by Benji Heywood (@benjiheywood)
In some ways, Mary Timony is more alone than ever. As her music career reaches its fourth decade, the Washington D.C. native finds herself solo in every sense of the world. Her new album, Untame the Tiger, out now on Merge (and named Post-Trash’s Album of the Week), is the seminal indie rocker’s first after spending most of the twenty tens playing in supergroups Wild Flag (deceased) and Ex Hex (still very much alive). It’s also her first album since the death of both her parents and the dissolution of a long-term relationship.
If the world feels especially cruel, Timony is the last to know. Speaking to Post-Trash from her home on the eve of Untame the Tiger’s release, the singer and guitar virtuoso sounds carefree and positive. This juxtaposition between heavy circumstance and Timony’s unsinkable attitude reflects what Untame the Tiger does so well; namely, it pairs profound loneliness with the kind of melody-driven songs that have captivated fans since her influential band Helium hit the scene in the 90s.
It's possible this juxtaposition is intentional. Timony herself says so, but it’s also possible that loneliness and likability are at the core of who Timony is. We caught up with her to discuss the making of her new album, her parents’ final days, and what it’s like to square being hailed as one of the best guitarists of a generation with the unglamorous reality of a lifelong indie rocker.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
photo credit: Chris Grady
Post-Trash: You recorded Untame the Tiger in several different places at several different times. In ten years when you think back to the making of this album, what do you think you’ll remember?
Mary Timony: Working with Dave Mattacks. He’s this legendary drummer who played on every 70s record that you can think of, all these classic records that I’ve listened to thousands of times. Nick Drake. Brian Eno. Stuff that's like the Bible to me.
PT: What’s it like working with your idols?
MT: Well, in this case, Dave is an incredibly gifted musician and a great person. He’s a legend. I guess I lucked out.
PT: Do you consider yourself a lucky person?
MT: That's an interesting question. Not at all, I would say. Like, I'm always struggling and trying to make shit happen. It's hard out here in the world, for everybody! We're all trying to fucking figure it out.
PT: The reason why I asked—and I know this is personal—but during the making of the album you were caretaking for your parents, both of whom passed away before the album was finished. I’m so sorry for your loss.
MT: Thank you.
PT: What was that experience like for you?
MT: Life changing. First of all, I was in a long-term relationship that ended, then immediately my dad got sick. Then he got dementia and needed a caretaker. So, I came and took care of him, which I could do because I live right down the street. Then my dad passed away and a week later my mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. Meanwhile, I’d started the record because the studio time had already been booked. It was intense.
PT: So, you’re making a record and caretaking at the same time?
MT: Yeah, basically. For the next year, I was working on my record and taking care of my mom. She received this incredible medicine that kept her around for a year after diagnosis. But then it stopped working and she died. It was rough. But after she died, I was able to work through all the little things that would have normally stressed me out about making a record because everything was in perspective. I wasn’t afraid of anything anymore.
PT: I wanted to ask you about that. A friend of mine recently passed away from lung cancer and at the end of it, I was more scared, not less.
MT: How old were they?
PT: 49.
MT: That’s rough. When someone younger passes before the older generation moves on. But that’s life. Life is always a tragedy. What I'm saying about not being scared anymore is realizing just how short life is. Things that I used to let intimidate me, I don't give a fuck about anymore. I'm not stressed out about some dumb shit happening, because we're all here for such a short time. You can’t stress about your record when you’re stressed about whether your mom’s going to die the next day, you know?
PT: But doesn’t that temporality make life feel insignificant? Like, why make a record if nothing really matters? What’s the point?
MT: I found out what I really cared about. I care about making art and connecting with people. That’s the lesson I learned from my parents dying but also from them as they died.
PT: How so?
MT: While my dad was dying he became obsessed with music. Which was weird because he never cared about music until he got sick.
PT: Any artist or music in particular?
MT: I went over to his house one day and he asked me, Mary, who’s the greatest poet in Canada? And I’m like, searching for poets from Canada on my phone, ‘cuz I don’t know. But then I finally figured out he’s talking about Leonard Cohen. So, I bought him a little boombox and a Leonard Cohen box set on CD and he listened to that all the time. He was obsessed.
PT: Did he like any song in particular?
MT: He loved “Dance Me to the End of Love.” It’s about a person dealing with their death in a concentration camp. We printed out the lyrics. He would listen to it over and over and sing along.
PT: But he didn’t always love music?
MT: That’s the thing. Not really.
PT: Had he or your mother followed your music career over the years?
MT: Also, not really. My parents were pretty straight. My dad was a judge and a lawyer in D.C. My mom was a grade school teacher. They didn’t get the whole “alternative” thing. They were worried about me but after a while, they were proud that I was doing my own thing.
PT: Do you feel like in those last years caretaking for them that you got closure?
MT: Yes. That's the gift I got from being around and helping so much. I got closer to them. And I was able to work through stuff in my head. It was an oddly wonderful time. Even though it was really fucked up, there were moments that were very meaningful.
PT: There’s that lyric from “Dominoes” on the new album—"you can’t love without letting go.” Did you write that in response to this experience?
MT: It’s funny ‘cuz that line was just a throwaway at first. “Dominoes” wasn’t even going to make the record. It was just a fun song about falling for the wrong person.
PT: That’s the beautiful thing about music, right? A song can mean one thing to you and an entirely different thing to someone else. Thinking in the context of my friend who passed, it really fucked me up!
MT: I knew it meant something (laughs).
PT: Elsewhere on the album you describe loneliness as a guest. Is that how you perceive loneliness in your own life?
MT: It's like a houseguest that will not go away even though you keep throwing it out. And it just like comes back and it's knocking on the door and you're like, goddammit, I told you to get out of here. Then finally, one day, you just let it in and it stays.
PT: Is loneliness always there for you?
MT: I guess so. I wrote a song about it (laughs). I’m kind of a loner, by nature. I don't even realize that I'm lonely. And then I'll just be like, Oh, my God, I feel so fucked up. What's wrong? Oh, yeah, I'm just really lonely.
PT: Are you hard on yourself? About being a loner?
MT: Am I hard on myself?
PT: Yeah, or are you like, fuck it, that’s who I am.
MT: Probably a little of both.
PT: I wonder if this loneliness is maybe part of the reason why you're able to continue making relevant music when so many of your peers are either not making music anymore or worse, making music that’s sort of shitty.
MT: Here’s the thing. I’m going to be making music no matter what. I’ve tried stopping and I get so bored. I have to do it because it's my therapy, the way I work out my psychological shit. And I don't mind being in a certain level of pain. It’s like going on tour, which is hard work. But I don’t mind sitting in the van all day. What else am I'm going to do with my life? So, I just keep on doing it. It's the only way I know how to feel like a normal person.
PT: Do you listen to your records after you make them? Does the therapy continue?
MT: Not really. Not unless I have to relearn something. I’d rather listen to other people’s music.
PT: Do you feel influential?
MT: In what sense?
PT: Like, there’s a ton of musicians who credit you as influencing them, that your records shaped how they play music. Does that feel like anything?
MT: I mean, I'm very grateful for that. But uh, yeah, I don't know. I don't sit around and think about it. I really like playing guitar, more than singing really. I get a lot of satisfaction out of practicing and writing stuff and teaching guitar. I really care about it. So, it’s nice to feel like someone else heard what I've done and cared. That's a nice feeling.
PT: Do you feel like an elder statesperson? Not only in indie rock, but in your life. Now that your parents are gone?
MT: In one sense, it's kind of nice, to be honest. I'm not tied down to anything. Sometimes I feel like a rock and roll hermit or something. Like this person who lives in a house with cats and a lot of musical gear. I just want to keep doing a lot of music, because that's what I really enjoy doing.
PT: What’s next then?
MT: I’m going on tour with a lot of amazing bands. Then, hopefully Ex Hex will do more stuff. Maybe I’ll do another solo album.
Untame the Tiger is out now on Merge. Her tour dates can be found here.