jess nolan

When Jess Nolan began writing her third album at home in Nashville, she'd been on the move for years, traveling the world as a harmony-singing keyboardist for acts like Jenny Lewis, Katie Pruitt, and Joy Oladokun. Somewhere between the early-morning van calls and late-night gigs, she'd found time to expand her critically-acclaimed solo career, too, earning support from heroes like Ani DiFranco (who released Nolan's sophomore album, '93, on her label Righteous Babe Records) and an ever-growing fan base. The momentum was inspiring, but the pace could be dizzying, too. 

Being at home felt like a grounding experience. For the first time ever, Nolan found herself living alone and prioritizing her own downtime, creating space to write new songs that bridged the gap between intimacy and expansiveness. With '93, she'd explored the softer, meditative side of her music, but this new material was something different. It felt darker, autumnal, nocturnal. It felt playful, too, with Nolan often stepping away from the piano to write songs on guitar instead. When it came time to record these new compositions, she wanted to capture them in the same space in which they'd been created. So, with help from bandmates and friends — nearly all of them female — she transformed her home into a makeshift studio and got to work, recording Right At Home during five inspired days. 

Right At Home offers an unfiltered view into Nolan's past and present, turning personal details into something communal and cathartic. Bookending the record are abbreviated voicemails from her two grandfathers, their New Jersey accents on full display. Those spoken-word snippets are a reminder of Nolan's roots up north, where she sharpened her songwriting as a Jersey-raised teenager before heading south — first to Florida, where she studied songwriting at University of Miami, and then to Tennessee, where she established herself as one of Nashville's newest exports. They also help set the scene for Right At Home: an album that deals not only with where (and who) we come from, but the journey toward self-acceptance, too. 

On "Power," Nolan grapples with the passing of her grandmother by weaving family stories through layers of deep-pocketed groove (courtesy of drummer Meg Coleman) and atmospheric electric guitar (played by co-producer Megan McCormick). On "Roses" — a song about relinquishing resentment and practicing forgiveness — she slips into Italian during each chorus, singing "bellissimo amore" like a Highland Park expat who hasn't forgotten where she came from. "Owl" finds her folding imagery of Long Island synagogues and New York bridges into a mix of twinkling piano, strummed acoustic guitar, and echoing reverb. "Shake My World Around" even borrows its lyrics from a journal entry Nolan wrote at 14 years old, creating a full-circle moment that connects the present-day songwriter with her former self. 

Throughout the recording process, Nolan and McCormick let childlike curiosity lead the way. They built a tent around Coleman's drum set for "Shake My World Around," looking to capture a unique sense of sonic space. They ran Nolan's vocals through a guitar pedal board on "Full Bloom." They prioritized live performances, avoiding overdubs altogether and often using Nolan's original vocal take in the final mix. The goal, Nolan says, was to be vulnerable and authentic, combining the comforts of home recording with the open-minded experimentation of a studio project. 

For an album that often deals explicitly with death, Right At Home brims with life. Listen closely and you can almost hear Nolan's house itself: the drums bouncing off the living room walls, the vocals ringing through the kitchen, the electric guitars lined up beneath the front window. Why go anywhere else to record? Why come home after a whirlwind tour, only to immediately leave again? The path toward genuine happiness starts at home, after all, and before we can serve others, we must first find balance within ourselves. Right at Home doesn't just strike that balance; it creates a soundtrack for the process, too.