Still only 26, Billie Marten finds herself a relative veteran despite her youth. Now on her fifth album, she has followed fellow folk heroine Laura Marling on a journey from prodigiously gifted teenager to assured songwriting talent and a beacon of her genre. She returned to Rescue Rooms in support of that new LP, the excellent Dog Eared, at the tail-end of a winding European tour and ahead of a jaunt to North America and beyond...
Ahead of Billie's set, Le Ren – the stage name of Lauren Spear – is damn near the ideal support act. Armed with a wonderful old Gibson acoustic, the Canadian plays with grace and a kind of insightful observation of the world that most songwriters would crave, winning over the crowd with gently plucked folk and country songs.
These tracks have clearly been crafted with great care and over a long period of time. They examine beautifully her relationship to the world and to the people who make up hers. This is demonstrated in the starkly lovely paean Dyan, written for her mother. Le Ren’s songwriting finds the magical balance between being incisive but never blunt, heartfelt but never simplistic. These are songs to be mulled over and which will find undoubtedly loving homes in the hearts of listeners long into the future. She is the kind of discovery that makes arriving early to gigs worth it.
Bang on time, Billie Marten takes the stage to a roar of approval and anticipation, wearing a grin that will last all evening. Jumping straight into Feeling, the melodically lovely opening song of the new album, she scoops the audience up in her hands and promises not to let go.
Understated is the word that comes to mind across her performance. Each song is performed deftly, infused with a quiet yet powerful undercurrent of emotional force that sweeps you swiftly along. There are flourishes though, in the walking basslines of Tommy Heap or the drum fills of Casper Miles. They don’t break the boundaries of the soundscapes, but reward a keen ear with moments of interest.
The songs do perhaps lose some of the dynamism they hold on the record, but that’s a testament to the smartly layered production of the album rather than a criticism of the playing here. The vital aspects are kept and the vast majority of the songs work well played by a trio.
Marten herself is completely charming, particularly between songs. She fills the interstitial time between songs with easy patter and good humour: ‘This is the room I think I’ve played most in the world,’ she says at one point. ‘I played here 11 years ago and here I am again... That’s progress!’ Yet you feel as though this is the kind of gig she adores playing.
At one point she invites the crowd to sway along, gently chiding the ‘manic giggler’, of which there is apparently always one at every show. A large part of the charm of gigs can be found in the spaces between songs and as with Le Ren, Billie Marten is a pro when it comes to chatter.
As an aside, a lot has been said about how audiences have become uncouth since the pandemic. Phones are everywhere, obscuring views. Conversation is a constant din, making the sufferers nearby wonder why they spent so much money on tickets in the first place. Not tonight. Happily, the crowd are extremely well-behaved; quiet between songs, appreciating them with reverence. It was clear from the long queues that Billie Marten commands a devoted fanbase, and that really comes across in the heartening etiquette on display.
The set moves on, serenely floating along on the strength of the writing and played to an audience with whom Dog Eared has clearly connected. The majority of that album gets aired tonight, with Toulouse and Goodnight Moon standing out as gems in the mid-set.
Le Ren returns toward the end of the set to provide her vocals to a couple of songs, with You and I Both being a high point in the evening. The additional depth of the backing vocal lends more heft to the feeling of the song, the laid-back mood lulling the audience into reverie.
The encore begins with Marten alone onstage again, this time singing her ‘favourite song ever’, John Martyn’s Couldn’t Love You More. It’s a sparkling rendition of a timeless work, the lyrics as potent now as they were in 1977. Marten’s voice is delicate, adding clarity to the power of lyrics laced with longing.
Swing closes, aided by the audience who are split into (non-competitive) teams. Happily, they didn’t need my help and harmonised beautifully with the closer of Dog Eared and of the evening. It was a lovely moment to usher everyone back out into the evening, but still under the spell of a talented songwriter and charismatic performer. Let’s hope she returns to Rescue Rooms again and again.
Billie Marten performed at Rescue Rooms on 10th November 2025, with support from Le Ren
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