Nicole Zuraitis has established herself as an important and distinct voice in contemporary vocal jazz by maintaining creative control over her writing, arranging, and production. A two-time Grammy Award winner and six-time nominee across four categories, Zuraitis first gained widespread recognition for her 2019 arrangement of Dolly Parton’s “Jolene.” Her 2023 studio album, How Love Begins (La Reserve Records) — co-produced with bassist Christian McBride — won the 2024 Grammy for Best Jazz Vocal Album, making her the first independent artist to win the category with an entirely self-written and self-arranged program. She built on this momentum with the dual-volume studio project Siren Songs (La Reserve Records) in 2025 and the subsequent live recording Live at Vic’s Las Vegas (La Reserve Records) in 2026, which earned dual Grammy nominations for Best Jazz Vocal Album and Best Jazz Performance for the track “All Stars Lead to You.”
Her latest release, The Devil I Knew, marks a significant departure from standard jazz recording formats. The project is structured as a 20-track, five-part “jazzlore epic.” Rather than presenting a collection of standalone songs, the album functions as a personal song cycle divided into five interconnected thematic chapters: The Mirror, The Martyr, The Malediction, The Reckoning, and The Requiem. Conceptually, the record examines the emotional deterioration, self-reflection, and accountability tied to the end of a relationship. By integrating jazz instrumentation, literary poetry including settings of texts by Emily Dickinson and Dorothy Parker, progressive and cinematic orchestration, and confessional songwriting, The Devil I Knew represents Zuraitis’ most ambitious and structurally complex work to date.
The structural architecture of the record relies on a clear thematic progression, with each of the five chapters functioning as a distinct psychological stage. Under the production guidance of Larry Klein, the instrumentation shifts dynamically between intimate jazz-trio configurations, horn sections arranged by Jerry Hey, and orchestral textures delivered by the Budapest Scoring Orchestra with arrangements by Vince Mendoza.
The first chapter, The Mirror, focuses on reflection, initial denial, and the vulnerability of self-examination. It opens with the minimalist “part I - the mirror,” utilizing an adaptation of Dorothy Parker’s poetry over David Cook’s piano framing, before shifting to heavy, grooving post-bop textures on “Won’t Make It Out Alive,” driven by Christian McBride’s acoustic bass and Larry Goldings’ Rhodes work. A roots-infused blues aesthetic defines “Call My Name (I Dare You),” anchoring Zuraitis’ vocals alongside Jon Cowherd’s organ and Scott Sharrard’s electric guitar.
Transitioning into the second chapter, The Martyr, the record shifts toward interpersonal conflict, the burden of emotional sacrifice, and the realization of overlapping relationship dynamics and responsibilities. The instrumentation introduces sharper rhythmic edges and modern post-bop harmonic structures. On “Two Steps Back (The Overlap),” the straight-ahead swing is disrupted by aggressive, complex tenor saxophone lines from Donny McCaslin, while the guitar work transitions from Sharrard’s blues phrasing to the complex, modern jazz textures of Gilad Hekselman on “Never a Mistake,” establishing a colder harmonic environment.
The third chapter, The Malediction, addresses anger, resentment, and confrontation with the toxic elements of the relationship, presenting the album’s most experimental sonic textures. The title track, “The Devil I Knew,” blends McCaslin’s tenor saxophone with contemporary electronic treatments and ambient backing vocals from Sirintip. The rhythmic foundation features crisp, modern drumming by Dan Pugach, while Dean Parks contributes acoustic and electric guitar layers on “Vice, Versus,” creating a dense, cinematic pop-jazz crossover aesthetic.
In the fourth chapter, The Reckoning, the tone softens into a more introspective acoustic frame to mirror realization, accountability, and the painful processing of finality and one’s personal responsibility. “The Hardest Part” relies on the delicate, atmospheric guitar work of Idan Morim, providing space for Zuraitis’ vocals. Mendoza’s sweeping string arrangements become prominent here, particularly on the Klein-co-written track “Let Us Hang,” where the orchestral backing underlines the gravity of the lyrical themes.
The album concludes with the fifth chapter, The Requiem, which emphasizes grief, acceptance, and eventual emotional transformation through traditional jazz structures and sparse orchestration. Following the orchestral textures of “Back to You,” the group delivers a stripped-down, traditional reading of the Hoagy Carmichael standard “I Get Along Without You Very Well (Except Sometimes),” featuring a classic jazz quartet setting with McBride, Hekselman, and Pugach. The project closes on “The Epilogue,” featuring only Zuraitis and David Cook, returning to the stark piano-and-voice vulnerability that opened the cycle.
The Devil I Knew is Nicole Zuraitis’ love statement delivered as a spear in the otherwise homogenous sand of jazz (or any kind) vocals. By expanding a standard jazz record into a dense, multi-chapter narrative structure, the singer avoids the safety of predictable arrangements. The album succeeds because its large ensemble remains subservient to the stark emotional basement of the songwriting rather than fore- or overshadowing it. In a contemporary landscape frequently tailored to brief, algorithmic engagement, this 20-track collection demands a patient, linear listen. Zuraitis uses the collapsing relationship as a lens for a broader study on accountability, intentionally stepping into the role of the narrative’s flawed protagonist rather than its simple victim. For listeners evaluating her trajectory following her 2024 Grammy win, the album proves that her creative independence extends far beyond her business model. The Devil I Knew presents as a structurally complex, uncompromised artistic statement, solidifying Zuraitis’ position at the forefront of modern vocal jazz songwriting. The singer effectively napalms the normal method of jazz recordings with a bold statement, delivered with the force of colliding emotions and desires. She uses all of her jazz talent and experience against themselves to produce a taut and dramatic narrative of love slowing to an inevitable end. This recording deserves end-of-the year consideration.
Nicole is an inspiration. This work a masterpiece. "A patient linear listen"....will do :)
❤️