Interview Zola Jesus

The world of Zola Jesus—née Nika Roza Danilova—isn’t easily accessible. Her music stirs emotions similar to hearing Tangerine Dream or seeing an Alejandro Jodorowsky film for the first time. It’s at once unnerving and engaging, otherworldly yet beautiful. Her videos, haunting and hypnotic, recall David Lynch fever dreams or a moody student filmmaker having a particularly depressing semester. On first listen, it might seem that Danilova is crafting impenetrably gothic mood pieces for her own benefit, with nearly unintelligible vocals awash in industrial crashes and icy synths. The music is a product of Danilova’s passion for philosophy, experimental films, and a background in classical opera training—to try and digest in a single sitting is to miss the point. 

On the surface, Conatus, Danilova’s 2011 full-length, may sound like her most accessible record, with classical string arrangements and a crisp sheen replacing lo-fi abrasiveness, but the record speaks of unease and a young artist—only 22 years old—fighting to find herself. With Conatus as her mission statement, Danilova has come out clean on the other side of self-discovery, and as she told The A.V. Club before her show Feb. 21 at Lincoln Hall, she’s still scared shitless to perform live.

The A.V. Club: Conatus is difficult to wrap one’s head around upon first listen. Was it an emotionally draining album to make?

Nika Danilova: Yes, definitely. I felt like after Stridulum, I exhausted a lot of my musicality. After making that record, and touring behind it for so long, there were a lot of things that I wanted to do differently, and I think that’s natural for any musician after they write a record and tour behind it for two years, and they just get so sick of the sounds and instruments they used and everything. I really felt like Conatus was my chance to try something different.

Every song took me on such a different journey to arrive at the endpoint. For me, the Conatus journey was just so taxing and so drawn out. There was always a lot of analyzing and cutting, and hating it and loving it. It feels like a very raw and stressed record, for better or worse. I think for better, because it’s completely changed me. I feel like a much better musician because of it. But the process was definitely grueling.

AVC: The soundscapes on Conatus conjure disquieting images. Are you attracted to the beauty in destruction?

ND: In a sense, I just find it more honest. I think especially today, when so many people are turning towards media as some form of escape, when you shut that entertainment off and really look at the world and where we’re going, it’s not always very positive. I never want to feel like I’m helping someone avoid the truth. If you’re comfortable with the harder parts of the world, you can persevere easier.

AVC: Have you always been unafraid to explore the darker sides of life and art?

ND: I think so. I don’t know if I’d necessarily call it darker, but I think things are becoming too black and white these days. There are certain things that I don’t consider dark, but they might get labeled that way because people don’t understand it. That’s what I’m trying to tackle, to show that there are dark and light things. There’s different ways of living, and different ways of expression. I want to know them all.

That’s kind of my goal; to never close myself off to the way people live or think, because I think it can all teach you a lot about yourself.

AVC: Is Conatus your Black Swan reaction to your formal musical background? Was it a chance to shake off any kind of formal trapping and embrace a different side of yourself?

ND: I think I’ve been trying to do that for a while, but it was a vehicle for me to say, “This is it. This is what I’ve got.” I can make this declaration, and after this, anything goes. I can make this declaration and this is the call. 

AVC: Did you feel any sense of weighted pressure with Conatus, or did the declaration happen organically?

ND: I am no stranger towards putting an insane amount of pressure on myself. Everything I do has this pressure behind it. Through the process of making the record, I realized and came to terms with so many things about myself. It was so therapeutic, and if no one listened to the record, at least I would know what it did for me.

AVC: At such a relatively young age as a musician, your ambition is commendable. Do you worry that 20 years down the line you’ll go insane trying to top yourself?

ND: [Laughs.] I think it would be a lot easier if I could just say, “Okay, this is what I do and this is my sound,” and be done with it. That just seems like a means to becoming stale and stagnant, and you’re not contributing anything to yourself or the world. You constantly need to analyze things and you need to hate them, because in any failure there are small victories. As long as you always have that desire to be better and that there’s something else in you, that exploration is the only way to continue for 20 years.

AVC: How does creativity strike? Is it piecemeal, or are you constantly bombarded with words and images?

ND: There’s always a lot, and sometimes it slowly accumulates. I need to be in a situation where I’m comfortable. I’m very sensitive, and I can’t even sing in front of people very easily.

AVC: Do you have an Eminem-style psych-up ritual before the show?

ND: [Laughs.] I’ve always had incredible stage anxiety. The moment I walk out on stage, and I realize where I am, the only thing I can do is to give myself completely. I can stand there and be an asshole, give the audience nothing, and put that wall of fear up, or I can think “Okay, I’m terrified, but let’s be real. This is who I am and these songs are really personal, but it’s great because the audience is looking up at me and we can have a real moment.” I try and do that instead of hiding behind something because I’m so scared, which I’ve definitely done in the past. You just have to give in and do your thing.

AVC: How does a song take shape? Is it the beat or melody, or is it always the written word?

ND: It’s usually never the written word. It’s typically a beat or melody. With Conatus, it was a 9-to-5 situation. I’d get up and go to the studio in my living room and start working. I’d start producing beats and lines and go from there. I trashed about 95 percent of it, but there’s always that 5 percent that works. It’s kind of like this experiment, like playing with wires.

AVC: Your music is inherently cinematic, so it must have been a no-brainer giving David Lynch the greenlight to remix “In Your Nature.”

ND: [Laughs.] Yeah. Totally. My label approached him, because they’re working together on a couple things. They worked it out, and I don’t even really know the details. I just got a call that said, “Hey, David Lynch is gonna remix your song.” And then I got another call saying, “Hey, David Lynch has remixed your song.” And then I heard it, and it was really cool. But yeah, it’s absolutely surreal. It’s so beautiful. Lynch and Dean Hurley, who remixed the song, did such a phenomenal job. It was weird, because I’ve never allowed a remix before, so it was a little disorienting.

AVC: Were you a fan of Crazy Clown Time?

ND: It was good! It’s definitely a head piece, but it’s really good. I listen to it all the time.

AVC: Is your music ever inspired by film? I could see you composing to El Topo or Kenneth Anger.

ND: [Laughs.] More than music, I feel like I’m inspired by film and stories and images. It gives you more freedom to create something that’s not there. Every day during the making of Conatus, I’d put a movie on repeat and look over and get inspired.

AVC: What were some of the movies?

ND: There was On The Silver Globe, Andrzej Zulawski’s sci-fi film. I had gotten Solaris Blu-Ray. I watched Dangerous Encounters Of The First Kind, which is this Thai horror movie. A lot of documentaries on Iceland and Inuit culture as well.

AVC: I grew up in the Midwest. It was definitely hard being a kid who was more into movies and music than Cornhusker football. Tell me about your experience.

ND: I was about three hours from Madison, [Wisconsin,] way up north. For me, it was one of those things that when you leave, you realize what a different person you are because of it. For the better, I think. But when you’re in the thick of it, it’s just mind-numbing. I got my kicks though. I had to learn to entertain myself a little bit.

AVC: Do you have a big family? I think I read that your brother turned you on to Throbbing Gristle?

ND: I actually have a pretty small family, but we’re very close.

AVC: Were you pushed into opera training, or was it something you actively sought out?

ND: It was of my own interest and curiosity. My parents are not musically inclined at all. I would send away for opera training cassette tapes. When they would come in the mail, my parents would be like, “What? We didn’t know you were interested in opera!”

AVC: Did you have a garage band growing up? Did you even have friends?

ND: Oh no, I didn’t have any friends growing up. I just kinda kept to myself. I tried to be in a band maybe once, and it just didn’t happen?

AVC: I imagine that growing up in northern Wisconsin, you were groomed to go to the prom and marry the nice boy next door.

ND: Oh yeah, that’s the mentality, but my parents are very non-traditional, so they didn’t really have that plan for me. Neither did I, for that matter. But with my peers growing up, there was just really no one who I wanted to waste my time getting to know before the age of 18. I knew that I would be going off to college and never have to see them again. I figured I’d learn to make music on my own and rely on myself, and it’s worked out for me so far.