“Put the hurt on me, gave you everything/ Never one to freeze and be wondering/ Several followers at the bottom of a rock-salted ledge/ Far from my Self.” These aren’t the words of a songwriter from Ohio; they’re lines from a scribe in a dusky, faraway land. Maryn Jones’ new project Yowler traverses both the epic and the personal, so far removed from this world that it feels like it’s always been a part of it. “7 Towers” feels fantastical, but she grounds it with intimately personal touches: the way her voice cracks at the end of every other line, her quiet but imposing strumming wrapping around her voice like a scratchy blanket. Jones’ forthcoming new collection of songs is a far cry from the work she’s doing with All Dogs or Saintseneca — if anything, they remind me of the timelessness of Mountain Man’s debut album, or maybe a nightingale chirping away in some deep wood telling all of its secrets to the trees. It’s a folk song from another age and time, one where a line such as “Now the Summer falls, loving water runs into dirtied streets of saddened offerings” feels like just another sign of impending doom. And despite all that, what comes through most strongly is Jones’ remarkable ability to distill complex, foreign emotions down to simple facts, turning what’s happening in another world into something that could happen to your neighbor, your friend, yourself. Listen below.