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Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Somewhere over the rainbow is Super Jack’s new album, (although the claims it’s not always rainbows).

On the other side you’ll find heartbreak, creative blocks, spiritual whiplash, and the quiet ache of asking yourself the same question over and over again.

It’s Not Always Rainbows, the newest album from New Jersey-based artist Super Jack, is a deeply personal, genre-blending loop that turns vulnerability into poetry and confusion into connection.

Across 15 tracks, Jack spirals through love, disillusionment, identity, and artistic evolution, never settling in one genre or answer for long. It’s raw. It’s layered. And it might be his most honest record yet.

I’d say if I had to give a final verdict, this is an album about thinking and also an album about love. Romantic love and love for others. Love for music. All music. No label or box bullshit.

The record jumps between electro-soul, hip-hop, funk, and lo-fi poetry, often in the same song, but what holds it all together is the feeling. It’s Not Always Rainbows feels like letters left unsent. It’s Super Jack unspooling, rewinding, confessing, questioning, and letting the contradictions breathe.

And while Jack swears the project wasn’t inspired by The Wizard of Oz, it’s hard not to draw the parallel. The whole thing plays like an emotional Oz: a surreal, self-sabotaging dreamland where “home” is elusive, and nothing is as simple as black and white. The connection wasn’t intentional, but it was uncanny enough to surprise even him.

A Personal Reading of the Album

The first time I heard It’s Not Always Rainbows, I couldn’t stop thinking about The Wizard of Oz. Not because Jack intended it (he didn’t), but because the emotional undercurrent felt so familiar. Dorothy’s story is a psychological maze. A tension between craving more and missing what you left behind and between chasing color and learning it won’t save you.

Super Jack’s record feels lodged in that same storm: a sonic cyclone where clarity and confusion trade places, and the idea of “home” keeps shifting shape.

The album kind of loops on itself to show that you are trapped in this parable. It’s an album about thinking.

Each track felt like a page torn from Dorothy’s story, even though Jack had no clue he was writing his own Oz. And that’s what makes it powerful: it wasn’t manufactured. It’s just the way grief, hope, and longing always sound when they collide. A storm. A spell. A spinning house. A dream you wake up from bruised.

It’s not always rainbows is, in a sense, a series of letters…It feels to me like a series of little conversations. A lot of my earlier albums had a bigger sense of collaboration on them…and I wanted to get back to that. I wanted to make a record that showcased voices I loved. It’s a love letter, some of the songs are a real love letter too, or at least that’s how I viewed them. I was dating someone at the time, and to me I felt like a lot of my lyrics were contemplating that idea that I was in love, and how I also be overthinking. At the time, I thought the final verdict of it was: “it’s not always rainbows”, it’s not always gonna be good, everyone has problems…but maybe that’s not it, “I don’t have the answers” is something I believe another song says. The album kind of loops on itself to show that you are trapped in this parable.

Just like Dorothy, Super Jack just wanted a place where things felt right. And that yearning echoes through this album like a chant: I can’t go back there. I can’t go back there.

Jack never meant for his new album to follow a yellow brick road, but somehow, it landed there anyway. Not because of the visuals, but because of the heartache. The search. The realization that even technicolor dreams come with shadows.

And like Dorothy, Jack isn’t just trying to find a way out, he’s trying to find where he belongs.

Not in a genre. Not in a box. Not in someone else’s fantasy.

But in a place that feels real.

Even if it hurts.

STORM & ENTRY: Longing for Change, Chasing the Night

Before you can find the light, you have to step into the storm.

The first two tracks of It’s Not Always Rainbows feel like a portal opening. A sonic shift from the static of everyday life into a warped, unfamiliar reality full of tension, craving, and the kind of dissonance that lives in your chest. This is Super Jack mid-transformation, chasing something intangible, not quite knowing where it’ll lead.

Tune of the Night

“Tune of the Night” opens the album like the quiet eye of a storm, haunted by past selves and the ache of disconnection. The line “I haven’t felt the night in a while” echoes like Dorothy’s first yearning to leave Kansas: not out of joy, but out of emotional necessity. That craving for something — someone — that used to make the world feel brighter.

Tune Of The Night” was a poem I wrote during a bad time in my relationship…this idea that I felt like I hadn’t felt this low in a while. It’s crazy how all this can affect your emotions. The ‘there’ [in ‘I can’t go back there’] represents feeling this blue. The blues of love feel blue-er, maybe the blue-est.

Originally a poem, the track was transformed with textured synths, vinyl scratches, and eerie organ flourishes from collaborators Tulip and NevEd — layering sonic shadows under the spoken grief. Jack later wove its closing notes throughout the album to create a looping, dreamlike cohesion.

That’s why it’s called ‘tune’, to make it feel more whole.

Are You Rockin Wit (feat. LJ The Angel)

Where “Tune of the Night” holds you still, “Are You Rockin Wit” hurls you into motion.

With help from LJ The Angel, the track spirals through ambition, paranoia, and the spectacle of self. “Turned my life into my favorite TV show” becomes a kind of thesis for surviving in the age of visibility, whether you like it or not.

A lot of this album was made under the influence of THC…I kind of just wanted to make a rap beat in ¾ — it’s an odd time signature. I’ve been experimenting with that a lot. But yeah, I have to present myself to you in a form for you to listen.

Even if it’s a performance, it’s a necessary one. The question that lingers behind the track isn’t “are you rockin wit me?”, it’s do I even recognize myself anymore?

TRAPPED IN A FANTASY: Head vs Heart, Thinking in Circles

There’s a particular ache to being both the Scarecrow and the Tin Man, overthinking and over-feeling your way through a world that doesn’t slow down.

Gotta Think It All Over

On “Gotta Think It All Over,” Jack gets stuck in the loop. The beat trudges forward like a question with no answer. “I cannot move out, I’m locked in — so is it my home if I’m trapped in?” feels like something the Scarecrow would mutter to himself while spinning straw into knots.

I don’t know a lot of people who are in control of their own life fully — I’m certainly not. Recessions, mental gymnastics…it all feels circular. This is a favorite of mine though, feels like it’s got its toes in a couple different pools.

There’s a claustrophobia to it, but also a curiosity. Like he’s mapping the walls of his own brain, even if there’s no exit.

Atrophy

Then comes “Atrophy”, a slow-motion unraveling of the heart. The synths flicker like flickering joints, as if the Tin Man was writing a love letter in the rain. The phrase “inside this heart of mine” is soft but gutted.

It’s also my favorite.

Love can weaken, love can strengthen. Love can take you. With the right person, maybe you can feel comfortable in the web of it all…You may be weakened, but you feel good. You trust yourself to be held in the grasp and protected. In my case, I wasn’t protected, but I’m sure someone is, ya know?

He doesn’t just write about heartbreak, he studies it from every angle.

“Do you see love and loss as emotional atrophy or growth through damage?” we asked.

His answer: “Both. It’s life, it’s living.”

But even living has its limits.

Why Don’t You Tell Them

On “Why Don’t You Tell Them,” Jack finally snaps the tether. It’s raw, vulnerable, painfully unsaid. “Tell them about me — I know it will help me” becomes a plea not just to be loved, but to be acknowledged: fully, publicly, truthfully.

This one has a very real story…but I will say this — I’ve come from a long line of being peoples’ secret. I’ve never had the relationship where it’s like, publicly known. If you yourself feel like this, I encourage you to ask this question. What happens in response is telling.

The quiet becomes thunder. Like Elphaba screaming through Oz’s lies while Glinda floats above it all, smiling for the cameras.

We’re in a dating culture right now where very few people want to actually commit. It becomes this cycle of hurt and jealousy…If you see someone over and over again in a romantic context, there’s probably something going on worth talking about. And it should be talked about before it blows up.

That final line — “Please tell them about me” — feels like a closing curtain. But instead of a bow, Jack walks off stage with the mic still in his hand.

THE RAINBOW’S REALITY: Acceptance and Illusion

It’s Not Always Rainbows

“It’s Not Always Rainbows” is Super Jack’s thesis, not just in name but in emotional tone. The beat is warm and ambient, but the lyrics say what few love songs will: we can’t fix everything, but we can sit with it.

I put this one after ‘Why Don’t You Tell Them’ because I felt like they were both sides of the same coin. In other words, she did tell them about me…It’s not giving up, it’s not running away, it’s being there to see it through. It's my belief in her.

Even though the story didn’t end the way he wanted, the song still does what great music always does, it holds space. “Just remember, for our health… it’s not always rainbows.” That line isn’t defeat. It’s self-care with a tempo.

Writing is what keeps me at peace. It’s definitely therapy. I protect my peace BY writing.

“Consider” and “If You Stay” play like a two-part dream sequence.

‘Consider’ is considering the end., ‘If You Stay’ is reveling in the idea of being in a good place, almost as if you’re not used to that. And I’m not.

The Wizard’s curtain has been pulled back. Oz isn’t magic, it’s bureaucracy. It’s trauma cycles. It’s loving someone who doesn’t love you back in the way you needed.

And yet, there’s beauty in the fog.

Consider

On “Consider,” Jack sings:

It’s amazing to see / what once was fantasy / has become all we know.

A line that sounds like awe, but also like burnout. Like the dream you used to chase is now your job, your habit, your cage.

It’s been a while since I wasn’t on the down low /

Even hope comes with a disclaimer.

If You Stay

Still, there’s fun to be found. “If You Stay” leans into ska, dub, and whimsy, complete with horns by Trash the Bath-House.

Their band material is very good. Definitely catch a gig of theirs if you can, it’s an experience.”

PULLING BACK THE CURTAIN: Satire, Rage, and Reality Checks

Foam Ears

If “Foam Ears” made you laugh, flinch, and want to punch a CEO, it’s doing its job.

This is satire with brass knuckles. A spoken-word clown car that crashes into capitalism on purpose.

It’s the only track where Super Jack steps out of the spotlight and lets another artist (Kaiser Unique) take the wheel, but make no mistake, it’s still part of his world.

That’s all Kaiser. He’s got that conscious yet comical edge, somewhere between sharp commentator and cartoon character…I knew I had to get him on this record.

The timing wasn’t random either.

We were both making albums at the same time. Some of the songs almost ended up on the other’s album. They had a sibling relationship.

And if you’re wondering what inspired the chaotic, righteous fury?

Obviously this was written around the time Luigi-mania was in the news. I approve of killing thoughtless rich bozos, but I don’t approve of Luigi. Seems like a typical Penn tosser. Fuck that place.

It’s Dorothy pulling back the curtain and realizing the wizard was just another man.

But instead of sending her home, he gets off scot-free.

Enter “Better Not Jump.”

Better Not Jump

The heat cools slightly, but the ache doesn’t.

This is where rage turns into restraint. Or maybe resignation.

Better not jump, it’s much too late now / Running on love, whatever you say, say now…

The hook is haunting.

Don’t give up, see it through. Only back down if you truly feel like you have no other option.

It’s a song written on a ledge, between quitting and continuing. Between rage and resolve. Between reality and the fantasy you wanted to believe in.

Shout out Max Volante though — happy to have worked with him on this album. We have many more tunes a-coming.

Together, these two tracks strip away illusions.

There is no emerald city. There is no wizard. Only the rubble of expectations, and what we choose to build in their place.

HOME, LOVE, & LONGING: The Emotional Epilogue

Every story ends with a return.

Even if it’s not to Kansas.

Know You Do & Love Me

“Know You Do” and “Love Me” arrive like twin satellites, orbiting love from two sides: certainty and craving.

What we know, and what we beg to believe.

These two definitely have a sister relationship. It’s the circle, it’s all about the circle on this album. It’s the dance of the broken.

The lyrics are raw but rhythmic, like love letters written after the fight, when your voice still shakes but you show up anyway.

When you say you don’t love me… but I know that you do. Ya see that I want ya to need me. Ya see that I need ya to want me.

This is Super Jack at his most exposed, and also his most healed.

Love is definitely the subject I’m best at writing about. Even when I’m kind of bullshitting, it seems to translate. But these songs, I wasn’t.

He also shouts out his current creative obsession:

Funk is my lifeblood these days. Sly & The Family Stone, Parliament-Funkadelic, Prince…I’m kneeling at the altar.

Then comes the finale. A beat too lively for the last album.

A track that didn’t quite fit and that’s exactly why it had to close this one.

Dance of the Broken Ones

The sun shines down on the broken ones…

“Dance of the Broken Ones” is the catharsis.

It’s the dance after the storm.

A final breath that says: I didn’t fix everything. I didn’t solve it all. BUT I’m here and I’m dancing anyway.

It’s all of us. We’re all a bit broken. But maybe we can feel outside of the way we are. I’d like to think so.

The Wizard of Oz ended with a simple wish: To go home.

But in Jack’s world, home isn’t a place.

It’s a memory. A melody. A moment where you feel held, even if just for a song.

I’m still walking toward it. I’ll always be on that journey.

There’s No One Like Jack

It’s Not Always Rainbows isn’t an album about giving up.

It’s about staying. Sitting in the storm. Loving anyway.

It moves like a poem, plays like a soundtrack, and thinks like a diary.

From funk to rap to indie soul, Super Jack bends expectations of what love should feel like, what home really means and what a New Jersey artist can sound like when they let go of every label.

He’s not trying to be Dorothy, but somewhere in the spiral of this record —between the doubt and the dreaming —

we couldn’t help but see a story that felt eerily familiar.

A tornado. A journey. A truth that hits harder than magic:

“It’s not always rainbows.”

And that’s what makes it real.

🎧 Want more?

Super Jack’s full-length album It’s Not Always Rainbows is streaming everywhere now.

But for the full experience, grab a physical copy at his shows or on his official store.

You’re gonna want to hold this one in your hands.

🎧 New Album: Listen here!

📸 Instagram: Follow him!

Purchase Album: Get it here!