Premiere: Whoa Dakota wrangles vicious cycles with debut album, ‘Patterns’

Only growing older can equip you with the self-awareness necessary to throttle (or completely halt, in some circumstances) the cruel circles of life. The marriage of such revelations of worth, strength and passion is categorically cathartic. Psychiatrist and author Jean Shinoda Bolen writes in her book, Goddesses in Everywoman, on the importance of recognizing personality traits of femininity, as they relate to the many Greek goddesses, in order to regain a handle on identity. “The journey towards wholeness results in having the ability to be both active and receptive, autonomous and intimate, to work and to love,” Bolen observes with stunning clarity.

Jesse Ott’s own rise from the ash comes from such a place. A Nashville transplant, by way of Little Rock, Arkansas, Ott promises her journey has been a somewhat healing on, necessary even, to her independence and understanding of herself and the world. Under the moniker Whoa Dakota, Ott records in great, unrestricted detail of an expedition that’s both worn her down and empowered her to keep plowing through the mud. Her debut album Patterns, premiering today, lifts Bolen’s work for several of the album’s spoken word entries. The aforementioned inspection of self-perception is extracted for “[home],” which is recited by one of Ott’s best friend Natalie Carol, lead performer of Los Angeles band Valley Queen. From the outside looking in, Carol’s cadence is one of sharp sweetness, urging Ott to come closer to enlightenment.

After reading Jungian psychologist Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ Women Who Run with the Wolves, which also deals with the imprint of archetypes “that teach us and condition us to be a certain type of person,” Ott reflects to B-Sides & Badlands about the books themes which then sent her to pick up a copy of Bolen’s book. “When you can identify the personalities in your own head using archetypes as a tool, you can decide who gets a seat at the table and who doesn’t. It’s so empowering; not only does it validate that you are the way that you are, but it gives you control ⎯⎯ so that you don’t just say, ‘Well, that’s just me, I’m just a jealous bitch.'”

Also excerpts from Bolen, “[cycle]” and “[heroine’s journey]” are equally as vital to the heartbeat of the album, cutting the album into necessary chunks of insight. “We cycle through patterns that bring us repeatedly back in the vicinity of whatever our nemesis is that we must meet and master / Each time we cycle around the spiral path to the place that gives us difficulty, we gain more consciousness and can respond more wisely the next time,” Ott processes on the former, a rather resounding turning point.

It’s the prelude to the title track, an R&B-grafted mid-tempo that is sticky, loose and groovy. “If you’d open up then you could get better, or you could keep it up and repeat your patterns,” she sings, not only as a challenge to the listener but a reaffirmation of her toxic habits. The past has a way of resurging, but as she further demonstrates, it’s about learning. The ’80s electro-pop stylistic stamp wrinkles and cracks outward into the rest of the record, upheld with themes of lovestruck liberation (“Clarity”), sexual and emotional gratification (“Animal”), returning darkness and self-loathing (“It’s a Feeling”) and being one’s own savior (“Let You In”).

With “Toe to Toe,” initiated by audio of Ott’s Nanny, who recounts the moment she left her abusive, alcoholic husband (Ott’s grandfather), the singer and songwriter wades through an exhausted and deflated friendship gone completely sideways, tying it in with Nanny’s own trek of steely-eyed resolve. “Here’s a song,” she brandishes, combing a country tone to striking effect. “Isn’t that what you wanted? / Is it pretty? / I hope I’m fulfilling all that you require of me / I wouldn’t want to let you down.” The song, which, as Ott stresses, is the “FUCK YOU” version of the album’s title song (detailing the burning-out of a friendship), pairs quite magnificently with Nanny’s frank account of things. “There are similar (emotional) abuse and manipulation themes, as well as substance abuse. I got a drunken phone call after months of living in the same house with no communication and was expected to be the friend he needed as a last resort in a black out,” says Ott.

Her relationship with Nanny, who often recounted similar other tragic tales, certainly informs the strength she wields in wide-sweeping strokes throughout the record. And here, it comes to a head. “[Their relationship] was like a movie. Like Johnny and June or Doo and Loretta. It was toxic, and there were times that got really abusive and bad. A large part of me romanticized their relationship,” Ott weighs, balancing the then and now, “and because I idolized Nanny’s strength and her wisdom so much, I think I subconsciously viewed toxic relationships as a rite of passage for obtaining those same qualities. The EP, ‘I’m a Liar,’ is about being in a similarly toxic relationship, which, had it gotten any further than it did, could have very well lead to some very dramatic and abusive scenarios.”

Still elsewhere on Patterns, Ott considers her place in a world of ruin (“We Create”) and fearful sabotage as she dives into a fresh new relationship (“Right Now”). From “[the blue light]” intro (a meditation on the distraction of screens to escape reality) to “[stories]” (another audio clip, this time of her father expressing undying, unconditional love and support of her career), Patterns is a heart-weary slate of recitations, each as profound as the last.

In holding herself emotionally accountable, a process that is as vital as it is brutal, Ott reached an apex of mastery of herself.  “It’s like a lobster that starts to grow out of its shell. It’s uncomfortable,” she says. “Growing is challenging and very painful at times, but it’s the only way to evolve to the most fulfilled version of yourself.”

What toxic cycles did you have to break?

It’s important to note first that I’m still very much in the process of breaking my toxic cycles. Things in our lives happen cyclically. Lessons we learn tend to crop up over and over again until we have stared them in the face long enough that we conquer those particular demons once and for all (see “[the heroine’s journey]”). I have a running list of shortcomings that are my contributions to situations or life becoming unworkable. The main ones I deal with on this album are my tendency to try and fix (people, or relationships) as well as my knee jerk reaction to remain passive in the face of confrontation, allowing other people to make decisions for my life or career.

The relationship that was being lost throughout the course of writing “Patterns” (the song) wasn’t ever going to be something that was salvageable. Looking back, it was ultimately a friendship that lacked depth in a lot of areas and was a case of seeing the possibility of someone and wanting to “fix” them, which isn’t healthy for anyone. As is the message of “Let You In,” you cannot be a clearing for someone else’s redemption. Self-torture and obsessing over rejection can be addicting. Letting go takes a lot of painful and honest assessment. When someone has made it clear that they no longer support you on your journey, it’s time to move on.

When did this journey really begin for you, when you realized the patterns you kept cycling through that needed to end?

For the above scenario, it was when I finally had a conversation with the other person about what went wrong. It occurred to me while having the conversation that the other party had spent very little time concerning themselves with the demise of our friendship. I realized the only person that was upset about the loss was me, so it was time to let that shit go. That’s when it finally occurred to me that regardless of fault or right and wrong, there will always be something I’m doing to contribute to my own personal upset. You can point fingers all day long, but at a certain point, you have to have accountability with yourself and how you’ve continued to damage your own psyche. I’ve learned a lot about recognizing when a conflict can only be “resolved” so far because each party has their own, unique version of the story.

Was writing and recording this album the final crossing of that threshold for you?

Not at all, actually. This is just the beginning of a lifetime of self-reflection. I was still a very passive person when I was writing and recording these songs. I am now in the driver’s seat and surrounding myself with people who empower me and who hold space for me to get this deep. I have just started embracing my power and with that will come new skins to shed. I do think it represents many moments of catharsis that certainly helped me to unload and process a lot of my baggage. But there is always room for more material and art because I will continue to unpack these and other lessons. Accountability and growth are muscles that need to be exercised.

Do you miss any parts of yourself from before?

I don’t have to miss any parts of myself because those parts are still there, for better or for worse. I continually have to fight certain behaviors like being passive or obsessing over something that didn’t meet my expectations. In the song “Let You In,” I reference “the girl that I’m protecting.” I am always that little four-year-old girl who cut her head on a table at school; I’m always the kindergartener who kissed a boy on the cheek on the playground; I’m always Jesse circa 2016 trying to understand why a close friend didn’t want me in their life anymore. The positive and negative parts of myself still reside within me (see “[home]”). I’m just taking more control as to who gets to drive the car.

Within the conversation of toxicity, it’s something that can be learned. Do you think that can also affect how we handle and perceive ourselves, even apart from relationships?

Absolutely. If you’re stuck in a toxic rut ⎯⎯ whether it be romantic or platonic ⎯⎯ that’s going to have a major impact on how you experience yourself and what you think you are worth. Things that are detrimental can seem benign in the experience; someone doesn’t have to be calling you names or hitting you to be bad for you. In my career as an artist, I used to work with people that weren’t interested in my story or what I wanted, though they seemed invested in me (they were ⎯⎯ but only on their terms). I was codependent on these people and didn’t experience myself as capable. Ever since cutting those types of people from my life, it has profoundly transformed both how I see myself and the power I allow myself to have on stage.

“The Blue Light – Reprise” is an especially powerful and timely moment on the record. How has sisterhood helped you in your own journey, and did that play a role in you getting to make this record?

The day Nanny died, I was going through her room and found a photo of my late Aunt Lena. On the back it said, “Mother I smile for you, I live a life from my heart, my soul, my spirit. May this life be the one that takes me to the garden.” I wanted to have all my favorite women saying it in their own way to the point where it gets to you can’t distinguish who’s saying what because ultimately this part for me is how much more strength we have in sisterhood. No matter what our story is and where we’re coming from, we’re always stronger together. Sisterhood is going to save us ⎯⎯ on an individual and global level.

I grew up with a crew of women who were like sisters so me, all of whom are speaking on the track. For a while, I was a bit disconnected from how much those relationships shaped me, mostly because we all lived in different cities. Since moving from home, I’d developed close friendships primarily with men. It really hasn’t been until very recently that I started working with women within the scope of music, and it’s unbelievable how much it has opened up my world. Regardless of how strong of a connection I can have with men, they will never come close to the depth of my relationships with women. Women are natural empathizers, and that’s oftentimes a skill that has to be learned by men, which isn’t bad or good ⎯⎯ it’s just different. I’ve never felt more understood or empowered as an artist than I do right now, and I know that has everything to do with the fact that I (finally) have a tribe of women in my corner.

The spoken word tracks really cement an almost concept record vibe. Was the inclusion of those something you had plotted out from the start?

Absolutely. I always loved the idea of having a recording of one of my Nanny talks on a record. She was the best storyteller (same with my dad….stay tuned for some of his on upcoming albums), and now, I’m getting to do my own version of that. I also wanted to include some of the brilliant concepts of ‘Goddesses in Everywoman’ and give the audience road signs for where we were going next on the record or to help surmise the general feeling of the songs surrounding the transitions. I also just love that mixed-media audio feel I’ve heard on albums that do something similar (see Erykah Badu’s “Penitentiary Philosophy” on ‘Mama’s Gun’ or Frank Ocean’s ‘Blonde’).

“Animal” is a watershed moment, when you finally celebrate yourself and find a healthy relationship. How has that relationship helped wash away the past and invigorate you? Do you feel you are considerably a different person now?

It’s not the past is washed away by this beautiful relationship ⎯⎯ our pasts continue to shape us. This song celebrates the joy of a healthy partnership but is very much about how we have chosen each other and chosen to do battle with our own demons and face each other’s. It’s not a utopia but rather a commitment to fighting to keep romance alive while we face our own ugliness with love and grace.

I don’t think anyone is exactly the same person that they are at 20 as they are 25 or 30. In my mind, the whole point of our lives is to be constantly evolving, and certain people that we encounter help us to do that while certain others discourage it or give us cause to exercise our more unhealthy behaviors. The old Jesses are still rumbling around below the surface, and every now and again one will try to seize control. I get to create who I am in any given moment, which sometimes is easier said than done.

Photo Credit: Elisabeth Donaldson (bottom photo)

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