mary in the junkyard flex formidable muscles on adventurous debut Role Model Hermit

“Mary’s a nice name, and the world’s a junkyard,” the trio who make up London’s mary in the junkyard told a Dutch interviewer a couple years back. Since then, bandmates Clari Freeman-Taylor (vocals/guitars), Saya Barbaglia (bass/viola), and David Addison (drums) have been exploring the idea of matching “the serene and peaceful with the chaotic.” It’s a dynamic that’s quickly evident as Freeman-Taylor’s airy, fragile voice wades into the mayhem concocted along with her bandmates. It’s also just one facet, the tip of the tire pile, of what makes the three so compelling on the bulk of their first collection of songs. On Role Model Hermit, mary in the junkyard rummage through musical daydreams and trust their chemistry as friends and bandmates while piecing together a debut as imaginative as it is eclectic. 

At first, tranquil opener “Mantra III” might feel like a gimmicky way for a young band to mark an auspicious moment. “It is yours, babe / You deserve it,” Freeman-Taylor repeats in differing cadences as Barbaglia and Addison limber up on viola and drums, respectfully. It gains a distinct charm, however, when you learn that the track arose from their warm-up routine for band practice. Suddenly, not only does it make sense that they would begin their debut LP with it, but you also start to suspect that mary are a band following their instincts, creating on their own terms and less concerned with whether or not listeners quite grasp the full picture at once. For instance, “Blood” probably doesn’t, as its music video suggests, capture a meet-cute with a yeti; however, the initial euphoria of prospective love, Freeman-Taylor’s switches from insistent whispers to smitten coos, and the song’s hopeful, bouncing nudge make it the ideal companion to any day out and about for a single person, abominable snowman, or otherwise.   

It’s in that realm that blurs daydream and daily life that mary dwell in the most. The simple decision to stay out or spend the night in turns dire as anxiety creeps in on “Seek and Destroy,” a tangle of cello and nervous second-guessing erupting into a full-on tantrum with a sinister metal growl beneath its swell. The torments of young desire are assuaged by an oracle figure on “Myrtle,” Freeman-Taylor’s vocal turns as beautiful as they are emotive. The skittering guitar, pattering drums, and intricate strings and backing vocals of “Welcome Break” transform a common traveler’s pitstop into a horror heroine’s test of self-reliance. As for “Peter the Dog,” man’s best friend comforts our solitary protagonist while sinking its canines into their emotional scraps in addition to any kibble. Some of mary’s musings may land cleaner than others, but rarely, if ever, can you say that Role Model Hermit plays it conventional or boring. 

The junkyard that mary wanders through certainly has no shortage of sounds, an observation made apparent as each of the five songs rolled out before Role Model Hermit’s release sounded almost nothing alike. The shadowboxing “New Muscles,” inspired by Barbaglia’s MMA background and Addison joining a gym, will become the clattering, trip-hop training anthem you turn to the next time you climb into the ring for some sparring. The harmonium on lead single “Crash Landing” eases our descent as Freeman-Taylor likens a crumbling relationship with an emotionally unavailable partner (“You opened up like a coconut”) to a final, catastrophic nosedive. Her dexterity as a vocalist, able to change delivery and relate raw emotion, along with Barbaglia and Addison’s ability to flesh out that vision musically, elevate a simple song like this one into something epic and far grander than you’d expect from an indie rock trio. 

The album ends on two full-on departures into storytelling that demonstrate that Freeman-Taylor’s imagination roams far beyond her own experiences. The rhythmically captivating “Thou Shalt Sprout” blends cello, viola, and percussion, giving her tale of a father-thief whose buried corpse provides crops to nourish his family (“Your heart was a beetroot / And your head was a lemon tree”) the impression of having been plucked from the pages of folklore rather than her own ingenuity. It’s not nearly weighty enough, however, to prepare listeners for the emotional heft of what follows. “Mouse” tells the story of a reincarnated fisherman who recognizes his companion from a past life, a mouse now also in human form. Freeman-Taylor’s voice cracks as strings and Addison’s percussion roll and crash like waves, her protagonist desperate to be remembered by his old friend. It may seem a bit silly at first, but the idea that love, friendship, or even sadness transcend our own lifetimes feels as worthy of exploration as any. The band has cited the song as a major step for them, so much so that the album art of Role Model Hermit features Freeman-Taylor portraying the grizzled fisherman, his tiny, white mate on her shoulder.  

On the acoustic “Candelabra,” Freeman-Taylor explains, “I want you to know me through my songs / They’re so much cleaner than anything I could say.” One of the first songs she ever wrote, it’s full of self-doubt, warning that she might be all thorns to the object of her affections while also clearly hoping to be picked. It’s the same voice, only more timid, that bursts with exuberance on “Blood” and aches brokenly on “Crash Landing.” It reminds me of that meme in which Carroll’s Alice and Baum’s Dorothy sit together beneath the caption “I’ve seen some weird shit.” If Role Model Hermit hints at the sort of adventures that lie ahead for mary in the junkyard, then the band’s namesake heroine might one day have just as confusing, strange, and oddly beautiful stories to relate. [AMF]

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