Tunes Tuesday: Jayden Barber

Photo credit: Melissa Andolfato

You’ve been away in Lisbon. What did that trip teach you that you’re excited to bring back to the states? 

I was only in Lisbon for a month in December 2025, but my last show was in October. So by the time of my show at Providence Place this May it’ll be about 7 months since my last time playing live. Lisbon was a much needed reset period focused on working on my album and reassessing some things broadly. Where my interests are moving, what I want to be making, what excites me.

I really needed time away from playing shows. I never want a show I play to feel like I’m just going through the motions because I’m saying yes to whatever opportunity pops up. There’s definitely value in that grind, but at a certain point it’s really stagnating. Playing the same spot 2-3 times a month for a year straight isn’t interesting, for an audience or for myself. And people wonder why their shows are always dead.

Stepping away helped me recalibrate and really focus on how I want my work to exist in the world, and protect it by retaining control of the environments it’s experienced in.

Short answer: It’s helped me realize I’m not leaving my house unless I’m really excited about something.

What can you tell me about your debut LP, I Don’t Confess It, Even To The Walls?

It’s about 90% done. It was recorded in Providence and Lisbon, the two greatest places in the world. It carries the heart of both in the music: the fog and the lights and the streets at night.

How do you think your Portuguese and Cape Verdean roots influence your music? 

The title of my album is a loose translation of Amália Rodrigues’ ‘Nem Às Paredes Confesso.’ Fado has always been a strong influence. That melancholic sentiment always sits at the core of my work. I think of it as a contemporary form of fado: the same emotional origin.. the same jaded, at times apathetic longing, that in its expression becomes something beautiful.

A performance at Providence Place Mall is such a fun idea. What made you think of it?

I’ve had the idea to do something at Providence Place after hours for years now. Malls are the temples of America, they hold so much of our collective memory. My mom worked there when it first opened in 1999, until my birth in 2001. I basically grew up inside of Providence Place. I would love to know the number of miles I’ve walked inside that building at this point.

Even though these malls aren’t that old, they’re glaringly stuck in a certain time. Now we’re watching them all quietly slip into obsolescence and become living memorials of our childhood. With the uncertain future of Providence Place, this performance feels like some form of proactive grieving for me.

It’s like sensing someone you love is on their way out.. and soaking up all the time you can with them, and telling them you love them while they’re still here. To be able to be by their side like that is a luxury, one I didn’t have with McCoy Stadium, so that’s something I carry into this.

After the stores close, the lights go out, and all the noise of traffic and commerce are gone, it doesn’t feel like just a mall anymore. You realize you’re in this absolutely cavernous, surreal, and nostalgic liminal space. These are the environments I’m interested in activating and presenting my work in.

What other creative locations around the state would you like to perform at?

On top of the Superman Building. In the basement of the Superman Building. Inside the old Building 19. Pierce Field and Centreville Bank Stadium after the stadium lights go out. On top of the Arcade parking garage the night of PVDFest after everyone goes home. The grounds of McCoy Stadium. Whatever abandoned buildings are left before they become unaffordable apartments. Under a bridge. In the fog.