By Beth Naji***There are concerts… and then there are experiences that leave an imprint on your heart. Two-time GRAMMY winner Nicole Zuraitis’ album release concert for The Devil I Knew at Dizzy’s Club was just that—an unforgettable evening of fearless artistry, breathtaking 
musicianship and profound storytelling. The sold-out room was packed with fellow musicians, singers, friends and adoring fans, ready to hear all 20 tracks (all but two tracks originals)—the entire album!
The Devil I Knew is an extraordinary journey of internal accountability and self-reckoning. The album is structured in five chapters: The Mirror, The Martyr, The Malediction, The Reckoning and The Requiem. Each contains its own “little books,” as Zuraitis calls the songs within them. Each chapter is connected through poetry by iconic female writers, including Dorothy Parker, Emily Dickinson, Edna St. Vincent Millay and Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, creating an exquisite fusion of music and literature.
The experience was beyond moving. Zuraitis wasn’t simply singing these songs but taking us by the hand, page by page, chapter by chapter, with the extraordinary gift 
of allowing us to accompany her on her journey—and somewhere along the way she makes us look at ourselves. Her voice can soar with breathtaking brilliance, then suddenly become so intimate it feels like she is whispering directly into your heart. Every lyric is lived. Every phrase speaks volumes. Every chapter leaves a mark.
The vocalist possesses a voice that is utterly angelic, yet grounded by effortless skills within a blend of jazz, R&B and even gospel. She balances immense power with a fluid, graceful vocal control that sent the entire room at Dizzy’s into another dimension. Zuraitis is also an extraordinary pianist, alternating with Jon Cowherd, who also played the B3 organ. The ensemble included Idan Morim (guitar), GRAMMY winner Dan Pugach (drums and Zuraitis’ husband), Sam Weber (bass) and spoken-word artist Johanna Telander. Bassist Christian McBride also guested for one number with Zuraitis: “He’s a Demon, He’s a Devil, He’s a Doll!” The band wasn’t just accompaniment; it was a spiritual conversation within the entire presentation of the album. Zuraitis didn’t simply perform the album; she opened the book.
Like Dorothy returning from Oz, carrying home lessons she never knew she was searching for, Zuraitis turned the pages, held up the mirror, and brought us back changed. Somewhere between the first page and the last, I had found a little bit of myself staring back. I think we all did.
Editor’s note: because The Devil I Knew is a masterwork, far exceeding the usual album parameters, here is Beth Naji’s concise description of the work:
Chapter I: THE MIRROR: Asking us to look honestly at ourselves—to encounter temptation, flaws, desire and truth, Zuraitis draws you in with magical, ethereal vocals: “Mirror Mirror on the wall, Tell me, am I saint or sin? Do I stumble, do I stall When temptation pulls me in?” A flicker of danger, with a gleam behind those eyes,” goes the first line of the next tune, “Won’t Make It Out Alive” through “I Dare You (Call My Name)” and more.
Chapter II: THE MARTYR: Here, the story turns toward love, self-sacrifice and heartbreak through tunes including “Wish I Could Love You” and “A Kiss Is Never a Mistake.” Her singing and writing skills are beyond touching: “My heart’s not only 
broken, it’s bent.” Dark and haunting with great depth, even deeper to the pain of self-sacrificing love: “Until then I’ll see you in my dreams, For there, a kiss is never a mistake.”
Chapter III: THE MALEDICTION: This is the place where anger, mistakes, and our own inner flaws must be confronted by recognizing the “devil”— a reckoning with the pain we carry and the mistakes we try to outrun: “I tried to wish it away, and wash the mistakes… Always relied on the sorrow, got used to the pain, But now it’s time to turn the page.” The messages continue into “All That’s Left” to“Maybe I’m broken, And maybe I knew, Maybe someday, you’ll forgive me too.”
Chapter IV: THE RECKONING: Here, we face pain and grief head-on with Emily Dickinson’s words: “I can wade Grief, Whole Pools of it… After great pain, a formal feeling comes.” This leads into “The Hardest Part,” a powerful meditation on learning how to stand again. Zuraitis sings of reclaiming pride, facing truth and understanding that letting go is often the hardest part of healing—and the realization that some things never completely disappear, and perhaps healing means learning to carry them with grace.
Chapter V: THE REQUIEM: Finality. Loss. The search for closure. Sorrow. Emotional release—but also survival. This chapter is about reclaiming personal power. The standard, “I Get Along Without You Very Well (Except Sometimes)” (Hoagy Carmichael, Jane Brown Thompson) truly captures that fragile moment when we try to convince ourselves we’ve moved on—but have we?
Photos by Marilyn Lester
