Born and raised by renowned bluegrass songwriter Irene Kelley, it is perhaps of little surprise Sara Jean Kelley has a penchant for writing songs too. Based in Nashville, she works within the folk/bluegrass tradition but is not restrained by it, leading to a sound rooted in history yet distinctively new too. Something which very much comes from Kelley’s varied character, which she describes as “an explorer, a rescuer, naturalist, and an active member of her creative community.” Indeed, her first EP The Wild emerged from her time studying evolution biology, centering on the natural world to live up to its title and explore one’s interconnection with the surrounding environment.
Released earlier this month, follow-up EP Black Snake continues within these themes, though takes new angles to include the cycles of death and renewal too. In doing so, the release serves as a meditation on strength, resilience and change, or what Kelley describes as “all the things you experience in your early thirties that you wish you had known a decade earlier.” The titular black snake offers a mythic vision of such things. “In our lowest place we ignore the most essential truths,” Kelley goes on to explain:
We live in survival mode and grasp for the things that seem tangible and attainable. That’s when the Snake visits us. That’s when we need her the most. She emerges from the shadows, gentle and unassuming. We ignore her. She taps on our windows and slithers through our halls. We ignore her. She grows impatient and persistent. We ignore her. Eventually she is wrapping herself around our throats and tightens her hold, tighter and tighter. We have no choice. We must listen to her, or we die. This is the mission of the Black Snake. She is fate. She is inevitability. She is growth. She is creativity. She is pure potential. She is life.
Opening the release, the title track introduces this idea in all of its evocative imagery. With little beyond simple acoustic guitar in its opening half, the song emerges from an intimate hush. A secret told in a quiet moment. “Black Snake, Black Snake, coming into the holes in the walls,” Kelley sings. “Black Snake looks so beautiful in the white halls.” But as things progress, the sound deepens as the instrumentation swells, Kelley’s vocals finding a sinuous rhythm above it all.
Black Snake is out now and you can find more information on the Sara Jean Kelley website.