Billie Marten: “The best albums come from gathering a diverse group of people in a space and observing how they influence each other.”

"My time in New York sparked a greater sense of drive in me, compelling me to be brave and wonderfully unprepared. The city's rhythm and my life in Brooklyn established a pace within me that felt both unusual and satisfying." Creatively, your lyrics have consistently been personal and refreshingly honest. Did you ever have any doubts about giving up some creative control through collaboration? Were you concerned that the depth of feeling in your writing—your unique artistic essence—might be lessened or misunderstood? It was definitely a lesson in letting go. Phil [Weinrobe, producer] commands in that regard, pushing you to undertake tasks that you might initially perceive as a joke—like his statement, “I won’t hand over the album for six months after we finish”—but ultimately, you come to understand that it’s about embracing a new process that brings the music to life. I gained a lot from this experience and am grateful for it. I feel that my essence gained a stronger voice rather than being diminished; the band would never allow that. That said, the centerpiece of the album, ‘Leap Year,’ is your first non-autobiographical track. Where did that idea originate? Would you like to explore this style of writing further in the future? One afternoon, while stuck in bed and feeling unwell, I started playing around on my phone, and the idea came to me. There's an app called Ioptigan that I recommend to everyone; it’s loaded with old sample reels from every genre imaginable, and the sound for ‘Leap Year (puppy mix)’ is mostly the original voice memo I recorded. The sound falls under ‘Folk And Other Moods.’ I arranged some chords in a way I wouldn’t typically do on guitar, and surprisingly, a song emerged; it taught me to sometimes trust classical structures. Follow the song where it leads you. The central theme of ‘Dog Eared’ appears to revolve around duality and transition—existing between youth and age, navigating different life stages, and the uncertainty that can accompany such an ambiguous state. Do you think creating the album has helped you reconcile these existential concerns about the passage of time? Do you view the album as a dividing line, a distinction between your past and present self? I believe much of life involves feeling like you're in a transitional space. We face immense pressure to grow, evolve, and achieve year after year, which often causes us to overlook parts of our past that we've forgotten. This is why much of my writing reflects on formative childhood memories. A lot of my work also captures the sensation of being trapped in a gap—it's not necessarily a bad place, but it’s not particularly serene either. I have many questions about our identity, our purpose, how we relate to each other, and what constitutes our core self. Identity fascinates me, especially how it is constantly evolving. The imagery of a dividing line resonates well with me; it’s quite appropriate. As you anticipate an autumn filled with touring, is there anything specific you're looking forward to? What can audiences expect that's different or new in this upcoming series of performances? I'm eager to delve into the album, and since I’ll be performing with my live band—distinct from the studio band—the sounds will be somewhat different. The essence of the record will certainly remain, but it boils down to how to weave the entire repertoire into one seamless set. I’m enjoying the gradual transformation of the songs into one cohesive piece—where it’s heading, I’m not sure. I'm finding touring increasingly enjoyable, so it feels far less intimidating than it used to.