Julien Baker’s Dark Magic
by Matt Hendrickson (Februrary/March 2021 for Garden & Gun) / photo by Alysse Gafkjen
The most distinctive feature of the album, though, is that Baker has added a fuller sound to her arsenal, including banjo, mandolin, and, for the first time, drums, rather than the spare guitar and piano of her previous efforts. She’s opened the door another crack, revealing a richer self-portrait. “I still have this crazy control hang-up for some reason,” she says. “But I didn’t realize how much I missed collaborating with other people.”
Baker is understandably wary of characterizing Little Oblivions as a redemption project. She declines to give specifics on the events of 2019, though she knows she can be way too hard on herself. “My therapist says I’m the person with the least amount of self-compassion she’s ever seen,” she says wryly. But she’s grateful that she’s been given time to focus on her well-being—and on Beans (who now really needs to be let out). She muses about getting another dog, which she’d name Cornbread, of course. “I never really got the dog thing,” she says. “I was like, yeah, animals, cute. But they’re love in its best form. She’s not even particularly good. She’s not particularly obedient. But I still have this unexplainable bond to her. She’s taught me a lot about myself.”
