Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter return with songs about mortality, transformation, and cosmic caretakers

Transmission 302: Interview with Jesse Sykes

Jesse Sykes is an American singer-songwriter and visual artist whose work addresses mortality, loss, emotional transformation, and the search for grace within darkness. Since forming Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter with guitarist Phil Wandscher in Seattle in 2002, she has created what The New York Times called “spellbound music, rapt in fatalism and sorrow,” delivered through a voice MAGNET describes as dusky and transcendent.

Title: Forever, I've Been Being Born
Artist: Jesse Sykes
Release Date: 2025-11-28
Genres: Folk, Folk Rock, Indie Rock
Label: Ideologic Organ
Description: Jesse Sykes returns after 14 years with Forever, I've Been Being Born, out November 28 via Southern Lord. Interview on grief, magical thinking, and rebirth.

Her fifth album, Forever, I’ve Been Being Born, released on November 28 via Idelogic Organ, arrives fourteen years after 2011’s Marble Son, the result of a ten-year recording process marked by band departures, extended silence, and what Sykes calls a necessary period of grieving. The songs function as eulogies—meditations on death approached with calm acceptance, inspired by figures from her childhood and the street kids of 1980s Seattle documented in Mary Ellen Mark’s film Street Wise. The album features Wandscher throughout, with Marissa Nadler appearing on lead single “Gentle Chaperone.”

Sykes’ musical partnerships have included Sunn O))) and Boris (she co-wrote and sang on “The Sinking Belle” from their Altar collaboration”I stopped even listening to music at the time), and she has toured with artists including Gillian Welch, Lucinda Williams, and Steve Earle. Wandscher co-founded Whiskeytown with Ryan Adams and appears on the band’s first three records. As a photographer, Sykes’ work has appeared in Vice. The band returns to the stage in 2026.

Featured image: © Anita Nowacka

What attracted you to music? 

My first memories were of being deeply moved by music. I actually remember that ache before I had real memories, if that makes sense. My mother sang lullabies to me… I’ll never forget that intimacy of melody, breath and heartbeat through her chest… the love. Like many, I associate music with love. The “ache” (later understood as melancholy – the good kind ;) ) started within me so young. And I just knew that was what I wanted to be a part of forever. I didn’t want a day to go by without experiencing that beautiful feeling. 

It’s a hum you’re born into that you surrender yourself to. So, like most musicians, I didn’t really have a choice. I followed my calling. 

I was fortunate that I grew up in a home where music was always playing in some form or another…. Piano (my mother) and great records (my father.) 

What was the primary catalyst that brought you back to recording after the hiatus? 


The catalyst honestly, was kind of a two headed hydra, the first aspect being the actual “stepping, or falling away” for those few years after my band fell apart (right after releasing our last record Marble Son in 2011) At the time it felt brutal and violent… like I was ripped away from the source of my being. I’d lost my family, I felt. So in the wake of it all I had to re-imagine myself as a person that wasn’t part of any musical “apparatus”, wasn’t living in record making, or touring time. I had to grieve the loss of the friendships and community as well, because I was living very far away from Seattle. I felt cut off from everything. 

I kind of just stopped functioning for a while, because I didn’t know how to “be” without the context of perusing my career or focusing on writing (which I had no desire to do at the time). At the time it all felt devastating— and the depression that ensued, felt impossible to climb out from. 

There were of course other issues at play, adding to my life’s difficulties, but due to the new circumstances of being band-less, I was forced to learn to live in solitude (which I hadn’t been expecting, as I figured I’d mostly be on tour—since we had just released a record at the time.) I didn’t understand what a great gift this was all going to be (but it was a gift that would take years to understand as such). 

I stopped even listening to music at the time. Music was painful; my guitar was pain— as I associated it with the loss. 


It sounds extreme, or over dramatic, but again, it all had to happen for new parts of me to develop, which now I’m so grateful for, as they brought me to this album and this new chapter. I had been kind of a one trick pony. I was music or bust. I didn’t understand I had created a prison for myself of constant anxiety and not really being happy unless I was on stage—or had something on the burner. It’s too vast to explain, but I think many people understand how the thing they love most can kill them if the balance is off. 

So, after the band fell apart, I found myself living in what felt like the middle of nowhere, and I learned to make peace with feeling completely lost. Eventually I learned to love the feeling of being lost and it turned back into creativity. I learned to enjoy solitude — and now I covet it. 


But to answer your question, the second layer of what became a catalyst towards getting back to writing and recording was that in that window, at some point, I started creating these video diaries with a flip camera I found in a thrift shop. I admit some of these little movies or vignettes (never sure what to call them!) are a bit embarrassing now, but I keep them up on Youtube as a reminder of that time —and as a celebration of the process that helped me move forward. 

I went deep into telling stories about my childhood and my life in general (depressive episodes, my 15 1/2 year old dog and her life and death as she was so enmeshed in everything I had done until then.) 

Many of the vignettes remain incomplete— and many are unpublished—but they served their purpose by creating them. I composed music for them and obsessively created overlay upon overlay, and it was both a morning ritual and a mourning ritual. I’d sit with coffee and narrate my story over raw footage all day long (which was a hodge podge of imagery from my daily walks, to old family and band pictures, dog pictures etc.) 

It was so therapeutic, and I became inspired again and re-connected to why I had ever wanted to make music in the first place— to feel connection. Love. 

I think losing the band had brought up many pathological issues of unresolved pain from childhood, of course — which these videos delved into. Huge catalyst.

I stopped even listening to music at the time. Music was painful; my guitar was pain— as I associated it with the loss.

What were the biggest challenges in revisiting songs that were written years ago? 

It’s kind of like walking into the ocean in the wintertime. But once I delve into the music, I find it very therapeutic. It’s like reincarnation while you’re still alive. I know most musicians get this, but songs are time portals, so at any given moment they can be painful to revisit, or very nurturing. 

In terms of playing them live, for me, they always feel new. There’s a bit of amnesia. I feel this way about all of our music. I know some songwriters or bands get tired of certain songs and vow to never play them again—but I never feel this way. 

What’s cool about revisiting them since they are a decade old, (or more!) is I get to sort of reinvent my past. It’s like the person I am now can console the person I was in that period, and vice versa.

What role does the character of the “Chaperone” play in the narrative of the album? 

I see “the chaperone” as that all knowing, loving being, that looms around behind our shoulders at any given time, bearing witness to us. I think all of my songs are written for that being. 

Both “Gentle Chaperone” and “Oh, My Sitter” are odes to these divine, “cosmic care takers” as I like to refer to them. I say “divine” because there’s a level of purity and shared trust. I remember feeling this in a very literal sense as a child towards a kind neighbor, who took care of me a lot of the time, and essentially formed me, divined my soul, I believe. She was pure love. Had it not been for her, I would not have had the components and resolve to get through life. So, in many ways, the record is through the lens of loving her and being loved by her…she is the music now. 

The whole record is about love, death, grief, rebirth and surrendering to sorrow. All the usual themes! And some how these themes became cloaked in childhood imagery. Even the song ‘Dewayne” is about a kid that once lived in Seattle and took his life (I’ll talk more about him in a bit). But as the songs came to me, I was aware of the emerging theme of a divine caretaker. 

I know a lot of this stuff is so 101 when spoken out loud—like I just discovered archetypes and Joseph Campbell or Carl Jung—but I just felt so in love with the feeling of acknowledging being gently led by a higher self, or in this case, these kind gentle beings— I didn’t care at the time if it seemed simplistic or too wrapped up in concepts of tenderness, fragility and sorrow. 

I was definitely writing from a place of quiet surrender to my own struggles with depression, mortality, and loss, but it was also attached to the existence of a higher love we are born into and trying to get back to. It is as if the universe is designed to lead you to exactly where you need to be at any given moment— and if pain is your teacher, so be it. Pain is something we all must move through in our search for bliss. The chaperone character is kind of there to help you walk through it all. And maybe you never do find bliss in this lifetime. 

Again, these concepts are nothing new, but what for me was “new” was the euphoric feeling that came to me (again, probably through making my silly video diaries), that feeling of joy and wonder which had been lost on me for so long. Somehow it felt like I’d been given this key to return to that state of grace I remember feeling as a child— and it just spilled into the music.

 I just finally found the ability to except that everything is as it needs to be— and I did find bliss for a good chunk of those days while i was writing, 

I’m still working these thoughts out. Songs are funny because they come out of nowhere—they mean different things at different times—but again, I really was able to get back to a place in my psyche and kind of relive that pure love of early childhood. It’s impossible to really convey all of this so, I apologize if I sound discombobulated in my thoughts! 

Play the songs as if the edge of a butterfly wing was brushing against your cheek in the dark while you’re holding a small child.

How does the concept of “magical thinking” manifest in your lyrics? 

This is a great question, and I’ll try to be succinct. 

Because these songs came out of me, they all feel like they are steeped in magical thinking, as I was in that state when many were written. Magical thinking, not perhaps the way a shrink would describe it (because magical thinking can be seen as a debilitating psychiatric problem) Mine was a more innocent poetic form. 

I essentially went through a time where I assigned a lot of meaning to things that I may have overlooked in previous phases of my life. And at times the meaning I assigned to these things or situations, bordered on obsession. As an artist, this is not the worst problem to have, especially if you can use it to your advantage—but there were times it caused great anxiety (and times it helped me cope). 

I made a quirky little documentary about it called “The Salvation Dogs” if anyone is wanting to indulge. These movies or vignettes I created (all on my Youtube channel), can’t really be separated from the album, as many of the album’s themes and emotional timbre came out of these stories. 

Back to your question… I’d say the first song on the album, “Feather Treasure,” is a good example lyrically and thematically of magical thinking. I mean the whole premise is an ode to it. 

I had been finding feathers everywhere on my daily walks, and it became almost overwhelming how many I was finding each day— it became impossible not to believe some higher power was sending a sign. It was almost comical at times, as I was finding so many (and it went on for a couple of years!) 

Because I was in a state of duress, as I’ve been alluding to, I welcomed these “signs”, as gifts. I collected them (of course;) and referred to them as my “feather treasures”. I have hundreds! Shrines upon shrines, of beautiful and somewhat rare feathers. 

In the song I’m singing someone who’s died, back to life in a sense. It was written for a friend who’d recently passed —but honestly, I think I was singing myself back from my own metaphoric death. And I think all those feathers I was finding each day felt like they were coming to me, not just as sweet gifts from the heavens, but more so because a part of me was dying each day— and when i was a kid someone had told me, that if you find a feather it means “someone has died” and of course that concept stuck with me. 

So yes, this is how it seemed to me upon reflection; that it was my own death that these fallen feathers represented, not someone else’s. 

The lyric ”Let the bullets hover, and let the pleasures blind” suggest danger is all around, but perhaps you can somehow shield yourself from it, just by simply believing there are forces that exist to protect you from the madness—even if in the end, the bullet ultimately finds you. 

Just follow the feathers;)

In the song, I’m subconsciously probably trying to suspend time — and I suppose reflect on pleasure and peril — which can often ride tandem together. The feathers were like bread crumbs to lead me back out from the darkness… they gave me a reason to go out and walk each day… it truly felt like a divine treasure hunt I was being summoned for each morning, even though for a long while the darkness remained. 

I see magical thinking as a superpower. A necessary state of being, to survive trauma. Without getting too personal—again, I definitely was not in a healthy headspace, or heart space at times during the writing and recording of this album. 

It’s never happened since. Those feathers. I mean I walk that same path of prairie each day, but I’m not finding them much anymore.…It’s okay, because I no longer need them. 

Why do you feel these lyrics resonate more with the current political and social climate than when they were first written? 

This is the one question that has had me a bit flummoxed. Not the question, but how to respond is challenging me… which is good;) 

I think it’s hard to respond because every day the changes in our country are so epic. It’s as if you must reinvent language to articulate whats happening—It’s hard to emotionally process. For me that new language is silence. I’ve been without words for a long time now regarding the state of things in this country. Yesterday a young mother was shot 3 times in the face by ICE agents. The man who shot her called her a “bitch” right after he killed her. And it is all on camera…their family dog was in the car with her. 

The world seemed crazy when I started writing these songs ten or so years ago, and now it is actually CRAZY. The whole country is having a massive existential crisis living under a cruel dictator bent on creating conflict and division and at the same time we’re losing ourselves even more to screens and algorithms to where we no longer see the humanity in each other. People need real connections now more than ever, but they need to be connecting with themselves also, so their hearts can remain open, despite all these horrible events. ( which are still quite incomparable on the horror scale, to other times in history, or to what happens, or is happening in other parts of the world) but alas, it is happening. 

With humanity, there’s never been a time when we weren’t causing destruction and pain somewhere to other humans, to all living things, or the land. But, because we have the internet and now AI, the dark heart of humanity is hyper-compressed into ones and zeroes in our psyche 24/7. 

Again, when these songs were written certain things hadn’t reached their full fever pitch yet, but if you were reading the digital tea leaves then, it was clear we were heading off the rails. This is probably why my subconscious honed in on these care-taking entities that I sing about. 

The lyric “I have heard the rumble, eternities they will crumble” kind of sums it up for me in terms of your question. The record is about surrender—surrendering to sorrow, grief, and to find beauty despite the sorrow— a sense of hope for the future, by surrendering to it all. Without hope, even poetic notions crumble and eternity is no longer interesting to ponder;) 

The record is a subtle “beware” i think, to keep hoping (whatever that means for you) and reconnect with yourself, your higher self, your shadow, your own imagination. 

As the lyric suggests from “Gentle Chaperone.”— “Into something new, I will forge this longing, while I wait for you.” 

It must be the higher self I’m waiting for in this lyric;) 

Oh, I hope this makes sense!

I guess too, I feel the songs express a fragility that could be thought of as a form of defiance given how civilization is moving right now— the culture has become so hard, so base, so nonsensical. I feel the collective trauma in my body and soul. Whether it’s land disputes, people terrorizing each other, war, factory farms, genocides, more war— the bottom line is, many people are hopefully going to be digging deep into their hearts and psyches and finding new ways to cope — to psychologically and spiritually survive these times. 

I hope I don’t sound too redundant here, but I know many people personally that are suffering big time and are losing hope …and I understand, as I feel pretty numb right now too, because it’s too much to bare, watching our world descend into fascism… Maybe its presumptuous or arrogant to think my lyrics are important this way, but honestly anything introspective, tender, childlike, and fragile, such as lyrics about chaperones and baby sitters that you long to be reborn back into the arms of, seems like a pleasant counter weight to the world’s worst fuckery. 

So that’s why I felt it was a blessing the record came into the world now, vs. 8 years ago (or so). It wouldn’t have provided that counterweight perhaps, for those that need it. 

I never wrote lyrics about whiskey or relationships gone awry, I’ve always tried to speak on more timeless metaphysical concepts (and even though my lyrics are well cloaked) I do speak of suicide and depression, but also hope and faith and rebirth. In the end, all we can do is press on, whether it’s in this life or the next- which again, is definitely a theme of this record. 

I know very few people will hear this album in the great realm of it all, but I sure hope they find it if they need it. 

I feel like I’m tooting my own horn here, but because I had been obsessively shooting footage with old video cameras and flip cameras, the record really became a companion piece to that footage— and to the little vignettes I was creating—which were very low resolution, pastoral and dream like.

What non-musical art forms, such as literature or visual art, influenced the mood of this project?

The song “Dewayne” that I mentioned above in a previous question, was the first song I wrote for the album. It’s about a kid who existed in real life, who was a subject in the film Street Wise, which was made in the 1980’s by Mary Ellen Mark, the photographer, and her husband Martin Bell. It’s a true masterpiece of a documentary about street kids living in downtown Seattle. I was always haunted by this film, and of course Mary Ellen Mark was a huge influence on me as a kid who was running around with a camera in the 80’s…

The film actually had a lot to do with why I moved to Seattle in 1990. I had done an internship with Mary Ellen Mark in NYC, which was how i learned of the film back in the day…. 

Seattle back then just felt like a gritty rough and tumble place, as depicted in the movie…it had a somber vibe…People would say to me, “Why are you moving to Seattle?! “Don’t you know, it has the highest suicide rate in the country!”….. 

…..and I would reply, ”good.” 

I can’t explain it, but the heaviness of the North West and Seattle appealed to me—and even in my early 20’s, the feeling of wanting to disappear was very intense for me. Seattle felt like the end of the earth, like going back in time 50 years at least, especially coming from New York City. So, I couldn’t get there fast enough. 

Anyway…..Dewayne Pomeroy is one of the featured kids in the film— a sweet vulnerable teenage boy…. who during the filming sadly takes his own life. 

It’s heartbreaking. There is a scene in the movie where his social worker talks about how they scattered his ashes in Elliot Bay, which is part of The Puget Sound……So, all those years that I worked in downtown Seattle, right on the Puget Sound, right there where Dewayne and the kids from Street Wise hung out— a place called Pike Place Market (on Pike Street), I’d always think of him…He really became a part of me —and i guess his spirit lives inside me now. 

I was so blown away when that song spilled out of me one morning, in one fell swoop, literally— out of nowhere, all those years later….Dewayne so deserved to be immortalized in song. The song is a eulogy for him. 

So, Street Wise definitely inspired this record…and I supposed Dewayne’s legacy of sweetness and vulnerably really permeated the themes that run through “Gentle Chaperone” and the song “Oh, My Sitter”. In the film, they really capture how he just so badly wants to be taken care of by somebody….wants to be loved. Many references in the song are directly taken from the movie. For example when i refer to “Chicken Hawks” in the lyrics….those are what the kids called old men that wanted to pay for sex ….there’s a lot of brutality in this film…

It’s important to note, regarding your question— because I was in such a depressive, yet contemplative state going into writing this album— I was a bit detached from culture at large. So books and film were kind of on hold, in a literal sense. Anything from culture at large that I drew inspiration from, was already within me—if that makes sense? I just didn’t have the energy at the time to really commit to finishing books, or even watching movies. 

I bought tons of books, but I wouldn’t read them. They just got put into what I now call my “sacred pile.” I just think I needed new ways to find expression, or new examples of expression —and most of this could only be found in nature and through quiet solitude. Because again, I needed to let go of all cultural associations, and let my own sorrows burn a hole though me. 

I feel like I’m tooting my own horn here, but because I had been obsessively shooting footage with old video cameras and flip cameras, the record really became a companion piece to that footage— and to the little vignettes I was creating—which were very low resolution, pastoral and dream like. The record was initially recorded on 1/2 inch tape (before we moved up to 2 inch) and I wanted it to to sound the way the videos “looked”. Muted and grainy…..not sure if this is the outcome at all, but in my mind, I was chasing this. 

Also at the time, The Salvation Army (thrift store) became my “museum”. Looking at figurines from the 1960’s and 70’s felt like high art to me. I think visiting and rummaging through dead people’s beloved items brought me back to life, much the way a book of poetry or a film might have in the past. It was a time of making peace with death —and about awakening my childhood wonder. There’s just something about the sorrow in those places that I found oddly calming and familiar. Those visits brought me closer to many people in my life, now dead and gone. Helped me reclaim my own ghosts. At the time, I referred to myself as an emotional archeologist;) 

I’m not in that place anymore. In fact, I rarely go to thrift stores now, unless I truly need something. But, for that period of time, this was church. i spent hours there, for days on end. 

I feel the songs express a fragility that could be thought of as a form of defiance given how civilization is moving right now— the culture has become so hard, so base, so nonsensical.

How does your work as a visual artist and photographer influence the way you structure a song? 

In terms of song structure, I think film actually influenced me more than photography, because film is all about movement. I think many of our songs have a cinematic rolling quality—they don’t follow typical pop structures, often don’t have choruses, or if they do, they appear more as a bridge…Also there is always a lot of space made for Phil’s guitar to do its thing—tell its story and establish itself as a character —as a call and response to my singing. I’ve never been rigid about a succinct song structure, and think it is okay if the songs fall off the page a bit. I don’t know…I definitely see the music visually— and like film, it’s about allowing a lot of space for the mood to develop and evolve. 

Photography influenced me more so in terms of the importance of creating “a world” in the recording process—to really capture the soul or the essence of a song as an existing document in time. Photography is all about chasing light and how light is behaving on a subject. Sometimes you get a great shot in theory, but if the light was wrong, it won’t make the cut. In my opinion, photographs need to have a rapturous quality—I want to see that ethereal grain reflecting off the silver particles of the paper —softening the blows of reality. In a recording I look for the same thing—only it’s through sonics rather than visual. 

I use many terms from photography in the studio. I always say music must have “depth of field” like a photo—layers upon layers of music, creating space you can step inside of. Also, something else must happen in the ether when you’re recording. Just as light reacts on film—some magnetic particles reacting with air and sound can create a magic that’s indescribable — but it’s also uncontrollable— it’s just something you hope to capture —and just like photography, sometimes it doesn’t transcend. We had three songs that didn’t make the cut on this record, because we just didn’t capture their essence the way we wanted. They felt too realistic, for lack of a better term. 

I have always been a purest preferring analogue over digital when it comes to film, photography and music. I really do feel and hear the difference much of the time. Call me crazy, but just like how I can “see” the difference in film vs digital, I hear the difference in digital recordings vs analogue—there’s a kind of LED light quality to the actual “sound” —if that makes sense? I know there are many exceptions….but ;)

I love talking about this stuff!

People use a lot of the same digital “plug ins” now too, and I think it has made many records sound too similar, much the way filters on phones make pictures look the same. Anyway, to summarize—I’m always fighting for the sound of a recording, to capture it’s identity, or soul— the “world” created within it…. and I owe it to my experience and love for photography.

 Sorry if i got a bit off track here;)


What role does the physical landscape or environment play in your creative process? 

I’ve always said tree lines are my main source of creative inspiration. Give me a good tree line in the distance to stare off into —and in many ways that’s all I need in order to conjure. But also, I need to be in nature every day to feel alive. I don’t need the wilderness per se (everyday) but just someplace to hear birds and insects — which is usually enough. Bottom line is, I really love silence, so that I can hear the natural world around me. I think this is something that comes often with older age;) It’s definitely why i can’t live in the city anymore. 

When I was young, I always wanted music playing. Silence kind of made me uneasy. But now it’s my muse. 


How do you plan to translate the intimacy of these recordings to a live stage setting? 

Well, that part comes somewhat easy for us, luckily, I think ;) I actually feel like live, we’ve managed to really hone in on that intimacy aspect…The voice and the guitar being in solidarity….it’s almost like theatre to me now. When we toured with Sunn O))) we focused on this notion, because we had to make the set make sense juxtaposed to their music– which is insanely loud (and it’s such an epic emotional experience to behold) So I thought of our set through a sort of Shakespearean lens, and tried to make each night feel like one big seamless performance… We were the sirens on the rocks and they were the storm ;) It’s hard to explain, but I’m just glad we had the experience– to force us to experiment more with different ways we can set an emotional tone as a duo…


The record isn’t as gentle as the live show, because the record has a full band at times…. but, when we started recording I told everyone this; 

“Play the songs as if the edge of a butterfly wing was brushing against your cheek in the dark while you’re holding a small child.” Which really is the overarching theme of the album… holding and singing to that child. 

Are you already working on new material? 

I’m definitely feeling the tickle. 

Thank you for asking me these great questions…I enjoyed this…And thank you so much for letting me delve into my journey here with you. xo Jesse

Photos courtesy of Jesse Sykes

Matteo Damiani

Matteo Damiani is an Italian photographer and author. Curator of the sites Retrofuturista.com; weirditaly.com; china-underground.com and others