Marivon None of this is Mine

Our identities are a tangled mess. It’s strange to consider, but you—the reader—and I are distinctly joined through much more than this simple review. In some way, shape or form, most of our lives are wound up trying to untangle who “we” are from the moment of our birth. As a recluse, I often overestimate the value of holding myself separate from others, but Marivon’s debut record, None of this is Mine, challenged that.

None of this is Mine is a forty-four-minute concept album larger than Marivon’s Jill McKenna, featuring a diverse circle of fourteen musicians based in twelve cities ranging from New York to Banff. It would be a mistake to see McKenna as the center of this work as she is much rather the first stitch in the thread that brought this project together amidst an even longer lineage of music.

The record speaks to the reality that music is a story longer than just ourselves or anyone else, especially when you feel like an island. The lyrics strip down the familiar fears of being “a little too good at being alone.” And alone, it seems like this album focuses on the often-brutal perpetuity of existing, yet in the greater context, it reflects a sort of kindness and vulnerability. We are shaping the universal story together.

Vulnerability allowed McKenna to unapologetically mix genres in one space, highlighting her songwriting abilities and voice as the newest instrument in her repertoire. From her years as a child learning to play the drums, to studying jazz and the upright bass, it might seem like a strange idea to use the ukulele in the record, but this allows the tenderness of the album to become something palpable. Her love for ‘big band’ blends extremely well into this concept and allows for collaboration. The long list of eclectic musicians featured includes Geoff Hudson, Anna B Savage, Asuquomo, Lorke, Matthew Stevens and more.

This spirit of collaboration is sealed with the 17-line poem that forms the track list, written by neo-classical Canadian composer and poet Hannah Epperson. Here, the threads in this record can be hand drawn in a circle, just as McKenna did to help create the structure for Epperson to follow. As Marivon emerges onto the scene, I greatly admire the nods given to those who paved the way along the musical road. With both “Joni [Mitchell] and Fiona [Apple]” mentioned in the opening track, it is no doubt that their work influenced the album’s maximalist approach. No story is left behind. From jazz to hip-hop and everything in between, the division of genre is only a mere starting point that McKenna uses to shape the presentation of her work.It is from this kaleidoscope of ideas that she blossoms. None of this is mine, thus presents and answers a contradiction. We hold nothing and everything within this moment.

It is easy to feel alone in the vastness of existence, to build walls, and hide within, but this record reminds us that in learning to let go, we realize the connection we yearn for is still here. Life, just like music, comes and goes, yet somehow, these ephemeral moments we have together stretch without end.