This installment of our Musician Spotlight series features the beautiful, talented and genuinely sweet
Jenna Von Oy. Like many of you, I first saw Jenna during her work as Six on the hit television show
Blossom. Jenna has been an actor since the age of 6, appearing in numerous television shows and movies.
Harry and I first met Jenna in 2009 when she won our silent auction donation for
Nashville's Arts Immersion event. A few months later we were shooting Jenna and Brad's engagement photos, which was a fantastically fun session. During that session we learned of Jenna's songwriting career and when we extended to her the invitation to particiate in this series of Musician Spotlight interviews we were thrilled that she agreed to participate.
Jenna currently has two CD releases,
Breathing Room and
Coffee and Men: An EP for Childish Adults, both available via itunes.
Friends, meet the lovely Jenna Von Oy...
MA: You are quite well known for your work in the arts, especially television and film industries. After we first met we were pleasantly surprised to learn of your work in the music industry as well. Having spent a great deal of your life in LA, how did you arrive at the decision to move to Nashville?
I can’t honestly say that Nashville was initially on my radar. Having grown up so close to New York City, the bulk of my childhood exposure was to musical theater. I was convinced I would be singing and dancing my way to the Broadway stage... Which I was actually a hair’s breadth from accomplishing on several occasions! Nashville didn’t come into the picture until much later. A dear friend, who is in a Grammy award-winning pop music group, was the first person to really shed some light on the Nashville music scene for me. He was producing a country act out of Nashville at the time, and traveled back and forth frequently. This was back in 1997, when I was in a bit of what I’ll kindly refer to as a transitional phase in my life. (In other words, I needed guidance of all forms at the time - spiritual, emotional, you name it... The fact that I was just turning 20 should make that fairly self-explanatory.) My friend had flown his artists out to Los Angeles for record label meetings, and brought them over to my house for dinner one night. He must have told them about my musical aspirations, and they asked me to sing. I’m not generally one for off-the-cuff, at-home karaoke sessions, but I didn’t want to disappoint my guests. After I finished belting out a quick little something or other, they asked if I’d ever considered country music. Laughing (a.k.a. scoffing), I made a declaration that I’d never be caught dead in cowboy boots and a belt-buckle with my name on it, and swore off everything I was certain Nashville stood for. They managed to enlighten me a bit, saying it was more than honky-tonk songs about Whiskey and guns (though I can vouch that I’ve heard plenty of those while I’ve lived here too), and convinced me to listen to the local country station for reference. The following day, while braving L.A traffic, I frugally decided to give country music a one-song chance. Miraculously, instead of hearing some sort of Toby Keith or Billy Ray Cyrus gem, I managed to stumble onto Trisha Yearwood’s “The Song Remembers When”, by Hugh Prestwood. It was soulfully honest, and spoke of loss and heartache and everything else I felt at that time. To this day, it is still a favorite of mine. I promptly pulled my car over, started bawling, and swore I would get myself to Nashville come hell or high water. Two weeks later, I was turning my rental car down music row, heading to writing sessions with some incredible songwriters, and officially eating my words about country music! That was when I first became smitten with this town. I wasn’t able to make a full-time move until 2006, when I had the epiphany that I was desperate to get back to having some grass under my feet. There’s a lot to be said for trading in the palm trees for a dose of good ol’ fashioned Southern hospitality. That idea is really what prompted my first album in 2007, as well.
Songwriting can be one of those magic drugs. I’ve been writing songs since before I could write my own name, so it has always been an outlet for me. “Little Pollywoggy” was one I wrote when I was five, and my Dad copyrighted it a year or so later. My Mom was sure I’d learned it at school, and was surprised (and probably a bit suspicious) when she discovered I’d written in on my own. I don’t think my poor parents knew quite what to do with me! Thank God they had the wherewithal to tape-record it. That my Dad knew to copyright it was icing on the cake. What you hear at the start of
Breathing Room is the original version, taken directly from the tape. In listening back to the words, I find that it makes a pretty simple but intuitive statement about growth and metamorphosis. How a five year old manages to sum up the meaning of life and it’s disappointments in a ten second ditty, is beyond me, but I’ve always felt songs transcend from somewhere else entirely. I think the best songs I’ve written are ones where the lyrics and depth surprised even me.
As I mentioned earlier, I was very drawn to musical theater as a child. This was, in part, due to the fact that being on Broadway meant I wouldn’t have to choose between music and acting. Even back then, I was torn between them. They both offer me a form of catharsis, and fill a different dark place. That said, acting is my bread, and singing/songwriting is my butter. I wouldn’t dream of consuming the butter on its own. In the last few years, I’ve been encouraged by the number of films and television shows revolving around music (Glee, Moulin Rouge, Chicago, to name a few). They make me hopeful for the opportunity to combine the two. I would be happiest doing a series that would allow me the chance to sing and perform on a weekly basis. I’ll go ahead and put that out in the universe, in hopes it comes back to me!
First of all, I have to say: Thank you for taking the time to read the liner notes! I guess I thought only my Mom & Dad would bother to look at those, so I was pleasantly surprised to have you quote my little tribute to my sweet Grandma. That woman was a firecracker, and I credit a lot of my creativity and drive to her. I am fortunate to say that she was one of many incredible people in my life who have supported every move I’ve made. I’m blessed.
My inspiration for writing
Coffee and Men: An EP for Childish Adults was trifold. First, I began to realize that Nashville’s music scene was one hell of a lot broader than just country music, and that maybe I wasn’t looking to be a part of the mainstream. I started discovering indie artists, and getting inspired by the left of center stuff. I still get more excited by artists like The Civil Wars, than I do about new country acts. It also reminded me to return to older artists and re-listen as well, such as Tom Waits & Bob Dylan. Simultaneously, I began to take an interest in placing some of my music in TV and film. With my background, it seemed like the natural progression of things. The third reason was an emotional one. As therapeutic as my first album was, because it enabled me to do a lot of purging on paper, it was sort of one-sided in its content. I was coming off of a heavy break-up, rediscovering who I was alone, moving to a new town, and reassessing what life outside of the L.A bubble looked like for me. It was an overwhelming and eye-opening time, and that’s definitely reflected in
Breathing Room. But two years later, I was in a completely different headspace. I’d begun a relationship with my now husband, and I started craving a way to express my sarcasm and my goofy side. I needed a hiatus from the sappy, sad love songs. So
Coffee and Men was born. I jokingly say it’s the result of what would happen if a really warped version of Norah Jones merged with Betty Boop. It’s kitschy and wacky, and I love it. I had no idea I would wind up releasing another CD when I started. The first song written was the title track,
Coffee and Men, and it got such a positive response from everyone I played it for, the idea of a whole album started creeping in. One of my best friends looked at me and said “
Breathing Room was a beautiful expression of you, but
Coffee and Men is the true artist in you”. In a sense, I finally found my voice on that album. I’ve spent my whole acting career trying various roles on for size, and in a way, the EP is no different - I embody a character in that too. You can hear my love of performing in every song - it has a sort of cabaret, Vaudeville quality to it that I adore.
MA: We understand that Coffee and Men was written for film and TV placement. How does the desired end use of a song impact the way it’s written? Are there guidelines regarding beat, tone and key, etc. between genres or end uses?
If there are guidelines, I certainly don’t follow them! I’m a big believer in “write what you feel”. It may not always fit the next Julia Robert’s film, but it might fit the next episode of Parks and Recreation. You just never know. That said, sometimes I’ll write a song with a particular project in mind, so there are obviously other things to consider. Recently, one of my best friends (Jenn Schott, who is an unbelievable songwriter here in town) and I co-wrote a song for a film I did. The theme was very clear, and didn’t leave room for the zany, uptempo stuff on my EP. Instead, we penned a meaningful ballad, and the producers loved it. Sometimes you have to color inside of the lines too... life is a balance.
MA: Are you more lyrically or melodically driven in your songwriting process? What instrument do you gravitate toward when writing?
I imagine every songwriter would like to think they are equally driven by lyrics and melody... I’m no exception. I can tell you that I always have a lot to do with both sides of the equation, because I’m ultimately the one who has to feel comfortable performing the song. I will admit that I’m not terribly proficient at my guitar playing, however, so I’m probably a bit more influential where lyrics are concerned. Between my two albums, there are a few songs that I wrote every word to, even if I had a co-writer. This was because my co-writer was very melody driven, so we created a melody idea together, and then I wrote lyrics on my own time. Every co-writer has a different method of how they like to contribute, but generally there’s pretty equal input. Oddly, when I create a melody, I generally envision it on piano. This is strange, in that I can’t play the piano to save my life. But I most often hear a fully instrumented version of a song in my head as I am writing. It’s like dreaming in vivid color. The way it’s executed may change later, but I always conceive of a full-blown interpretation during creation.
MA: Do you follow a disciplined writing regimen, such as scheduled, dedicated writing sessions or is it more of a voice that makes itself known when it’s time to write?
Typically, it’s a voice. I have many writer friends who have co-writes five days a week, but they tend to get burned out quickly. For the most part, those folks have chosen songwriting as a career choice. For me, it’s a hobby that I like to indulge, which is why I’ve never put in serious hours trying to hunt down a publishing deal, and why I don’t write every single day. I find that I do need my creative daily bread, however. Sometimes that comes in the form of music, other times it’s in the form of writing a novel, or auditioning for a TV series, or painting, or doing photography. As long as the juices are flowing, I’m satiated. There are certainly moments where the inspiration undoubtedly takes the shape of a song, and I have to grab the nearest notebook and pen. Inevitably, this always happens while I’m driving, so I’ve taken to recording random thoughts and ideas on my cell phone. God bless technology for THAT one, though I’m not always whole-heartedly in the technological advancement camp. I still embrace my 35 millimeter camera, keep a written calendar, and prefer to write music on a notepad when I can.
Truth be told, I’ve never been a big fan of intensely “studying” for my acting roles. Don’t get me wrong - I study my lines. However, I generally like to rely on what “feels right”, in terms of my emotional approach. While I admire those who continually exercise their craft by taking group classes and learning various methods, I prefer to tap into characters on my own. I’m a firm believer in following your instincts. I also find that I have a tendency to overanalyze (to a fault), when I’m asked to break down every minute particle of a character’s development. The same is true for my songs. Creativity shouldn’t feel clinical... As you mentioned, art is a form of therapy. When I adhere to rigid rules and discipline, it seems to feel less like therapy, and more like homework. The songs I’m most proud of didn’t require hours of painstaking, forced labor. They were inspired and in the moment. Consequently, they are raw and honest, and I find I am more emotionally invested in them. I don’t often write about subject matters that I know nothing of. The easiest source to write from is always what’s close to my heart. An exception to that rule might be “The Fairytale”, which I wrote the words to in about fifteen minutes. In fact, it arguably wrote itself. Sometimes I have days where it’s fun to channel my inner Dorothy Parker, and write a song from the dark side.
I don’t know if I can pinpoint a single muse. I’ve been listening to a lot of French music lately, artists like Charles Trenet and Serge Gainsbourg, and they’ve definitely had an impact. Sometimes it’s as simple as finding a word I like, and challenging myself to use it in a song. For instance, a few years ago I got a wild hair to use the words “argyle socks” in a song. There’s no rhyme or reason as to why, it just popped into my head and rattled around in there for a while. Ultimately, it landed in the last few lines of Lucky Penny, where it fell into place without a second thought. I refuse to force something into being, so it has to be the right fit if I’m going to use it, challenge or not. I know some songwriters who say if you haven’t slaved over a song, and really worked hard for it, it isn’t a good one. While I respect that their methods work for them, I thoroughly disagree. The songs I’m most proud of all fell out and hit the paper in a torrent. I write from an emotional place, not a technically perfect one. A song may not follow the “correct” measure or phrasing, but if it makes you feel something, that’s the most crucial component... Which brings us back full circle, to that whole coloring outside of the lines thing again.
I never really plot to release an album; it seems to happen as the right songs are created. I’ve been talking for a while now about doing a new album (or EP) called
Diary of A Bad Girl, based on a song I wrote with one of my frequent co-writing buddies, Jon Roniger. We both feel like it’s the perfect follow up to
Coffee & Men. But I’m not quite ready to go into production yet; I have a hunch that a few more songs are on the sidelines, waiting to be revealed first. The expense of doing an album can be pretty hefty, so I don’t take the process lightly. I want to know that the album serves a purpose before I start recording. I never place expectations on the album to make money or a name for itself, I just like to know it’s satisfying some innate need for me. I always know when it’s the right time.
MA: Many people use art in one form or another as an outlet from the stresses of every day life. Your every day life is the creation of art. What mediums or activities serve you best as stress reducers?
Cooking. Painting. Daydreaming. Curling up with a good book. Snuggling with my husband & pups. Sipping a glass of good wine. Sipping a second glass of good wine. Buying fresh flowers. Lighting candles. Breathing in a cup of strong coffee. Playing scrabble. Writing anything. Taking photographs. Taking a walk. Catching up with an old friend. Going to an outdoor market. Getting a massage. Singing my heart out while I drive. Playing old records on a Sunday afternoon. Watching the rain fall. Sleeping in. Traveling. Rearranging my closet. Browsing an antique shop. Finding an excuse to speak French. Drinking lavender tea on a chilly day. Creating any project that involves a glue gun. Knitting. Growing vegetables in my garden. Laughing until I cry- usually with my siblings. Perusing the grocery store aisles. Saying a prayer. Loving and being loved... In no particular order.
MA: Your first years were spent in Connecticut, moving to LA during middle school and then to Nashville as an adult. What are the attributes of each location that speak to you most?
A piece of my heart definitely still resides in each. Growing up in a quaint colonial town on the East Coast is something I wouldn’t trade for anything. There’s a lot to be said about being raised in a place that’s rich in history; it instills a sense of pride. You can almost imagine Paul Revere riding down the Main Street on his horse. I spent my childhood climbing trees in our apple orchard, and catching frogs in the pond behind our house. I flew kites in the spring, rode my bike in the summer, swung into massive piles of leaves in the fall, and ice skated in the winter. There was a sense of balance, and humility, and hospitality. The school systems I grew up in were aggressive in all the right ways, and the teachers were supportive. In fact, I’m still close to several of my elementary school teachers, and even got married at a bed & breakfast owned by two of my former middle school teachers. Growing up in Connecticut was a dream. Moving to Los Angeles was certainly a culture shock, but it had its merits. I appreciate the cultural diversity it offers, and I think that the city breeds dreams. Thinking big is never questioned there.
MA: What gets you up in the morning, besides coffee? ;)
My dogs. All five of them. And more recently, my daughter kicking inside of my belly. She's a whole new world of inspiration to look forward to...
Will started with "Piece of Work" that he said was written from the bathroom of the neonatal unit of Baptist Hospital... you can take a listen if that piques your interest... and it should...
Marshall shared a bit about her childhood in South Carolina, saying she didn't know she was white until she was old enough to jump up and see herself in the mirror.
Mary led her set with "I Drink".
The experience of each and every one one-thousandth of a second is right in front of our eyes, we just have to see it; we have to look for it, to seek it out. We must allow ourselves to be aware of the details of our environment. We all do it without awareness. Our eyes take it all in, it just goes unregistered in our forward or backward occupied brain as our present brain takes over the mundane tasks of mobility and function.
