Cassandra Jenkins quietly entered my musical consciousness in February, thanks to Pitchfork’s glowing review in their Best New Music section, where her album An Overview on Phenomenal Nature earned an impressive 8.3 out of 10. It wasn’t until a drive home from work, with all its usual distractions, that I truly connected with her music. The track that first grabbed my attention was ‘Ambiguous Norway’, the fifth song on the album. Hearing Jenkins sing, “Farewell, purple mountains,” followed by “No matter where I go / You’re gone, you’re everywhere,” I had to pause and ask myself, was that a reference to “Purple Mountains,” the band? It turned out to be exactly that.
Jenkins was scheduled to tour with David Berman’s band, Purple Mountains, in the autumn of 2019. Tragically, Berman passed away by suicide in August of that year. ‘Ambiguous Norway’ is set against the backdrop of a trip Jenkins took in the aftermath of this profound loss. This context is further revealed in ‘New Bikini’, where she sings, “After David passed away / My friends put me up for a few days / Off the coast of Norway”.
There’s a palpable sense of quiet shock in ‘Ambiguous Norway’. Its hushed and delicate nature feels like a tender farewell, akin to a final, gentle kiss. Jenkins’ devastation is evident (“Can’t seem to grasp what happened / I close my eyes”), yet even as the song concludes, there’s a hint of nascent healing. The track ends with Jenkins repeating, “I walk around alone / Laughing in the street / Laughing in the street / Laughing in the street”. I envision her in the stark Norwegian landscape, warmly recalling Berman’s life, their friendship, and his sharp wit. The repetition of “laughing” seems deliberate, a way to memorialize Berman’s humor alongside the deep sadness.
It feels as though the entirety of Phenomenal Nature is cast in the shadow of this significant loss, grappling either with the loss itself or the process of healing. The songs, importantly, offer a space for the possibility of healing and moving forward.
In ‘New Bikini’, Jenkins recounts how her loved ones encouraged her to find solace and restoration in the ocean: “If you’re bruised or scraped / Or any kind of broken / The water, it cures everything”. By the song’s end, she’s passing this wisdom along to a friend: “My friend Grey is sick again / The doctors shell out medicine / And add there might be something in / The mind-body connection / So I told him / Baby, let’s get you to the ocean”.
This act of receiving support and then extending that support to others is a theme Jenkins revisits in ‘Hard Drive’, a song that unfolds almost like a four-act play, perfect for contemplative listening during a long drive.
The first act of ‘Hard Drive’ opens with the voice of a security guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Art during the summer of 2019. She states, “When we lose our connection to nature / We lose our spirit, our humanity, our sense of self”. This sets a tone of reflection, ideal for considering our place in the world as we drive through landscapes.
Cassandra Jenkins live performance
Act two introduces a New Age mystic who speaks of “chakras and karma and the purple flame / The birth of the cosmos / The ascended masters and the astral plane”. This section encourages introspection and a broader perspective, much like the open road can inspire during a drive.
Act three features a friend, Darryl, teaching Jenkins to drive at the age of thirty-five. His driving instruction is far from typical: “Speeding up the west side / Changing lanes / He reminds me to leave room for grace”. This injects a sense of gentleness and patience, reminding us to be kind to ourselves, even – and perhaps especially – when navigating the challenges of the road, both literally and metaphorically. Driving becomes a metaphor for life’s journey, a common theme in songs suited for drives.
In the song’s fourth and final act, Jenkins encounters a healer: “I ran into Perry at Lowell’s place / Her gemstone eyes caught my gaze”. Whether they are acquainted or not is unclear, but Perry immediately senses something in Jenkins. She says, “Oh, dear, I can see you’ve had a rough few months / But this year / It’s gonna be a good one”. With intuitive kindness, she offers: “I’ll count to three and tap your shoulder / We’re gonna put your heart back together”. The song’s tempo seems to slow, mirroring a calming heartbeat as Perry continues: “So close your eyes / I’ll count to three / Take a deep breath / Count with me”.
A metallic guitar sound, like a meditation gong, emerges, and the song takes on a centered stillness, embodying the essence of a heart meditation. Jenkins sings “One, two, three / One, two, three / Just breathe / One, two, three / Count with me”. As the narrator within the song, Jenkins channels Perry’s healing words. However, as the singer of the song, these words of healing extend beyond the narrative, becoming a balm for the listener as well.
Within the context of the album, the heart being mended is Jenkins’ own, broken by grief for David Berman. But ‘Hard Drive’ transcends personal experience. It reaches out to anyone listening who feels overwhelmed, anxious, hurt, or lost. “One, two, three / Just breathe”, the song’s warm, wise voice gently encourages; “One, two, three / Count with me“. The underlying message is one of shared humanity and resilience: If I can heal, this voice suggests, you can too. I’m here with you. Just breathe. This makes ‘Hard Drive’ more than just a song; it becomes a companion, especially on drives when we often seek solace and introspection. Its meditative quality and focus on healing make it an exceptional choice for a Drive Song, providing a soundtrack for both the physical journey and the inner one.
