Jouska
Norwegian pop artist Jouska stops by to detail her latest record and share a few records she's been listening to lately.
Jouska’s last album, Suddenly My Mind Is Blank, was the soundtrack to my 2023, an infectious blend of upbeat alt-pop and dark wave electro that wormed its way into my head with songs about the oddities of selfhood, unresolved relationships, and one of the best horoscopes ever put to tape. I’ve been anticipating its follow-up ever since “Flower Moon” appeared back in June, and last month it finally arrived. As was hinted at by the singles leading up to release, How Did I Wind Up Here? finds Jouska in a decidedly different place than she was two and half years ago. While the core elements of her sound remain, there’s a newfound sense of fatigue and melancholy that colors her music. Unlike its predecessor, which tended to view struggle optimistically as a necessary step of becoming, this latest record finds Jouska weighed down by trying times on personal and global stages. It’s another triumph in my humble opinion, a signpost to gather round for anyone searching for their own meaning amidst change. I was thrilled to chat with Jouska over e-mail and get her thoughts on How Did I Wind Up Here? and some of the music she’s been listening to lately.
Nick DeMasi: Where is the “here” in the album’s title?
Jouska: It’s kind of hard to explain. It’s not a real place, it’s emotional. Like… how did I end up feeling this way? Living this way? Acting this way? I was unhappy, anxious, regretful; and it felt like time had just flown by, like I had wasted so much of it not being who I wanted to be. I was getting older and things were happening that were making me question everything about myself and my life.
Overall I’d characterize this record as more somber and subdued than its predecessor, the tone of the production is colder and the lyrics and vocals have a distance to them, almost as if they’re being experienced by someone else. What transpired over the last two years that led to this shift in sound and perspective?
Some personal things were happening that I had never experienced before, and it really shook me. It felt like the ground disappeared beneath me, and suddenly everything I once relied on was gone. So I think I unconsciously went back and listened to the music that I listened to in high school, when I also had this kind of existential sorrow; all the melancholic indie, singer-songwriter, folk-rock that was my soundtrack in those days. I think that naturally seeped into what I was making. It just made sense for the songs to sound like that, more raw, honest, and organic; like a more grown-up version of the 16-year-old me who felt everything so intensely. It paints a picture of how I felt on the inside.
One of my favorite songs on this new record is named after the state I live in, California. When did you visit and why did you write about it?
I visited LA for the first time in fall 2023. I’d never been outside of Europe before, never traveled that far or for that long. Everything felt bizarre and unreal, but also strangely calm. It gave me space from myself; waking up when people in Norway were going to bed, spending my days in the sun looking at coyotes and turtles, meeting new people, and having shallow conversations. It was a nice relief.
You co-wrote and co-produced this record with Hans Olav Settem, can you tell me more about your collaborative relationship? How do you two typically work together and did that approach change at all on this project?
Jouska actually started as our project when we were around 19. We were both new to music production and songwriting, so we just experimented and learned together. The project has gone through a lot of different eras because of that. We were a duo until the last album, but it naturally became more personal and more “me.” Hans is still very involved in the writing and production, though. We’re also a couple, and have been for around 10 years, so separating things a bit has been good for us too.
On Suddenly My Mind Is Blank you have a track called “Why’d You Leave Me In The Red?” and on How Did I Wind Up Here? you have a song called “Why Won’t You Talk To Me?” What do you like about titling songs as questions?
That’s very observant! I think it feels like confronting someone, but in a way that’s safe for me. Sometimes the questions are toward specific people who hurt me, or people I can’t talk to anymore. It gives me a bit of relief, like I am confronting them even if they’ll never hear it.
“I Let It Happen” is a devastating track that gets at the connection between awareness and responsibility. In our hyper-connected world, how do you manage navigating the minutiae of daily life against the backdrop of tremendous atrocities occurring in places like Palestine?
I honestly don’t know how to navigate it. It feels unbearable to witness these horrors happening while at the same time continue living my everyday life. There’s this constant heaviness and guilt, knowing what’s going on, and knowing how little I can do to help. I try to stay present and aware, but I’m also painfully conscious of my own safety and comfort. I get to live my life with the people I love while others are fighting to survive, and the world just watches them like animals in a cage. I feel complicit simply by getting to live, and by growing numb when it all becomes too overwhelming. That scares me more than anything: that the world will adapt to this cruelty and injustice, and that it will become background noise. It’s heartbreaking and terrifying.
What Jouska Listened To Last Week:
The Radio Dept. – Pet Grief
This album has been a constant in my life, but lately it feels even closer. There’s something so nostalgic and foggy about their sound, like memories you can’t quite hold onto. It’s sad and comforting at the same time, and that mix of distance and intimacy has influenced me a lot.
ML Buch – Suntub
This record completely reignited something in me. It feels like a dream you can walk around in, constantly shifting, full of tiny details you only notice the tenth time you listen. It reminds me why I love making music in the first place.
Boards of Canada – Music Has the Right to Children
I always come back to this album. It’s beautiful but slightly unsettling, like there’s something hiding underneath. That atmosphere is comforting and eerie all at once, and this is something I connect to deeply and want in my own music.