Indie DIY pop outfit JESK has released their 5-song, 25-minute EP ‘Boombox Odyssey.’ This Boulder-based band is a spellbinding collective with revolving members. The core musicians include: Tristan Hammond (bass), Casey Deitz (drums), and Michael Cameron (guitar).

According to the group, Jesk’s preference is to trade the typical fixed front person model for a “revolving cast of friends and strangers.” The result? An exhilarating sonic mixed bag, with stunning guest vocals. As they say, “Sure, the old models are well and good… but (we) have something else in mind!”

Inside ‘Boombox Odyssey’ you will indeed find a hero’s journey of sounds… from tasty jazzish licks to rich moments of noir indie intertwined with prog metal. The opener, ‘Elgin & Beat, Thumbs Up,’ features artist Pat Ford. This seed of the journey (a reason for Odysseus to set sail) is full of nostalgic, rolling, marchy snares and a touch of lyrical whimsy. Then the bass drops, and everything is tinged menacing, which is then directly contrasted by the perky, melodious guitar line. The vocal stack layers up to the next sonic landmark: “Concourse, between the living and the dead,” quickly followed by “I can talk, but I’d rather chirp, say what the birds say.” A synergistic cacophony culminates into the words “As I tremble.” Suddenly, the wind dies down, and we get a bit math rockish. This descends to this Blue Foundation-esque feeling, followed by a French indie mysterioso of a sound bath.

The group has coy lyricism and a beating soul. Throughout the EP they hint at something oceanic deep, a taste of metalcore akin to Sleep Token, but only just a touch. And to think, we’re still only at the beginning of the journey. Both tracks 1 and 2 are significantly longer than the average 3.5-minute “radio” pop song, and it’s oh-so refreshing to take a break from the staunch patterns of cookie-cutter pop (and to reach into something directly from la terre).

Track 2, ‘Slappers Only’ (ft. Dani), brings to mind powerful, exotic, and slightly heavier tones—like Spirit Box and Paramore had a lovechild with a locked-in indie band. Then there’s a dirge-like combination between the bassline and flowingly intricate drums. Is this a dare, a haunting? One thing is for certain: it’s cerebral, shadowy, and completely delicious. Then the double hits amp up the pressure rhythmically, and then we glitch away, grimy and catchy, with ringing drums and pleasant din.

Next, ‘Multiplayer On Archives’ (Ailiani Pedroza) takes the gliding stepwise guitar from earlier and places it in a bed of sound underneath a silky lead vocal—a combination that makes us think of the word “daydreaming.” The meat of ‘Boombox Odyssey’ features two vocalists that remind us of muses… or sirens, perhaps, about to drag us (happily) to the deep, dark waters. This song marks the halfway point of the EP and takes a sharp timbral turn midway through, changing from what might be likened to a mild pop punkish voice to one that is far more soulful and groovy, near jazzy, Cherise-esque.

The end of track 3 has a reprise, a return to an earlier theme, but lusher and with more vocal layers and harmonies, and ends with an echoing jam. Next, ‘Dips for Dinner’ (Narrowcast) begins at a distance and ever so slowly comes forward, opens up. Melancholic. Tiny Moving Parts-esque. Poetic.

‘Dips for Dinner’ gives us a dose of reality and gets to the heart of human pain. It talks of overdoses, fear of failing, impermanence. Just when we think it is going to end unresolved with a curt, pained lyric—“I am”—the emotional tone is flipped, and we get treated to beautiful, ethereal, fingerpicked phrases to see the song out.

We close with the vampiric, supernatural ‘100 Percent Shrunken Head Vibes.’ The introduction of the song is full of intrigue, as the vocals are buried in the deep drums and bass until we hear, “There’s some new blood, and it’s fresher than virgin eyes, 125 years to try, and you’re stuck…” It feels like we are watching someone perform a ritual, or sneak around outside someone’s window… nefarious, pagan. It then ends with the looming yet sentient phrase, “You don’t remember yourself.”

As the EP comes to a close, one can’t help but take a moment to reflect and soak in the beautiful odyssey we’ve just encountered.

“We described it as getting sucked into a shitty boombox, using music as our weapon to get out.”

Is “Elgin” a place in Illinois? Is the song about a thinning of the veil, a city?

Tristan: Elgin? Yes. Yes it is. Over to you, Pat!

Mike: It depends on what you mean by “place.”

Pat: Yeah, I’d say that’s accurate. The song came from a dream I had where I was on an elevated walkway above the Fox River in Elgin, Illinois, on a beautiful night, and I was hanging out with relatives who have passed away. The walkway turned into an aerial gondola and allowed us to see all these new views of the city. My lyrics are always flexible to interpretation and I try to trade in the subconscious as much as that’s possible. But one thing I want to communicate here is that dreams and engagement with art can help us to better understand mysterious or perplexing things, such as a city or a person that has died.

The vocals in track 2 are absolutely wonderful, indulgent, and haunting. How were they recorded and processed, and what was Diani’s vocal technique like in this one?

Diani: I did not have a vocal technique. This was all very new to me! I am a hip-hop/R&B artist, so it was different than what I was used to. I did not know how to approach the track… like at all! Still, I wanted to push myself because I really loved the instrumental, and I did not want to put myself in a box—something I hate when others do to me. I wrote some words before coming to the studio, but it really came to life during the recording. I just recorded what came to me and what I felt made sense for the track. This song took two studio sessions because I really wanted to execute my ideas.

You call your EP an ‘Odyssey.’ Were there any moments you felt inspired by Greek mythology in your creative process?

Tristan: I think this was a fairly retrospective decision after the songs were written, but before the EP was finished for release. In general, the act of writing together with new people, the use of entirely foreign processes for both writing and recording, vocalists getting long COVID, insane positive and negative life and family events for people, discovering the identity of the sonic trajectory we wanted to create together, the juggling of so many schedules… it really felt like an at-times perilous journey with a whole lot of “come on, are you kidding me?!” style speed bumps that seemed as though they could be divine intervention. Mike and I also had a conversation about how the EP flow felt to us musically, and we described it as getting sucked into a shitty boombox, using music as our weapon to get out, losing a battle, then winning the war and returning to reality. I would say the combination of all our hindsight feelings toward the EP led us to the title, and there was some influence from the symbolic parallels we were feeling with ‘The Odyssey.’

Mike: On top of this, to put it plainly, it has at times felt like a quest with no conclusion in sight, and that’s okay. Some of this is owed to our meticulous process, as well as the occasional inability to ignore the siren song that takes the form of new songs, ideas, etc.

‘Dips for Dinner’ is the only song that feels decidedly bare and desolate. Where did this song come from, and do you feel you derived power by being able to be free enough to express the emotions inside the song?

Tristan: Speaking of just the music, some of our intent with this EP was to be sparse in places or ways that created a little extra space sometimes, and this song ended up being probably the most representative of that. The mostly electronic drums lending to a more pared-back sound was intentional, but also something we felt weird and nervous about because there was a lack of comfort in it. But that also speaks to the project as a whole, as we’re always trying to force each other out of our comfort zones to just try shit and see if we like it. As to whether or not the end result sufficiently communicated that additional space for emotion or power, I’m hoping the answer is yes but will leave that up to listeners to decide. I’m not your dad!

What does “You don’t remember yourself” mean, and who is the character or person singing this dark mantra?

Tristan: There are two very different answers to this. The song was written about Beetlejuice from the perspective of a viewer. It’s about his selfishness, and the fact that he is where he is because at some point along the way he lost himself and became this bastion of selfishness, lack of accountability, lack of awareness or introspection, and deceit. The other answer is that I later realized it could absolutely serve as a song about someone who was in my life for a very long time, who I had to cut out specifically due to selfishness, lack of accountability, lack of awareness or introspection, lack of participation, and deceit. I have to imagine there was some subconscious magic going on there, but brains are a wild place so who knows.

Finally, another question semi-related to the last track (‘100 Percent Shrunken Head Vibes’). You guys have the perfect balance of seriousness vs. play in your work. How does one achieve such a thing?

Tristan: Honesty. I jest, but none of us are wholly serious people, and to present ourselves that way would feel nothing short of pretentious or phony. We also love what we do, love the act of creating, and take it seriously, so we don’t want to just register as a joke to ourselves or others. I don’t think there’s any conscious or planned effort in terms of how we do or will balance that. We just try to be ourselves, make music we would want to hear, and make each other laugh a lot.

Mike: I’m glad to hear that this is something others have picked up on. But that’s just it: if you’re deliberately trying to strike that balance, you’re almost certain to miss the mark, or at the very least you run the risk of being inauthentic. People have remarkable talent for sniffing out fraud. What’s more, I feel like we have precisely zero ability to mask our personalities, so this is a direct reflection of who we are as human beans. Also, at the risk of sounding a bit cliché, we have a deep connection to music; the creative process is our core and everything else is sort of incidental.

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