“Norman is a cool college town in the middle of Oklahoma,” he says. “Every once in a while, a great band pops out of the state. I’m doing my own thing. I move through different styles of rock. It’s alternative, but it’s aggressive. There’s also a little bit of folk because of where I’m from—of course.”

At a young age, he embraced music and never let go. A copy of The Clash’s Greatest Hits had a huge impact on him. “A cassette got stuck in the old radio of my friend Alex’s car,” he says, “and it was all we listened to while driving for a year back and forth from school, sports, and parties. He was the only one of my friends who had a car at that time, so we didn’t really have a choice. It was either listen to nothing or The Clash. Luckily, The Clash never gets old.”  At 14-years-old, he picked up a guitar for the first time. It didn’t take long for him to quietly start penning his own songs. 

In his late teens, Jordin fell in love with the likes of Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen. Simultaneously, he tirelessly worked for his family’s construction business, eventually, taking the reins of the company from his dad. In between long hours on job sites, songs gestated in his head.

“So many tunes came to me when I was driving to jobs,” he smiles. “I’d hear these ideas, and I’d go into the studio to record them. I definitely like creating anything I can from scratch. For me, building houses is sort of the same thing as songwriting. You create something that wasn’t there and design and shape it as you go along.”

The lead single “Get Up Kid” hinges on a head-nodding electric guitar riff, a hypnotic drumbeat sets the tempo. Staring down adversity, he leans into a chantable chorus punctuated by a question, “Do you want to live or die on your knees?”

“You can drive around and scream along to it,” he laughs. “It’s about dealing with adversity and refusing to stay knocked down.”

On its heels, “Just Like Me” fuses punchy guitars to a relentless rhythm. He nods to a Blue-Collar Oklahoma spirit on the refrain, “You can be from the Midwest, and you can be the second best, just like me.”

“Oklahoma is considered a ‘flyover state,’ so I tapped into that angst we have,” he says. “The song is essentially saying: It’s okay to not be perfect. It’s okay to not be beautiful. As long as you are trying, it’s okay to be whatever you are.’”

During “Here And Not Here,” guitars echo through the verses as he ponders a relationship in a tailspin. He laments, “We’re miles and miles apart.”

“It was a stream-of-consciousness song,” he goes on. “This person seems far away but is actually right next to you. A lot of people deal with the same thing when a relationship starts to fall apart.”

Then, there’s “Last Bastion,” tempering distortion and feeling. “There are so many different guitar parts,” he reveals. “I’m showing my grunge influences.”

Emotionally charged high register courses through “Home.” It culminates on an anthemic hook. “Fallen Angels” builds towards a moment of stark existential introspection. “Look to the stars and I pray for answers, but all I hear is silence.”

“I love the intensity behind it,” he exclaims. “It sounds like you’re screaming out of frustration. A lot of things are out of your control—such as life and death—so you’re just mad about the universe. You look up at the sky, but you don’t really get any answers back from it.” 

In the end, Mapping The Sky delivers identifiable and infectious rock right from the center of the country.

“When I’m in a dark place, I always retreat into music and listen to my favorite songs,” he leaves off. “I want to write songs that connect. I hope you can feel some sort of comfort and know somebody is going through the same things you are.”