[Transcript edited for clarity]

Absent Sounds: I wanted to ask about your recent single, "Needle." You mentioned it's about being addicted to isolation, which really resonates with me as someone who tends to withdraw and spend a lot of time alone. Could you talk more about that?

Jordan Klassen: Yeah. I've always seen myself as an extrovert — someone who enjoys being social and making people laugh. But after COVID, I was surprised by how hesitant I was to engage socially. I felt isolated and stuck in a bad mental space. Just making the choice to go out, spend time with people, or even attend events felt like flexing new muscles. Everything suddenly seemed more draining. Maybe part of that was COVID, maybe part of it was just getting older. "Needle" is about feeling like a needle in a haystack — lost in a crowd and unsure of what I have to contribute. That's the feeling behind it.

Absent Sounds: That sounds like a confusing and uncomfortable place to be. It reminds me of a song lyric I love: "needle in a haystack life." When you say that, it makes me think about how discomfort can sometimes be meaningful. Before you felt this way, how would you describe your relationship with socializing?

Jordan Klassen: I think most of my friends would describe me as the funny guy — the one making jokes.

Absent Sounds: Was that your role in the group?

Jordan Klassen: Yeah, depending on the group, but I was usually the one saying absurd things, being silly — maybe a bit of a curmudgeon too. That used to be my role, but now I don't know. Again, part of it might be getting older, but COVID really changed things. A lot of people embraced the relief of saying no to everything, and when that period ended, I had gotten too used to it. I stopped pushing myself socially.

Absent Sounds: When I listen to your music, I would have assumed the opposite — that you were more introspective. Not that funny or extroverted people can't be introspective, but it's usually associated with quieter personalities. That wasn't what I expected. How did you find your place in music or get started as a singer-songwriter?

Jordan Klassen: In high school, I played in a lot of bands. After graduating, I wasn't sure about university — what I'd study or what path I'd take. From an early age, I just threw myself into songwriting because I love creating. I love brewing ideas and building a catalog of work. Music was always the thing for me, and I haven't really looked back since. I'm in my late thirties now, so that was 15–20 years ago. I've experimented with different genres over the years, but I always come back to contemplative, quiet music — the kind you put on in the morning or while traveling on a train. Early in my career, someone told me, "Make music you love. Think about the best record you could imagine listening to, and make that record." That's what led me to where I am — a brooding singer-songwriter type.

Absent Sounds: Two things stand out. First, when you mentioned writing for yourself, it reminded me of something I read about writing — how you shouldn't think about an audience but focus on what you personally wish existed. It made me think of Seymour: An Introduction by J.D. Salinger, where the main character is told, "You should write for one person." That really stuck with me. Second, you said your music is great for traveling, and you're about to go on tour in Europe. How are you feeling?

Jordan Klassen: I'm excited. This time is different because my wife and I had our first baby in April — a little girl, four and a half months old now. Leaving her is going to be hard and weird. It's the first time I have something truly anchoring me. I've always had the freedom to do whatever I wanted, but now there's this deep connection that makes it harder to leave. But I love traveling in Europe and playing shows. I'm going with good friends, so I know it'll be great.

Absent Sounds: What's your relationship with Europe been like? Have you toured there a lot, or have your trips mostly been for fun?

Jordan Klassen: This summer, my wife and I vacationed in France. But before that, I toured in Europe a lot, especially in Germany, because I had great playlist placements there. It became a big focal point. It's been a few years, though, so I need to go back and reconnect with everyone.

Absent Sounds: I want to pivot a bit. On Absent Sounds, we love deep dives into albums. With you, to talk about one, we also have to talk about the second. Marginalia is the first, but from the outside, it feels deeply connected to Glossolalia. How did those two projects take shape? How did they become separate yet intertwined?

Jordan Klassen: In 2019, I got a big grant to make a record. That gave me the chance to ask myself, "What have I always wanted to do? What's my dream project that I haven't been able to afford?" The answer was to go into the studio and record everything I was writing. Normally, because studio time is expensive, there's pressure to work fast. But with this grant, I had a much more open timeframe. We recorded 17 or 18 songs. I started putting something together, and that became Glossolalia. But while I was working on it, there was this part of me that really loved these other songs too. The songs I didn't choose weren't B-sides; they just fit together in a way that didn't align with Glossolalia. So I thought, why not put out a double record? I released Glossolalia and Marginalia. They're sister records, recorded in the same sessions. The vinyl is a double vinyl. They're separate but connected.

Absent Sounds: When people approach your two albums, do you want them to see them as companion pieces?

Jordan Klassen: I think they have similarities because they were recorded in the same sessions, so they share certain vibes. I'd want people to know they were made in the same place, but at the same time, I realize that 20+ songs is a lot. I don't expect people to listen to everything all the way through. For me, it's about writing for one person. These songs fit together and represent a time in my life. They belong together, if that makes sense.

Absent Sounds: We wanted to ask about the title Marginalia. The term often refers to notes written in the margins of a text. How does that concept tie into your music?

Jordan Klassen: Marginalia references that idea — it's like the notes in the margins of the book. I took a few more risks with it, included songs that feel a bit more offbeat in my catalog. But again, I don't think of it as B-sides because they're not throwaways. Even my manager said they like Marginalia more than Glossolalia. It's just something different.

Absent Sounds: How did writing and releasing this challenge you as an artist? Did you see yourself change in that period?

Jordan Klassen: It's funny because everything was recorded at the same time, so in some ways, I haven't actually released new music in years. A big challenge was learning to let go and be patient. A lot of artists crave the rush of making something new and putting it out, but when you have to wait, it's tough. Luckily, some things in my career shifted — I started scoring films, which gave me financial stability and something to focus on while I waited.

Absent Sounds: We'd love to dive into the lyrics and tracklist, starting with the lines you pull from an Orthodox prayer. Can you tell us about that?

Jordan Klassen: Yeah, my wife and I are converting to Orthodoxy, and there's a prayer that has always stood out to me. It says, "pray you yourself in me." That phrase feels so mystical and mysterious. I spend a lot of time in my head, and I get caught up in it. The idea of someone praying themselves into me — it's about the tangibility of relationships. Relationships, in a spiritual sense but also in an everyday sense, bring you back down to earth. It's about touch, sight, taste, sound — all these things that ground you in reality when you're stuck in your own world.

Absent Sounds: "The smaller you make yourself, the bigger the world becomes." What does that idea mean to you?

Jordan Klassen: I think it's a bit of a rebellion against the way relationships exist today — so much of our connections happen online, on screens. But real relationships, where you see people, smell them, notice the little things about them, those are different. That's something I need.

Absent Sounds: I was just reading something about community. A lot of people try to substitute real community with digital interactions, but texting a friend once a week isn't the same as meeting up in person. It doesn't necessarily replace it — it might be a cherry on top, but it's not the same foundation.

Jordan Klassen: Exactly. Zoom calls, DMing — it's fine, I do it too. But it's only 75% of an interaction. When you say hello in person, it's not just the words. It's their facial expression, the way their eyes light up. Those little things make a hello more than just a word on a screen. My baby doesn't say any words yet, but she's still so engaged. And I worry about her growing up in a world where it's becoming normal not to make eye contact. That's sad to me.

Absent Sounds: That reminds me of a quote: how much larger your life would be if you could make yourself smaller in it. If you looked at other people with curiosity instead of worrying about your own role in things, you'd see the world differently.

Jordan Klassen: I love that. It's this idea that you're not the main character — and actually, you're happier when you're not. I feel happiest when my story is part of a community's story.

Absent Sounds: Let's talk about "Casey." It's been described as a companion to "Nico." How do they relate?

Jordan Klassen: I wrote 17 or 18 songs, but I added a couple more when I decided to make Marginalia. "Casey" was one of those. I knew I wanted something a little more upbeat because, even though I write contemplative songs, an album needs tension. If it's all slow, it drags. There's another layer to it — I was diagnosed with OCD in 2020 or 2021. I wrote "Casey" during a really bad period with my mental health, and in many ways, it was a cry for help. "Casey" could be anyone — my wife, God, I don't know. It's saying, fix this for me. Blow the whole thing open. Do surgery. I need help. It might sound more upbeat, but it's a really sad song underneath.

Absent Sounds: We both have a long history with OCD, so we really relate to that feeling of being at the edge.

Jordan Klassen: Yeah, there was a time when I thought, what if I feel like this forever? That's one of the scariest things — fearing the fear itself. The key to OCD recovery is learning to accept the uncertainty. But "Casey" is me not accepting it. It's me saying, this has to stop.

Absent Sounds: Do you feel like you're in a different headspace now compared to when you wrote it?

Jordan Klassen: Yeah. For me, OCD comes in seasons.

Absent Sounds: There's this quote — "You love things you lose because what else can you love?" You can't love things eternal, but what else is there to love on earth? There isn't really anything you can love that's going to be here forever.

Jordan Klassen: Well said.

Absent Sounds: Going to "King of the Empire" — it talks about the futility of non-spiritual pursuits, vanity is vanity, all is vanity. It all seems to relate back to the idea that the intangible is most important. How were you looking at that with "King of the Empire"?

Jordan Klassen: I think I was reflecting a lot on the inclination to individualism in our culture. This idea that you are the main character. I think it's just marketed as a path to happiness, but it just isn't. It's an unhappy place when you're the king of your empire, in my experience. All my joy, all my happiness is in shared things where I have to make sacrifices. Actually, being a parent — there's always this part of you that's like, do I really want to sacrifice sleeping in, sacrifice getting to do whatever I want? And then when you have your child, it's like, oh, this is so worth it. I'm surprised by the joy in letting go. That's what "King of the Empire" is about — finding meaning in the ineffable or spiritual aspects of life instead of just trying to fill your stomach and create a little empire.

Absent Sounds: A compromise isn't even really betraying yourself or your values, because if you really are compromising for something, then you're moving towards your values — because you value that person or relationship. You're sacrificing something, but you're not losing yourself.

Jordan Klassen: The self can be very individualistic. Like, the self is not actually just the things that you determine and declare — other parts of it are just what other people contribute to you and your life. When I say that I spend a lot of time in my head, these are the kinds of things I think about a lot. How is my culture shaping me in bad ways? Maybe that's really nerdy or weird, but it makes sense to me.

Absent Sounds: I appreciate you saying that, because if you're not thinking about it, it's just going to shape you without your consent — regardless of whether you want it to or not.

Jordan Klassen: Totally.

Absent Sounds: When you mentioned the idea of defining yourself in relation to others — you can't define yourself without having relation — that also connects with the next song, "Overstep," especially in the context of social isolation. Where does this song fit within your search for connection?

Jordan Klassen: Yeah, it's a call to taking responsibility for yourself. A lot of us have been dealt bad hands. I didn't want to have a mental illness, and it's not fair that I have it. But the only thing I can do is really take responsibility and make choices. I can acknowledge the pain of the injustice of it and process that. But then again, the only thing you can do is take the risk. No one's gonna do that for you. And I think that is the hardest step for me — I like to be the guy who figures out the problem in my head and pontificates about it, but I don't actually like to be the person who takes the action.

Absent Sounds: Was it hard, even growing up in your 20s or 30s, to come to the ability to accept it and take responsibility?

Jordan Klassen: No, it took a long time. It's just not my inclination. I'm not an action man. I'm an ideas guy. The best advice I got as a writer was just do it. Don't stop thinking about it. Stop waiting till you feel inspired. A writer is someone who writes, not someone who thinks. The action part is never the instinct for me, so that is always the thing I have to push myself to do.

Absent Sounds: Has there been any helpful ways in getting yourself to consistently take action?

Jordan Klassen: Getting married was the best choice I ever made, because you have somebody else to help you see yourself. There's a responsibility — they need you, and if you want to make it work, you have to do something. You can't just think about it. My wife will call out my bullshit, and in the best way. So that's been very helpful.

Absent Sounds: Tell us about "Live Another Life."

Jordan Klassen: I think anyone with OCD will understand the idea of feeling like you've lived another life in your head. There are times of intrusive thoughts where you're like, who is this person? Suddenly I'm worried about these irrational things that just don't reflect my values. And it feels like there's two people living inside of you — that's what the song's about. My wife actually also has OCD, so some of it's about her. The second verse is about her. She has a different kind of OCD — more about worries in the world, cautiousness and contamination.

Absent Sounds: I don't mean to interrupt, but were you afraid, even having a child — if you both struggle with OCD — that it would negatively influence the child to grow up in that way?

Jordan Klassen: Yeah, totally. We talked about that all the time. Every night we pray that she doesn't have OCD. Also, I think the fact that we're both aware of it gives you the best chance of not starting those neural pathways. It's a huge step up from what we had. Our parents did a great job, but we already have a huge advantage there.

Absent Sounds: When you say that, it also reminds me — it's not fair to have to struggle with mental disorders, it takes away from your life. But having it means you can relate to someone else in a deeper way. Who else better to nurture her, if she does have OCD, than you two?

Jordan Klassen: A hundred percent.

Absent Sounds: So we'll jump down to "Old Flame." What emotional discoveries did you make during the process of writing the song or the record as a whole?

Jordan Klassen: I think "Old Flame" is really about asking, why am I always on a ledge? Why do I have these huge anxieties about making these weird decisions? It's like there's this voice in my head that's like my old flame — like a bad ex you can't stop getting back together with and breaking up with. To me, it's one of the most interesting songs on the record because I wrote it before my diagnosis. I'm actually talking about OCD, but I didn't realize it when I wrote it. There's one line in it that says, "be careful what you wish for because you might find yourself beholden to the answers you find."

Absent Sounds: Orthodoxy. The man who searches. He wrote Orthodoxy, right? Chesterton?

Jordan Klassen: Yeah. He said the man who searches for truth is in great danger of finding it, which I've always thought is such a great quote. I relate to that a lot.

Absent Sounds: Jumping off of that too — there's a story about how a man dropped something in a busy street in New York City, and nobody turned around and paid attention. But then he dropped some change, and then people turned. It's whatever you're listening for, that's the thing you're gonna notice, even in a busy street.

Jordan Klassen: Yes.

Absent Sounds: It feels like it ties into "Where Else Would I Go," because the title itself feels like a reflection on running towards something. And then it's like you're running towards something that was always there the whole time. Tell us a little about the foundations of this song.

Jordan Klassen: I was raised as evangelical and left that in my twenties, early thirties. I think there's something about religion that will always be an important part of me. And so "Where Else Would I Go" is about me looking around at my friends leaving their faith — there's no judgment, but part of me is practical. It's not just "I'm so in love I could never leave." It's "I have nowhere else to go. No other option."

Absent Sounds: When you mentioned Father John Misty, I listened to an interview with David Bazan — he's no longer Christian, but he talks a lot about how he'll always be searching and fixated on things like that, because it's just something that, for a lot of people, is so ingrained in them.

Jordan Klassen: Look towards the transcendent.

Absent Sounds: Yeah. And your music resonates with a lot of people. It's interesting that even when people leave their faith, it still comes up in their music or writing. Bands that are not Christian — I think about Little Kid or Oso or Foxing — they always are still coming back to these themes, even if it's been years.

Jordan Klassen: In Vancouver, the whole scene is filled with people raised in church. What other opportunity do you get as a kid to play an instrument in front of people? It's a huge gift. It's one of the best things about evangelicalism. There's a lot of bad things, but that's one of the good things. And yeah, I think it gets a pretty bad rap for a lot of understandable reasons, especially political stuff that irks me. But there are a lot of gifts that come with being raised as an evangelical as well.

Absent Sounds: And we've reached the final track. It feels as if it is a closing message to the whole album. I feel like I'm going to mispronounce it, but — Vanya?

Jordan Klassen: Yeah.

Absent Sounds: My sister's name is Vanya.

Jordan Klassen: One year, our family was like, "Okay, we're pretty materialistic, so for Christmas, let's all make our gifts for each other." Gift-giving is a huge thing in my family, a culture created by my mother. And yeah, so I was like, "Obviously, I'm going to write a song. That's what I do." And I drew my sister's name. Vanya has two little girls. She's my little sister. Her husband got in this really crazy accident — got hit by a car in Vancouver when he was biking. Massive concussion. Concussive depression for years. Totally changed his life. He was working in the Downtown Eastside with people in recovery and couldn't do that anymore. Really rough five or six years. I think my sister represents the person silently laying down her life for everyone else. Maybe people don't notice. She's in pain. The song was me being like, "No, I'm going to see you and acknowledge how beautiful you are and how much everyone needs you." I recorded a demo of that song and emailed it to her on Christmas morning. She listened to it, we all cried, and that was that.

Absent Sounds: That's so beautiful. Was your relationship with your sister always one where you felt like you had to protect her? Or did your role transform over the years?

Jordan Klassen: I think when we were younger, I wasn't a great brother. As adults, I think I am somebody who demands a lot. My sister is one of those people who quietly helped my whole life. In a lot of ways, she's protected me. She's only 14 months younger than me, but she's more like an older sibling. There's this funny legend about her — my mom leaving her in charge even though I was the oldest. Because I was the kid climbing the tree, drawing pictures, unaware of other people and what they needed. I was just this creative flake. My sister's always been grounding, good at organizing and getting things done. I wish I was the protector, but if I'm honest, I don't think I was.

Absent Sounds: If you could reflect back and think — "this is something that I think was really important that I did that cultivated a good relationship with them over the years," or something you wish you had done that you're trying to do now — what would it be?

Jordan Klassen: Yeah, I think I would probably sit myself down and be like — "You have an inclination to need to be right, to understand, and to have certainty about things. You need to let go of that." One of the strengths about living in your own head all the time is that you can really develop a robust philosophical grounding. But also, in good relationships — friendships, family — there is this aspect where you're open to the unknown. "I'm willing to let you change me." It took me a long time to learn that.

Absent Sounds: I'd say, "Stop having to know everything and just listen."

Jordan Klassen: Yeah.

Absent Sounds: And that's a wrap. Thank you for listening. And thank you, Jordan, for being with us. This was a lovely conversation — it's really important to be willing to let people change you.

Jordan Klassen: Thanks. This was really fun. I love this kind of thing.

Absent Sounds: We love listening to you talk about yourself. It was great. Thank you.