I’m sitting across the table from my idol, Mary Prankster, at Karen’s, one of the few independent coffeehouses in Manhattan’s East Village. It is an experience I can only describe as surreal. We’re chatting over coffee on an unusually balmy, early November afternoon—just two old girlfriends on the brink of exiting their 20s. Mary’s just coming off the flu and doesn’t feel like having her picture taken, but she manages to look quite lovely and at ease in her black dress and brown-fringed suede jacket. It isn’t surprising that, between sips of her iced redeye sweetened with two Equals and soy milk, she gives me advice on marketing myself as a musician; after all, she did it all herself—from writing the music to sending out press kits. What is surprising is that she’s as interested in my occupation as I am in hers, listening intently as I give her advice on being a writer. Yes, a writer.

At first, I’m not sure what to make of it. Mary Prankster wants to write? Is this the same rock star Mary whose Blue Skies Over Dundalk I listened to over and over again until my boyfriend threatened to leave me? Is this the same Mary whose pissed-off “Mercyfuck” got me out of my post-college funk? Is this the same Mary I followed to shows in D.C. and Baltimore—and even Laurel, MD!—just to get a fix?

Apparently so. After 10 years of playing festivals, dive bars in the boondocks and even her hometown of Annapolis (where she was once banned), the chanteuse of twangy punk and antifolk is hanging up her axe for new adventures. Her Thanksgiving gigs—in Vienna, New York and Baltimore—were her “retirement” shows, so she says. Now, the performer known as Mary Prankster is no more.

“It’s time,” she says, pausing to think of the right words to explain her decision. “The story of Mary Prankster has a very satisfying narrative arc. So I’m retiring the character. And artistically, I think I’ve taken her as far as I can.”

But before you start freaking out (hey, I did!) don’t lose hope just yet. Miss Mary Prankster hasn’t really abandoned creative life—or even songwriting.

_{From Black List To Play List}
There is hardly a musician from Baltimore to D.C. who hasn’t heard of Mary Prankster. She’s the envy of every mid-Atlantic guitar chick, and the love object of countless suburban high-school boys. Since launching her Web site in 1999, when she had a full band, more than a dozen Web pages devoted to her have sprouted up—all filled with stories, photos and even shrines with bouncing images of past band members. Mary is so big here that it’s hard to remember the last time she didn’t draw near-capacity crowds to Fletcher’s in Baltimore or the 9:30 Club. She far exceeded her wildest dreams and long-term goals.

“My idea of ultimate success was, I thought that I could play the 9:30 Club, the Black Cat and the 8x10, then that would mean I had truly made it,” she recalls. “I remember being in high school, and driving around and hearing the names of local bands on the radio, and I was like, ‘Wow, these guys are famous rock stars!’"

Though she’s written songs since the onset of puberty, she got her official start sometime around 1995 with a four-song EP, Mata Hari, which included “Rational Bohemian,” “Punk Rock Heaven,” “Mercyfuck” and the title track. But her then-booking agent could only get her gigs in obscure places. Because of the nature of her lyrics, bigger venues—and every single performance space in Annapolis—gave her the cold shoulder.

“Back then, a girl with an acoustic guitar and a salty tongue could get bounced from an entire city,” Mary recalls.

Then suddenly, around 1998, Lou Brutus, former a.m. disc jockey on now defunct 99.1 WHFS, heard her album and loved it. He started playing bits and pieces of Dundalk tunes on his show (which meant a ton of bleeps when he aired “Tits and Whisky”) and got her a gig opening for the radio station’s holiday “Nutcracker” show in 1998. She only played three songs, but emerged with a considerable fan base.

_{From Baltimore to the Big Apple: Solo to Threesome and Back Again}
Joined by a drummer known as Phil Tang and bassist Jon E. Cakes, Mary turned her solo shtick into a three-piece rock-and-roll band. Over the next two years, her 20-minute, 10-song disk Blue Skies Over Dundalk (recorded with two other musicians prior to teaming up with Jon and Phil) started selling like crazy at shows. The threesome followed up with Roulette Girl in 2000 and held an elaborate CD release party, complete with free Roulette chips and Mary dressed in a sexy '40s burlesque-era, fishnet-and-hotpants getup. Soon, she would go on to win a Washington Area Music Award (WAMMIE) for “Best Female Vocalist,” and begin touring up and down the East Coast. In 2002, Mary and the boys released Tell Your Friends—musically and lyrically a dramatic departure from the Dead Milkmen-esque punk sound of her first record.

While on tour later that year, however, growing tension amongst the band members culminated with Phil and Jon walking away, forcing Mary to scramble for fill-in musicians (neither Phil nor Jon could be reached for their side of the story). Bassist Andy Mabe and drummer Terry Klawth finished the fall tour and did several dates in the spring. Their final show, performed at the 9:30 Club, became Mary Prankster's fourth album, Lemonade: Live, released in 2004.

Shortly after, Mary decided it was time to relocate closer to her boyfriend in The Big Apple. So she took her guitar and bid adieu to Baltimore. With Mabe and Klawth tied up performing in North Carolina, she resumed her solo career, leaving her legions of local fans sad, but understanding.

“Of course I hate the thought of [Mary Prankster’s retirement] because I’d like to go on seeing Mary Prankster concerts for the rest of my life,” says a man who calls himself Flash Gordon, a 39-year-old fan from Fort Loudon, PA, and webmaster of a Mary Prankster fan page. “But she’s a human being. If she has other things she wants to do, I’m cool with that.”

_{What’s Next for Ms. Prankster}
At the moment, the only definite career plan Mary has is a return to writing—starting with a memoir of the last ten years. It’s no surprise to those who know her well; before she sang about the woes of student loans and bastard boyfriends, Mary wrote record reviews.

“The past ten years have generated endless anecdotes that are, like, hilarious and harrowing,” says Mary of her potential source material. “It was a wonderful way to spend my 20s. I got to see the country, have adventures and play Rock 'n’ Roll. I got to make albums, play shows.”
The Mary Prankster of today is much more settled than the raucous musician who shocked her way onto center stage nearly a decade ago. She and her boyfriend of five years, also a music type, recently purchased a “human-size” apartment in Harlem. But who knows? Mary might be back onstage sooner than we think. There’s certainly demand from her fans (just visit www.myspace.com/maryprankster to read the dozens of comments from fans lamenting her retirement).

For those already pining for her return, the good news is that she’s still writing songs—though the ones she’s been writing lately are a definite departure from the "Tits and Whiskey”-era sound.

“The other things I’ve written just wouldn’t seem to fit that [Mary Prankster persona],” she explains. “So, rather than try to stretch an already incredibly indulgent fan base even further, I thought, this is a nice time to come full circle.”