Maria Kelly’s sophomore album Waiting Room is a journey through uncertainty, anger, self-reflection, and quiet resilience. Following up on 2021’s The Sum of the In-Between, this album takes a bolder approach, blending her signature indie-folk sound with layers of dreamy, distorted textures and heavier indie-rock elements. Through 11 tracks, Maria crafts a deeply personal yet widely relatable narrative—one that captures the frustration of feeling stuck, the ache of nostalgia, and the search for some kind of resolution.
The album begins with Like a Wave, a track that mirrors its title with soft, swirling instrumentals that ebb and flow like the tide. There’s a gentle intro, it layers dreamy vocals over oceanic white noise and steady guitar, before a little heavier guitar presence swells in. It sets the tone for the album’s themes of change and uncertainty.
The title track Waiting Room immediately follows, reinforcing this feeling of being stuck. With a steady, hypnotic beat (built around the unsettling beeping of a hospital monitor) which is very clever and very well done, Maria paints a picture of waiting—physically and emotionally. The lyrics suggest a battle with time: “I wait to hear my name / I wait to feel okay.” It’s catchy but haunting, a strong encapsulation of the album’s core theme.
If Waiting Room is a slow-burning reflection, Drive is where Maria’s voice truly shines. A stunning, raw, and deeply affecting song, it’s a plea for closure wrapped in one of the most beautiful vocal performances on this album or any album I’ve heard in quite a while. Lyrically, it captures the pull of unresolved feelings and the impulsive desire to fix the past—until Maria flips the narrative in the final verse: “I’m not gonna die tomorrow / And I don’t drive / And I’m still alive.” It’s my personal favorite, and easily one of her strongest songs to date.
On the other end of the spectrum is When I’m Angry, a track that sees Maria embracing a fury she’s previously held back. With its simple but devastating hook—“When I’m angry I just get sad”—it’s an emotional gut-punch. The vulnerability in her vocals, combined with a melancholic melody, makes it feel destined to be a fan favorite. It’s one of those songs that just hits.
Maria doesn’t just explore personal struggles—she also weaves in social commentary with a deeply personal touch. Something Better feels like a confessional of self-doubt and unrealistic expectations, its steady build reflecting the internal pressure to be more.
Nearly Thirty takes this even further, touching on the anxieties of approaching a milestone age while feeling stuck. The lyrics about houseplants dying on the windowsill and waiting for “the perfect timing” hit hard, there’s that feeling of looking for the right moment but also dealing with the fact that life doesn’t stop for you to find it. There’s a quiet desperation in the song that feels incredibly real.
His Parents’ House takes a slightly more upbeat approach, both in its instrumentation and its delivery. It’s a bittersweet anthem about the realities of young adulthood in a broken system—moving back in with family, trying to make it work, but feeling the weight of lost independence.
The final stretch of the album is where Maria truly opens up. Rearview Mirror is a sorrowful, slow-burning reflection on fading friendships, with mournful strings underscoring its aching lyrics. It captures that post-holiday nostalgia—when you realize that no matter how much you want to hold onto the past, people change.
Coming to Kill takes a different approach, tackling the creeping fear of wasted time. The stripped-back opening lets Maria’s vocals take center stage before a steady drumbeat kicks in, reinforcing the theme of time catching up with her. It’s one of the album’s most atmospheric tracks, and one that could easily work in a fully stripped-back acoustic version as well.
Then, finally, we arrive at Appointments. A striking closer, it’s a moment of catharsis where Maria fully lets go. The lyrics reflect years of people-pleasing and self-doubt, but by the end, her voice is no longer whisper-soft—it’s raw, unfiltered, and powerful. With Waiting Room, Maria Kelly has created an album that feels like both a personal reckoning and a universal experience. It’s about the systems that fail us, the expectations we place on ourselves, and the emotions we suppress until they finally break free. Sonically, it pushes her sound beyond the folk roots of her debut, blending dreamy atmospheres with indie rock textures in a way that feels expansive.
This is a great listen and deserves a great 8.5 out of 10
Reviewer – Alan Robinson @alan_robinson_photography