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.
'Watching Little Mazarn perform is almost voyeuristic, as if witnessing an intimate dance or eavesdropping on a hushed, private conversation. Their music doesn't so much demand deep attention as inspire it.' - Doug Freeman, Austin Chronicle
"It’s not just the unusual instrumentation that makes Verrill and Johnston’s music stand out. Partly it’s Verrill’s voice, which carries her often melancholy melodies like an autumn breeze skimming over the serene waters of a remote swimming hole. And largely it’s what is NOT there: The arrangements are so purposefully sparse that the open space in their songs almost becomes an instrument unto itself." - Peter Blackstock, The Austin American Statesman
'Vocalist, banjoist and songwriter Lindsey Verrill and multi-instrumentalist Jeff Johnston have this uncanny way of capturing what feel like specific moments in time, made even richer and more intimate through Mazarn’s poetic observation.' -Laurie Gallardo, KUTX Austin
'What you think of Little Mazarn will depend, largely, on how you view loneliness, from the banjo echoing, a bell unanswered, to the plaintive singing or the spare accompaniment here and there. This is the music Sam Beam or Damien Jurado make when they’re sad-drunk and alone. -Swordfish