Billie Marten – Dog Eared Review

At a time when every artist promises to offer a genuine piece of themselves, yet very few do, finding an earnest performer is tough. Once found, though, you can guarantee their music will improve with the times, rather than against them. In the two years since Billie Marten’s previous release, the world has gotten that much bleaker. Escapism meets frank commentaries on the world, on our relationship with abstract feelings and the consequences of them, throughout Dog Eared. We are battered and worn like the well-read pages Marten references in the title of this fifth studio album. This is not an attempt by Marten to better us, to coddle listeners in times of crisis. Not at all. Dog Eared is an assessment of the self, songs for the insular to take in, listen well to, and break from their shell. A still strong voice, a gentle acoustic flow. What sets Marten apart is what appeared on her previous album. Sincerity. 

You can hear the Stateside influences from the recording. There is a fuller sound to Marten, a slight change from the acoustic, bedroom folk-like appeal of Drop Cherries. We all have to shake off our hometown at some point, and Marten makes a strong go of it on Dog Eared. Opener Feeling is a neat documentation of that move, into the deep she goes, and we with her. Where Crown is more of an atmosphere builder than a lead song, follow-up Clover builds on that delicate momentum. Stripped-back, acoustic endeavours which also find the time to incorporate strings, lush depths and slightly off-kilter tones. These changes are a charming display of life from Marten, whose dedication to finding new sounds in familiar territory is a sincere delight. Dog Eared has plenty of life in it not because Marten provides a comfortable sound, but because the instrumental overhaul is subtle, yet changed. An overlap with Sam Amidon, another phenomenal folk-adjacent performer, can be heard on Dog Eared.  

Cooler grooves are adopted for the likes of No Sudden Changes, a song tinged in irony given the instrumental shift. But it also notes the need to keep evolving, to constantly change with the times. These changes are not because of the world around us, but because of what we experience in engaging with it. The books we read, the music we play, all those little life experiences come together, an overlap which gives Marten a new perspective. When put to song, it provides a soft adaptation of contemporary folk at its very best, an Americanised twang now in the mix and displaying new understandings of these traditional-like tracks. Soft-spoken interpretations of life and the world around us, what each relationship may mean to an individual, are nothing new. But Marten finds a new route through those familiar trails. It is what separates the likes of Glass and Leap Year from the rest of the folk stock.  

Instrumental bliss is hit on with Leap Year, and the highs continue for Dog Eared from there. It continues on the delicate but empowered Goodnight Moon, and into the grooves of a fantastic vocal performance on You and I Both. Marten finds much to be proud of on Dog Eared, an album which highlights the singer-songwriter turn she is taking, not away from folk, but in adapting the genre. There is a larger instrumental presence, the percussion on You and I Both, for instance, soft yet certain of its place. Plenty of moments on Dog Eared are like that, and it makes for a wonderful new album from Marten. Tremendous album closer Swing and its whale-based storytelling is one of many signs Marten has the storytelling thrill needed to carry moments of honest contemplation. It can be heard across Dog Eared.