Review Summary: Mysterious and immediately captivating
I know that I've changed, I do not look the same
How do I explain
Can you see the waves, if you concentrate?
During a trip to Iceland, mary in the junkyard frontwoman Clari Freeman-Taylor’s mind was flooded with visions of a past life. In that time, she was a fisherman who died at sea while trying to keep his pet mouse from drowning by tucking it into his jacket pocket. Ultimately it was in vain, as the storm prevailed and the ocean swallowed them both. Whether or not you buy into reincarnation,
Role Model Hermit is performed with the kind of convincing emotion that comes with having
lived through something. Freeman-Taylor even personally portrays the fisherman on the album cover, with a small white mouse adorning her shoulder. It all makes mary in the junkyard’s debut album as mysterious as it is immediately captivating.
‘Mantra III” immediately gives
Role Model Hermit that weathered, lost-at-sea sensation with a splattering of drums, a forlorn viola, and spacious, echoing vocals that are hushed and wispy yet somehow still fill up this entire world they’ve crafted. It immediately conjures images of foggy harbors, as mary in the junkyard set the scene for their wiry, textured brand of folk-rock that feels a little bit like Big Thief telling us ghost stories. It’s an eerie and muted album that also expands into bigger moments and dramatic landscapes, altogether both meditative and adventurous.
mary in the junkyard are at their best when they lean into their experimental cravings. There are moments when Freeman-Taylor - who sounds unlike anyone else in the scene right now - will full on whisper a chorus, or the drums and guitars will practically suspend themselves mid-air, creating a dramatic pause with tangible tension and even bigger anticipation. Drummer David Addison’s contributions are particularly crucial to
Role Model Hermit’s prevailing vibe, consistently dishing out unpredictable patterns that almost sound like the old, creaking boards of a wooden ship while Freeman-Taylor’s belts and sighs serve as the ever-changing winds at the back of the boat’s sails.
The album builds on itself and arguably doesn’t peak until the very last song - the haunting and blustery ‘Mouse’. It begins as an acoustic folk song backed by Saya Barbaglia’s stunning violins, until Clari provides a rockier thrust with her urgent electric guitars thundering their way to the forefront. Lyrically, the track sees Freeman-Taylor’s vision come full circle, as she reconnects with the mouse in its reincarnated human form. The song ends with a mini-breakdown followed by an eerie choral chant and spine tingling stage-whispers that usher in an apology from the narrator to her mouse for not being able to save him from drowning. With that, desolate strings sweep the album out to sea with the rest of the wreckage, and
Role Model Hermit comes to its ultimate conclusion.
Role Model Hermit should prove to be an exceptional launching pad for mary in the junkyard. Most upstart bands do not reach, let alone commence with, such strong thematic unity and the uncanny ability to express it through every single instrument used. There are still some more traditional folk tunes here that prioritize traditional melodies above delving even deeper into the story behind that grizzled fisherman on the cover, but for all intents and purposes, this checks all the boxes that fans of indie-folk will be seeking - above all, the presence of a distinctive voice and a fresh sound. If they’re not the darlings of indie immediately, then they certainly seem to be sailing upon that trajectory.
I’m so sorry we drowned
The sea swallowed us and then spat us out
Mouse, at least I've found you now
s
