Jen Wood is in the midst of a long, bountiful career in music. She’s the hard working, songbird-voiced Seattle songwriter who recently came out with the new record, Wilderness, and who is well-known for her work with The Postal Service on the song “Nothing Better.” Given her storied past as a songwriter, we wanted to ask her One Super Important Question.

Jake Uitti: What is your fondest memory of making music?

Jen Wood: I’ve been thinking about your question and, honestly, I’m having trouble just singling out one moment. After 21 years there are soooo many memories to choose from … At first I was thinking about shows; what were my favorite shows I played. My first thought was when my first band out of high school, Tattle Tale, somehow got Kathleen Hanna (Bikini Kill) to come and play a show at one of our recurring Music/Spoken Word event series called “I Will Not Be Silent” – located at a cool little art space on 19th Ave on Capitol Hill. I think Sue Fox did Spoken Word at that show too. At that time, Kathleen Hanna was literally one of my heroes. It was one of those very surreal moments for me. Then the next show that popped into my mind was when Tattle Tale opened up for Morphine at The Great American Music Hall in S.F. Being on that stage, in that gorgeous and old theater full of so much character and history (all the greats have played on that stage!) was also a “pinch me I’m dreaming” moment. But, as I started to think more deeply about your question I started to ponder less on shows that I’ve played and more on actual experiences that had to do with me becoming the artist I am today. The ones that helped shape and mold me and encourage me to continue to follow my bliss.

I guess I’m reeling back to when I was 19, and it was my first experience going into a “real” studio, to record an album. It was the first time that a record label approached me and wanted just ME to record an album; I was completely stunned and excited (and really nervous). I didn’t think my songs were that great, and I didn’t really have a lot of confidence that I could have any success as a musician. I felt really discouraged actually. I was living in Santa Cruz, in a house full of strangers (albeit they were all really cool) and working at a vintage clothing shop. I was literally thinking (and getting sad about it) about quitting music when at that same moment I got a call from Tom Grimley asking me if I wanted to put out a record on his label (W.I.N Records). That moment was intense. It really felt like some sort of divine intervention. All I was thinking about was quitting and going back to school to pursue something else, and then the phone rang.

I got started with music when I was 14, but all of my recording experiences were super DIY (because, like most kids, I didn’t have any money to record in the studio)… such as recording on crappy 4-tracks and in people’s basements with makeshift setups. Anyhow, I worked with this wonderful, eccentric, and kind human being named Tom Grimley (in L.A). He had known me from my previous band, Tattle Tale, and he really believed in my ability and talent as a singer/songwriter. I was really young, naive and new to the business of music, and confidence was not something that came naturally to me… I really couldn’t believe that he thought I was good enough.

Grimley took me under his wing and became like family to me; he had to really teach me a lot about what it meant to be a “recording artist”… which was that you have to WORK. And, yes, you have to work hard. Grimley would sometimes have me do take after take after take after which sometime it felt like hundreds of guitar takes until I got it just right. I’ll never forget that was the first time that I played guitar (acoustic, keep in mind) for so many hours that I broke open the callous on my finger and it started dripping blood onto my strings. The pain of that feeling of steel strings cutting into raw flesh was horrific, but at the same time it made me feel like a total badass. I still had to keep playing guitar, so in between takes I would rush over to the fridge and open the freezer and ice my bleeding finger for a few minutes until it was numb and then I’d run back and we’d be “rolling” again. I was pushed past my comfort zone and pushed to really prove myself as an artist. Nothing about that time in the studio was easy, but everything about it was rewarding and humbling. Grimley forced me to recognize my talent; he taught me to value the natural gifts and talents I was given. That record we made together is technically my 2^nd solo record, but really in many ways it was my 1^st (Getting Past the Static). And, after lots of years and lots of growing up, we’re still friends to this day.