Describing themselves as being “made up of dream story weavers, many myths, and a three stringed banjo,” Brooklyn-based outfit Mother Juniper use traditional folk influences and subtle ambient textures to conjure songs at once organic and ethereal. This duality between natural and spiritual is rooted in the natural but not constrained by it, delving beyond the mere material world into something deeper and more mysterious.
Take new single, ‘Carolina’, a track of stark banjo and pressing background tones, the vocals compelled along like some daydream message, some hymn or incantation. “‘Carolina’ came about while exploring connection’s winding dance,” they explain. “It was born in observing the absence and presence of my father, then the absence and presence of lovers.” The result is a song loaded with oneiric strangeness, the sense of uncanny discovery particular to dreams.
Yet from this arrives a newfound sense of logic, as though in pushing beyond—be it into the subconscious or something deeper and less personal—meaning can be found, even if it remains enigmatic in its origin or ends. “Sleep is seen as a place of comfort and there’s an openness discovered in losing one’s own name while dreaming,” Mother Juniper continues. “Sleep becomes a place of truth and a revealer of patterns.” Somewhere to craft new stories, new myths, new ways to define yourself beyond your history or name.
Carolina had the hottest summer she’s ever seen
and I often lose my name in my sleep
but there you go, you’re gone again
you’ve already left and I can’t for the life of me
make up a story that lets me feel easy
make up a story that lets me feel free
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‘Carolina’ is out now and available from the Mother Juniper Bandcamp page.