jonah

I have a difficult time pinning down the music of Portland’s Jonah Sissoyev. I started listening to his songs back in 2012. It was the first time that I truly lived alone, outside of a college dorm room—a quiet, light-filled apartment all to myself, on the top floor of an old house. I didn’t know what Sissoyev was singing about, whether it was God or girls, but I knew that it hit me—that it spoke to something far down, in that part of you that knows only a profound, Biblical groaning. Sissoyev is now releasing his third EP, Shadow of the Sun, and his sound has expanded somewhat over the years. There are more players. There is a greater scope to the recordings. But the songs are still rooted in those far down places. They still feel like an artist’s abstract search for love or peace or salvation of some kind. At the heart of it, Sissoyev’s songs remain strange, enigmatic and utterly beautiful.

You can stream and purchase his music here. Beginning March 1, you’ll be able to hear and buy the new EP, Shadow of the Sun.

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When I was younger, I believed in a mystical highway that stretched through the deserts and mountains and byways of America. It beckoned the wandering hearts of lost prodigals. Its asphalt would hum beneath your feet as you pressed down on a gas pedal. But as I got older, and I had been down a road or two, that highway began to lose its magic. I stopped believing in mystery and the power of the open road. I see visions of that lost highway again when I listen to Wesley Randolph Eader’s new record, Highway Winds. I see Woody Guthrie riding a boxcar.  I hear Townes Van Zandt singing stories in an old saloon. I see mountain ranges in the far distance, and desert stretched out all around. I find saints and sinners, and I see redemption somewhere on the distant rise. I hear and see and feel it all again. I am swept up in the mystery of the road. This is the wonder of Highway Winds.

You can listen to and purchase the album here.