Silent Century by Jackie West

releases February 27, 2026

“It’s me, baby, you”, Jackie West sings on the opening track of her new record, Silent Century.

Like a hall of mirrors, West’s sophomore record unfolds like a playful conversation between the artist and herself. Throughout the course of Silent Century, they confront head on “the ones that are telling us ‘don't speak’, uncovering their voice, seductive and surprising, no longer silent.

Dialogue is a constant theme throughout Silent Century (“it’s a shame that we let Socrates die — or did he really?”). West shapeshifts through varying perspectives, often within the same songs. She tests the boundaries of unreliable narration to investigate ingrained habits, only to strip away the pretense and deliver clarity and insight with vulnerability and poise. What emerges is a remarkable portrait of femininity and fluidity, of violence and forgiveness, of our capacity to heal.

The power of Silent Century resides in West’s ability to make small moments ring out and resonate just as much as loud ones. On the title track, she investigates the objectification of our bodies—who owns them, and at what price? Small details (“plastic underwear, “nightmare of dismantled pleasure”) illuminate centuries of gendered silencing. Yet, by the end of the ear-worm pop song, the “eternal beating” to be endured has shifted to “the earth’s greening” to be enjoyed. As West embraces her multitudes, whether choosing to speak up or listen quietly, she now claims sovereignty for herself.

Backed by Dan Knishkowy (Adeline Hotel), Sean Mullins (Moon Mullins), Nico Osborne (Nicomo), West tracked the record in a week with Katie Von Schleicher & Nate Mendelsohn (Market) engineering and mixing. Knishkowy also co-produced the record—countless living room jams bred a shared language on guitar, their interlocking instruments creating the backbone of Silent Century (notably on “Overlooking Glass” and “City Makes Me).”

The bulk of the record was tracked live, with the band learning on the spot, including the 10-minute jaw-dropping closer “Offer”, recorded entirely in one first take. West delivers her stream-of-consciousness meditation through generational trauma, quantum theory, and friendship with reflective grace and humor, a quiet confidence earned from the preceding ten tracks (“I’m buying seven dollar coffees and I'm complaining about how much money I spend on recording music / it's the best thing I could ever do—and also dream!)”

This heart of the record lies at its center, the back to back “These Are Not Sweet Girls” & “Course of Action.” The former takes its title from a poetry anthology of the same name. “Have pity on your brother”, one poem begins, “who has lost his sense of wonder,” epitomizing Silent Century’s relentless curiosity and fearless imagination. Guitars weave kaleidoscopic tapestries around each other while West encourages herself and the listener to keep their internal fire burning, to “grab the bright star—don’t let it out”.

On the latter song, guitars swirl over a kraut-rock beat while West contrasts the simplicity of her inner world (“I wake up slow / I wake up on my own time”), with the one outside (“people as bombs fly / people dead inside / people alive”). The album’s heaviest payoff comes halfway through, when the sole chord that makes up the song is reharmonized to illuminate “the symbols of earthly design.” With no discernible bar lines, it’s a song that feels like it could—and should—go on forever.

Whether leading us through the glow of new love (“New Moon”) or whipping the band into a cacophonous frenzy (“Thunder Ideal”), one thing is for certain: West never stops moving forward. “That will all change with time,” she sings on the achingly beautiful “Waves”, embodying the spirit of another poem from These Are Not Sweet Girls, this one by Anabel Torres:

“Now I am a woman
rooted to life like a kettle,
a kettle rooted to the void.
Be that as it may, everything that I touch
blossoms”