Mary in the Junkyard’s Debut Album “Role Model Hermit” Is Your Favorite Bedtime Story Retold
Mary in the Junkyard are inviting listeners into their hazy, introspective world with their debut album Role Model Hermit, released via AMF Records. The offbeat rock trio from London—Clari Freeman-Taylor (vocals, guitar, harmonium), Saya Barbaglia (bass, viola), and David Addison (drums)—formed in 2022 and quickly caught attention with their floaty, imaginative sound with an off-kilter attitude. The trio supported Wet Leg on their 2025 MOISTURIZER TOUR, and are currently crisscrossing across the UK/EU/US for their headlining tour.
Role Model Hermit is as cohesive and fully-realized as an album can be without feeling stuffy. A DIY, experimentative spirit of production (such as a slide guitar made out of a skateboard) establish the album’s blend of nostalgia and cutting-edge artistry. Folk underpinnings add to Role Model Hermit’s imaginative, lived-in feel, like finding a trunk of old costumes hidden in the attic. (The weathered sailor on the album cover is actually Freeman-Taylor in disguise). You slip into costumes and act out old stories and create new ones until fact and fiction blend and all you’re left with is the truth of your emotions.
The hypnotic “Mantra III” sets the tone of the album—whispery, scratchy, private. Freeman-Taylor’s soft repetition of “It is yours, babe, you deserve it / It is yours, babe, no one else’s” verges on an incantation. Maybe the band is speaking to themselves and how far they’ve gotten. Or, it could serve as a welcome to the listener and is an invitation to make this experience their own. In “Blood,” a bouncy, tripping melody and tapping cymbals are grounded by a break into a heavy-handed riff and conversational lyrical delivery. Tenderness and vulnerability are juxtaposed with grittiness and guardedness. The lyrics “And there is nothing to see here except sweetness / And I’ve got nothing to hide in your mattress” land like an admission through denial. The sweet nothings within the song (“There’s no shred of doubt in my brain, babe”) can be accepted at face value or take on a double meaning.
Wavering, strung-out notes capture the social anxiety, overwhelm, and self-isolation in “Seek and Destroy.” A buzzy edge of anxiety builds throughout the song. All is not well, even on the walk back to the safety of home—“I’m already halfway home / I think I fantasize and fantasize about all that could go wrong.” Freeman-Taylor’s delicate voice keening “alive, alive” is underlayed with a guttural echo of “seek and destroy!” “New Muscles” is reminiscent of the iconic scene in Terminator 2 when a ripped Sarah Connor is doing pull-ups in her hospital cell. The standout track opens with a tumbling percussion beat and irreverent, taunting “doo-doos.” Freeman-Taylor’s voice slides in, high and clear, like a long, slow draw across the upper register of violin strings. Sonic whiplash between the full, rich sound underlaying the verse “I embrace the thunder and the lighting” and the deadpan chorus of “I’ve been getting up and getting out” create a jumpy, frenetic energy. Unlike “Seek and Destroy” holding all of its anxiety in, “New Muscles” lets it all out—or does it? “New Muscles” is a fighting song, but the aggression still feels contained and muzzled because of Mary in the Junkyard’s inherent minimalist, reserved sound; the intent is there, but not the action.
“Myrtle” is unexpectedly bluesy but still carries Mary in the Junkyard’s off-kilter songwriting: “You look so pretty when you spit like that.” This track comes across like an updated take on feel-good, Y2K hazy pop; indie sleaze, but make it more earnest. “Peter the Dog” matches a twee doo-doo-doo-doo with a nightmarish black dog that eats fear. But don’t worry, he’s friendly . . . ish. That’s just Peter. He kind of hangs around. (Please don’t wake him up.) The floaty, dreamy “Crash Landing” and “Welcome Break” are equally atmospheric masterclasses in layering and restraint, rhythm and flow. Instrumentation pulls its weight while still feeling minimalist and creating room for the listener to curl up inside the songs. Mary in the Junkyard might be based out of London, but “Welcome Break” has a hint of the Southern Gothic within its lyrics (à la Flannery O’Connor and Carson McCullers) that speak to the album’s folk inspirations: “I saw God in the bushes / He was lit up by the light of the service station / In a woods by the side of the highway / A stillness that was so alone.”
Freeman-Taylor’s acoustic, solo performance of “Candelabra” began as a single she previously released in 2021 on her solo EP as Clari FT, and this recording still keeps its sparse, homemade feeling that is very reminiscent of folk legend Sibylle Baier, down to the opening background noise within the recording booth, lyrics fading into a hum, and ending squeak of guitar strings. The song is an invocation, but also serves as a warning against the danger of warring desires: “Don’t let me into your life, baby / I hurt you enough as it is / Don’t let me under your skin, baby / I’m full of false promises.” This track was made for anxious-avoidants who want to know someone from afar, but can’t speak when you’re sitting next to each other.
“Thou Shalt Sprout” and “Mouse” are both standout examples of Mary in the Junkyard’s songwriting brilliance. “Thou Shalt Sprout” is a dark folk tale where (unnecessary) sacrifice begets someone else’s survival. Harmonium, viola, cello, hand drums, and tinkling percussion are given a sinister edge with electric guitar. “Mouse” (that perhaps tells the tragic story of the album’s fisherman and mouse companion) opens with haunting, lingering tones that refuse to let go until they dissolve into unexpected electronic tones. Like the best bedtime stories, these narrative tracks make old emotions feel fresh upon every retelling. Like their band name, Mary in the Junkyard are experts at reinventing the common and familiar by placing it into an unexpected environment.
Follow Mary in the Junkyard to catch them on tour, and listen to Role Model Hermit below.
