Nicolas Jaar’s ‘Sirens’: Alarms and Affects

The title of Chilean-American musician Nicolas Jaar’s second full-length album, “Sirens,” could be interpreted in several ways. One of them is as a thematic continuation of a series of EPs released last year, called “Nymphs [II, III, and IV].” However, it seems likely that the titular sirens are not meant to allure—rather, they are a political alarm. “Sirens,” Jaar’s most socially engaged album to date, is a surprisingly mature exploration of the connections between the current political realities of both Chile and the U.S., and his relationship with his father. It utilizes his distinctive style for an ambitious new purpose—making electronica that functions as protest music.

The experimental nature of Jaar’s music—a fusion of futuristic jazz and electronica—allows him to create architecturally interesting songs. On “Sirens,” he confidently distances himself from any resemblance to the structure of pop songs that was still present on his early works (such as “Mi Mujer”). The very duration of the majority of songs, which largely exceed six minutes, attests to that. This length is essential in successfully achieving his aim of making political electronica. It allows him the flexibility to create space for his sounds to resonate (which may sound too convenient given the title of his first album: “Space is Only Noise”). However, this does not mean that his style can be characterized as minimalist; instead, the runtime of his songs allows the remarkable sound design to shine through.

Sound design is the most important instrument Jaar uses to lend the album cohesion. Radio screeches and hesitant fragments of high-pitched, video game-like sounds are present throughout his oeuvre. On “Sirens,” however, he deftly weaves almost onomatopoeic sounds with clearly acoustic or electronic creations to an unsettling effect. Perhaps the most prominent example is that of shattering glass, which carries metaphorical political meaning. Shattering glass is among the first sounds that appear on the record—it flickers around descending piano arpeggios on the brutally critical opener “Killing Time,” which references the refugee crisis in Europe and the clock-related arrest of the 14-year old Ahmed Mohamed. That same sound later reverberates in the beat of “Three Sides of Nazareth,” which also compellingly integrates another anxiety-inducing symbol—ticking clocks—into its rhythmic structure.

“Sirens” also features forceful, yet far from straightforward lyrics. Jaar sings in both Spanish and English, with the Spanish language songs more explicitly related to Jaar’s experience of Chile. Thus the standout “No” features the words “Ya dijimos no, pero el si está en todo” (“We already said no, but the yes is in everything”)—a reference to the consequences of the 1988 referendum that ejected the Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet from power. The earnestly heartbreaking crescendos of “no nada cambia” (“no, nothing changes”) on “No” are contrasted by the cynical “History Lesson”—the most conventional and simultaneously the most meta-musical song on the record. Its extreme bitterness in response to the lack of true societal change is conveyed through the juxtaposition of the almost infantile sweetness of the production and the unpleasant bluntness of the lyrics: “Chapter One: We fucked up.” However, “Sirens” with a seemingly direct address from Jaar to his listeners: “Oh… but… baby… Don’t you decide it?” which might be an expression of futility even in democratic conditions or a hint of hope.

The politics of “Sirens” seeps into the album’s cover art. It consists of lottery paper that, when scratched off, reveals a picture of Times Square with a controversial installation by Nicolas Jaar’s father (the contemporary visual artist Alfredo Jaar). The words, “This is not America” flash on a screen over a map of the U.S., intending to highlight the common neglect of most South American countries in the public discourse regarding “America.” “Sirens” frequently uses recordings of Nicolas Jaar’s childhood conversations with his father, which seem to bridge the gap between Jaar’s two national identities and physically link songs such as “No” and the English-language “The Three Sides of Nazareth.” Jaar’s newest record succeeds in drawing attention to the issues his father emphasized without losing any artistic merit. The personal aspects of “Sirens” hinted at through the use of his archival recordings are more powerful precisely because of the album’s political implications.