In a 2007 This American Life interview with music legend Phil Collins, journalist Starlee Kine asks for help navigating life after a gnarly breakup. His music had been a major part of the dissolved relationship in question, so Kine turned to the former Genesis frontman for guidance. She asks point-blank if she’ll ever stop feeling bad, and Collins responds with a devastating read: “But you kind of like feeling bad, don’t you?”
Zahara Jaime, who has recorded under the name zzzahara for the last half-decade, finds themself at a similar crossroads. They may not like the heartache they’ve been living with since their long-term relationship came to a screeching halt, but their latest album Spiral Your Way Out evokes the sick pleasure that comes from the pain of feeling your biggest feelings: “I was so mad I couldn’t think,” they wail on the bouncy opening track. “All I did was lay in bed and scream.”
“I’d never really written a breakup album before. I mean, I’ve touched on love and loss, situationships and stuff like that. But this was a lot for me to process,” the 30-year-old L.A. native tells Boulder Weekly on a video call ahead of their April 1 show at Denver’s Skylark Lounge. “My ex was my neighbor, and so were all my friends, so that breakup was a big rift in my life. Seeing them all hanging out afterwards, seeing her move on so quick and my friends accepting the person she moved on with — that fucked me up, to be honest.”
It might come as a surprise, then, to hear Jaime describe the resulting songs that poured out of them in a three-month burst as “fun.” But it makes more sense when you hear the sunny fusion of shoulder-shrugging skater rock, bedroom pop and fifth-wave emo bringing levity to their forlorn lyrics about fizzled romance.
“A lot of the things I would play before were just dreamy riffs,” they say of previous albums Tender and liminal spaces, both more subdued affairs than their latest for independent Lex Records. “But with this, I get to use my distortion pedal more. I get to use my overdrive more. The songs have more of a rock feel to them. That makes it fun.”
‘There’s so much time to live’
Jaime’s ability to find joy in the fallout of world-shattering heartache wasn’t always a foregone conclusion. Even if masking pain with humor was a tried and true tradition — “instead of depressed, I’ll say I’m depronky” — the emerging indie songwriter’s behavioral health became a battlefield in the wake of loss.
“I just kept saying ‘Fuck it, I’mma spiral,’ and that meant I was getting loaded. That meant I was gonna go meet up with somebody after the bar. I was having panic attacks, popping Xanax and doing a bunch of crazy shit to feel leveled out,” they say. “I was like that lady [Parker Posey] in this current season of White Lotus. I was using things as a crutch.”
The spiral wasn’t entirely new territory for Jaime. They grew up fast in the once rough-and-tumble neighborhood of Highland Park in Los Angeles, where grim milestones happened early: like seeing their first dead body as a kid, or overdosing on bunk ecstasy at age 14. After years of therapy and addiction treatment, across the ups and downs of life changes, career takeoffs and broken relationships, Jaime began to get their arms around things.
“I told my therapist bon voyage, and I was like, ‘Whatever, fuck it. I’m gonna use the coping mechanisms I have that are healthy.’ I do yoga and go running and shit like that,” they say. “I let life drag me down a little bit and I needed a slap in the face to make me realize I’m human and I don’t need to perfect myself to fit into the mold of what an adult should be. There’s so much time to live.”
‘It feels like a relief’
Despite being the end product of so much emotional turmoil, the 30-minute runtime of Spiral Your Way Out is colored by this rosy view of the future. You hear as much in the sun-kissed melodies and fuzzed-out guitars that recall the life-affirming sensation of throwing open your front door to the endless promise of a brilliant blue sky. Even on crashout anthems like the bitter “Bruised” and album centerpiece “Wish You Would Notice (Know This),” the weight is made lighter by an innate breeziness floating one song to the next.
But Jaime didn’t arrive here alone. Working with a star-studded range of producers like Jorge Elbrecht (Japanese Breakfast, Sky Ferreira) and Sarah Tudzin of Illuminati Hotties (boygenius, Cloud Nothings), the most sonically rich offering of zzzahara’s growing catalog is also the artist’s most collaborative.
“Sometimes you need someone to tell you something sucks,” they say. “I didn't have that before, and I wish I did, because sometimes I listen to songs from when I was younger and I’m a little bit embarrassed. But I feel like that’s OK: You have to make a few mistakes to realize you can make something better.”
For Jaime, the same logic applies to the emotional landscape of post-breakup life as they shift focus to their own health and wellbeing. The spiral may have been long and complicated, full of corkscrew turns that come with being a human in the world, but Jaime has come out singing on the other side.
“I feel better now that it’s out there,” they say. “This record is about one person, and I think I was just kind of nervous about them, and all the people I used to be friends with, listening to it. But I’m glad I got it off my chest. It feels like a relief to move on now that I’ve said the things I wanted to say.”
ON THE BILL: zzzahara with special guests. 7 p.m. Tuesday, April 1, Skylark Lounge, 140 S. Broadway, Denver. $25