily stretch out for much longer. The song’s poetic imagery, coupled with Jaina’s deep, commanding voice, once again recalls Berman’s work.

The promised instrumental arrives with Pier 70, a brief one-minute vignette of guitar and murmurs. It instantly transported me back to my time working in Seattle, on one of the city’s famous piers overlooking the restless waters of Puget Sound.

The jazz-tinged Today Is Not Like Other Days follows, leading into the subtle There’s Nothing I Can Do for You and The City of Spare Parts, the latter echoing the slow-burning melancholy of Leonard Cohen. Like Pier 70 earlier, the interlude The Covenant provides a moment of space before the final trio of songs. Down, Down, Down brings acoustic guitar and piano into focus, with an Elliott Smith-like intimacy. “If you want to take this road to hell, I can shake your hand and wish you well, but I can’t go with you, if you go down,” Jaina sings. The album closes with A Place for All of Us, its piano-and-synth backdrop supporting Jaina’s voice as it reaches higher registers, leaving a haunting final impression.

Reviewing an artist who is also a writer can be delicate, but here it feels essential. The Monster Mash is personal, filled with vivid imagery that many listeners will recognize in their own lives. At its core, the album celebrates not fitting neatly into categories. It’s a moving work for anyone who has ever felt slightly out of step with the mainstream – and found meaning in that difference.

This review was made possible by SubmitHub

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