REVIEW: mary in the junkyard Carve a New Path on Debut ‘Role Model Hermit’
WRITTEN BY OSCAR ORTEGA
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Role Model Hermit sits at the intersection of longing and acceptance. Disappearing into the haunting tranquility of opening track “Mantra III” leaves one feeling these two emotions. “It is yours babe, you deserve it,” vocalist Clari Freeman-Taylor repeats, her voice appearing as though a dejected, enigmatic figure waning through a sparse oceanic landscape. Erratic drums scatter throughout, angular violins drive the track until Freeman-Taylor’s slow croons devolve into an isolated and disquiet plea.
On its opening track, Role Model Hermit makes sure to emphasize the line between love and isolation; it’s a sentiment that unravels through various different scenarios across their debut. “Mouse” sees Freeman-Taylor as a seaside hermit, her voice wavering through moments of grandeur and stillness. An orchestral backing rises and wanes as though oscillating through moments of immense euphoria and dejection. Subdued guitars and plucky synths drive “Peter The Dog” into a false sense of ease. Freeman-Taylor imagines a dog eating her alive as to escape the emotions that permeate her daily life. “I’ve been feeding pieces of myself/Into his large and open mouth/And he is always hungry,” she confesses, accepting her fate as a vessel for something else’s pleasure.
There’s a sense of discomfort that undercuts even the brightest of moments on Role Model Hermit. Beautifully arpeggiated guitars and synth loops are offset by reflective, often skewed lyrics that embody a sort of self-conscious dance floor. “Blood,” a polyrhythmic groove superseded by Freeman-Taylor’s fervent yet timid vocals, paints a story of new love through an anxious and codependent lens. On the trip-hop inspired “New Muscles,” Freeman-Taylor’s reserved vocals clash against the smoothness of Saya Barbaglia’s sliding bassline. Despite her proclamation of a new chapter, one where she embraces a newfound sense of self-confidence, Freeman-Taylor continues to find solace in reclusive spaces. On standout “Crash Landing,” she reaches an apex and confesses “I want to go outside/But I’m scared you’ll melt away if we leave this place.” The track’s post-punk drive diminishes into a moment of reflection, taking in the moment before reverting back to its upbeat chorus.
Mary In The Junkyard finds solace in small spaces. But peel back the isolating veneer on Role Model Hermit and you’ll uncover an intimate meditation on love and loss. “Welcome Back” balances in between these two themes beautifully. Freeman-Taylor’s hushed vocals are dispersed between careening violins and ethereal guitar arpeggios, culminating in a finale that perfectly captures the core ethos of their debut. Despite the fear that comes from leaving the familiar, there’s a beauty in simply letting go.