Jolie Holland with special guests Little Mazarn
Jolie Holland has forged a timeless, captivating musical legacy; as she mines the depths of her, at times harrowing, life experiences, her creative choices are rooted in honesty and presence. They are also fearless.
On October 6th, she will unveil her latest collection, Haunted Mountain; intricately connected with friend and collaborator Buck Meek’s album of the same name, Haunted Mountain features five songs co-written by the pair, including the mesmerizing title track. “When he told me he was including our song on his next record, I was extremely pleased at the weirdness – I was going to release a version as well,” Holland says, adding that they had each planned to give their albums the same title. “We thought about it for a minute and decided it was bizarre and wonderful. I am enormously pleased that Buck chose it as his album name too.”
Haunted Mountain brims with poignant metaphors, alongside vivid, lyrical imagery meant to expand the collective imagination. Her words, delivered in her haunting, smokey lilt, stir the soul and shine a focused, unapologetic light on the tragedies of our time. She reckons with disaster capitalism, creeping fascism, colonialism, and patriarchal oppression. She confronts the very real terror that civilization is subjected to the whims of sociopathic men wielding unearned power who are capable of unfathomable destruction. She speaks to feelings of dispossession, alienation, and groundlessness, and the insidiousness of “othering.” She recognizes society’s dangerous tendency towards the avoidance of trauma, validates the helplessness we all feel in the wake of geopolitical upheaval, and elevates the sacred significance of humanity being in reciprocity with nature.
Holland begins the journey of Haunted Mountain with “2000 Miles Is Nothing,” a yearning masterpiece about love. “Feet On The Ground,” which could be mistaken for Radiohead or Aphex Twin before Holland’s signature whistling comes in soaring atop organic electronic sounds, creates a sensation of floating. She duets with Meek in anti-colonial hymn “Highway 72”; its Americana-meets-Nyabinghi rhythm, accompanied by Meek’s beautiful Hank Williams-esque vocals, carries an autobiographical tale of life lived in the streets, trying to scare up spare change in the golden glow of a smoggy afternoon, then trying to sleep by the concrete arroyo at night. In “Orange Blossoms,” Holland explores man’s disastrous effects on a fragile planet, as some of its most fragile beings, pollinators in blissful flight, do the work of holding the world together.
Working closely with her talented collaborators, Adam Brisbin and Justin Veloso, Holland painstakingly crafted Haunted Mountain, turning textured layers into a seamless collage, capturing the magic of each moment in real time. Ever the innovator, she captured the sound of knuckles rapping on the piano and the warm chorus of cicadas in album closer “What It’s Worth.” The intriguing atmosphere of “Feet On The Ground” was created by running a drum machine through an amp into a vast barn, every sonic experiment a testament to her willingness to push the boundaries of her art.
Haunted Mountain is an immaculate achievement of boundless creativity, profound lyricism, and thought-provoking artistry. With poetic storytelling awash in a dream-like sonic palette, Holland invites audiences on an alluring journey that leaves an indelible mark on the heart and opens the mind.
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Mustang Island, the third album from Austin-based band Little Mazarn, is a gentle force. Waves of grief crest like surf on the Texas coast. Wild horses break through long-shuttered gates, only to come back around. Lead songwriter, vocalist, and multi-instrumentalist Lindsey Verrill (she/her) joins bandmates Jeff Johnston (he/him) and Carolina Chauffe (they/them). The ten-song collection continues work with Dear Life Records. A full-throated romp through the capabilities of community-minded songcraft, Mustang Island is both naturalistic and futuristic, completely recasting Little Mazarn’s origins in primitive folk. Instead, the band reaches towards sonic experimentation and spacious expansion.
Lindsey’s heart-opening vocals and Jeff’s singing saw, both trademarks of the project, mix with unexpected bombastic drums, dissonant synthesizers, and a chorus of orchestral oddities. This mid-career ode dances confidently in the creative liberties granted by decades in the game – more dazzlingly lively, and honestly somber, than ever before.
The band’s crossroads branch across prominent Southern outsider music: On cello, Lindsey has recorded with Patty Griffin and Dana Falconberry. Jeff has played in Bill Callahan’s band, as well as with Li’l Cap'n Travis and Orange Mothers. Carolina is known for prolific solo project hemlock. Little Mazarn has also collaborated with Lomelda to release their last EP, Honey Island General Store (2023), following past LPs Texas River Song (2022) and Io (2019).
Alongside silliness and reverence, including covers from Kate Wolf and Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys, grief directs much of Mustang Island. Lindsey left her job of seventeen years teaching cello at a local school. Recording also aligned with the passing of Jeff’s father, a career educator in Jeff and Lindsey’s hometown of Dallas.
“Grief, and the avoidance of grief, is a big part of being human,” says Lindsey. “You make a choice, and then you grieve for the other choice. Or you finish a meal and literally grieve that it was so good. If you really befriend grief, you’re like, ‘Oh, it’s here, in this pancake, which I loved so much that I ate the whole thing, and now it’s gone.’” -Rachel Rascoe
‘The music of Little Mazarn is a cool float a few feet from the ground through a dimly lit, almost familiar forest. It is quieter than silence, big as everything, still but always moving. If you’ve ever had flying dreams, or an amazing night time bike ride on LSD, this might be a world for you. Chords are made up of notes; Little Mazarn gives them all their own moment. There are NO superfluous notes played here. Lindsey’s kind and twisting voice ambles along over the spare sounds of Jeff Johnston’s saw bowing, Ralph White’s electric mbira wanderings, and her own slow banjo. Like DJ Screw, Bohren & Der Club of Gore, and anyone who chooses to walk instead of ride, Lindsey realizes the amazing power of slow… slow… slow music. Lindsey is at once a baby and a wise old man. Get in this canoe at dawn on some Texas river that remembers when Comanche slept under the stars.’—Thor Harris, Talkhouse
