The wayfaring ways of Billie Marten

From the comfort of our own home, I ask the veteran songwriter in what ways her latest paragon, Dog Eared, represents its namesake – to dog-ear a page, to save its place while also wearing it down. “A lot of this album talks about age, identity, and how each individual sort of aligns with that themselves. Sometimes I feel incredibly tired, worn, and sort of used. I think sometimes the industry provides a bit of that feeling,” Marten explains.

She has seen in the ins and outs of many a production process, noting that while she’s not complaining about being able to work with something she loves, it can be a slog like any part of life. “Other times, I feel incredibly fresh, rejuvenated, curious, and sort of child-like. These [are] two complete opposites of me that I’m trying to discuss in the album.”

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Taking inspiration from her love of literature and the outdoors, Marten’s music is tranquil and profound. The album kicks off with “Feeling”, a playful track that feels like touching grass. Lyrics “sweep the leaves, and cut the air,” setting the scene of a wistful time in nature, recounting pensive moments, and settling into a sense of nostalgia. For Marten, nostalgia is “like a golden orb of the past.” Growing up in the Dales of Yorkshire, England, she carries that bucolic quietude with her. “I think nature is the ultimate writing tool. For any human emotion, for any character, for any mood – you can attach that to a part of nature.”

To some, nostalgia is simply melancholic reverence for the past. With much of Marten’s youth a blur – releasing her first EP at age 14 and climbing into fame soon after – she found herself on a balance beam between her music career and education, lost in the cracks of what some might call a “normal” childhood. “I’m very connected to my childhood self. I think if I’m going to psychoanalyse myself to you now, it’s because I did lose a lot of my late-childhood to early-adulthood,” Billie reflects. “I’m realizing now that that’s a part of myself that needs to continue.”

Carrying herself forward is a celebration. In this way, Dog Eared stands as a means of holding onto the beautiful sides of life with a strong sentimentality and yearning. “I love lovely feelings,” she goes on. Her music lives in a state of “longing and timelessness – which ultimately means nostalgia.”

Marten’s music does feel timeless. Like a loved paperback in a used bookstore, the sound has a persona all its own, carrying the weight of memories and beloved moments. Some of these lovely feelings come out in “Clover” with charming strings and wistful lyrics: “I talk to trees ‘cause they’re staring at me,” while other tracks like “Crown” seem to be about moving forward, harbouring a bit of a darker tone. Marten’s lilting voice brings a peacefulness to the track, albeit with more ominous and abstract lyrics: “She drinks my blood and I wear her crown.” Her sound is sweet, if not a tinge sombre. A masterfully vivid painting, it’s impossible not to feel the “dust in the breeze” (“No Sudden Changes”) or the rustle of the trees in Marten’s work.

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Dog Eared came together rather uniquely. Marten and her team worked collaboratively, compiling tracks at Sugar Mountain, producer Phil Weinrobe’s Brooklyn-based studio. Weinrobe “doesn’t waste a single moment,” Marten notes. “There’s no hemming and hawing. He just sort of takes the reins, and I learned to relinquish a lot of control.” The songs were recorded completely live, giving them a noteworthy quality unlike any of Marten’s earlier work.

Paired with a dynamic team of musicians, Marten brought a modest pile of songs for the 10-track album. They worked efficiently, with “Leap Year” down in one take. While some of the others took a little more time, Marten admitted that she aims to get everything down in five takes or fewer. “‘Palettes’ took a bit more because everybody’s playing 16th rhythm, it’s quite exhausting for the hands,” she smiles. Her admiration for the team is clear. In a new city, recording in an entirely new way, Marten recounts her awe as being “lots of me just staring in a room full of very talented musicians going, ‘Wow, that’s cool. Cool what you just did there.’”

Marten, herself, loves to explore. Unabashed, charming, and lively, she is ever-present and in touch with those around her. In her travels, she makes a point to ride horses in as many cities as possible while on the road. “Riding a horse with a local there with you, you learn so much,” she says. “It’s also good exercise.” Alongside her equine escapades, Marten also stops into local bookshops, featuring photos inside and outside the shop on her Instagram. “It’s a really great way to instantly see what the city’s about,” she clarifies. “What is their taste? What is the reader’s recommended section? What’s the colour palette of the bookshop? What’s the size of it? You can find out how many people are reading in Austin, Texas.”

Catching up with the locals is decidedly part of her style. Marten’s melodically mesmerizing song “Planets” was written on a tour while in Tulsa, Oklahoma, as an homage to a bar the band found on Route 66 called DD’s Double Shots. “We went there four times in one week – we were obsessed,” Marten says sentimentally. “There was karaoke and lots of sad men who wanted to talk about their feelings whilst holding guns and drinking their Coors Lite, you know. They were doing the most emotional karaoke of an old country song and completely crying – so tender.” In recounting stumbling home and staring at the bleary southern stars, the track’s swaying refrain and unexpected vocal twists serve as a touching monument to a moment in time.

Ultimately, Dog Eared is a freeze frame. Both in production process and in style, Marten’s latest series of sounds are bold and brave, touching on memory, childhood, and pains of the heart. With each step she takes, Marten pulls us closer to the sun – and we are eagerly awaiting what’s shining around the corner.