You know, music has an unusual talent. It’s not often you come across an artist who doesn’t try to escape reality by hiding behind flashy words or trendy sound effects, but instead does the exact opposite — takes a step towards themselves. Marlene Oak releases her new EP ‘Big Time’, and honestly, there’s much more here than you’d usually expect from a four-track record.

But first, let’s talk about Marlene. Before this release, she already had a certain group of listeners ready to hear her stories, agree with them, nod along, and maybe even feel a little lighter. Now, Marlene Oak steps forward with material so sincere that it almost feels uncomfortable, realizing how deeply she had to dig within herself to reach these emotions.

photo by Joanné Nugas

‘Big Time’ is a complex story, an EP written by someone who has been through psychosis. It’s a heavy word, a heavy diagnosis, and frankly, a frightening experience. They say that during psychosis, the line between reality and fiction blurs so much that the world stops feeling familiar, logical, or understandable. One can only imagine what Marlene went through, though even that is likely just the tip of the iceberg. These four songs became something like medicine, a lifeline to hold onto when a storm of illusions and fear rages around.

Marlene Oak herself carries a rare strength that makes listeners empathize, feel, and connect. Her songs avoid cloying banality or empty bravado. Sometimes you listen to a song and realize — the artist is trying to convey something personal and important, but somewhere along the way, they lose their sincerity, covering it up with grandeur. With Marlene Oak, it’s the opposite. In ‘Big Time’, the sincerity is absolute. So absolute that while listening, you start to wonder: is it even possible to be this vulnerable, this open? What is it like to bare your soul and show exactly what broke you — and what managed to put you back together?

The EP opens with ‘Big Time’ — a track that immediately sets the tone for the entire record: soft, rich folk-pop with a distinctly cinematic approach to melody and atmosphere. Everything here breathes honesty. The harmonies are warm and airy, the structure unfolds organically, and Marlene Oak’s vocals carry the emotion without resorting to soaring into high octaves. It’s a track where minimalism hits hard.

Next comes ‘Red Clouds’. This song leans towards a live-recording feel, with intimate-sounding keys and Marlene’s hyper-personal vocals. This track doesn’t so much tell a story as create a space: slow, filled with air, allowing the listener to be alone with their thoughts. And yet, there’s no detachment — it’s more of a compass than a diary, with Marlene’s voice serving as a guide through confusion. Probably the most delicate and honest work on the release.

Third is ‘Burning Flame’ — a track that takes recognizable indie-folk and moves it toward invigorating indie-rock without losing its lyricism. Here, rhythm appears, a soft electronic texture weaves in, and the vocals are slightly processed, though still organic. This track leaves room for participation: you can sing along, move to the rhythm, or simply listen — and all of it fits naturally.

photo by makrina

The EP closes with ‘Until Morning Comes’, co-written with Andreas Mattsson (Popsicle). It’s a closing track, and it sounds exactly the way the ending of an intimate story should sound: chamber-like, simple, and all the more piercing because of it. Acoustic guitar, vocals without unnecessary embellishments — and Marlene allows herself to finally say out loud what she had kept inside. This is a track where not a single detail feels out of place. And precisely because of that, it cuts even deeper.

I won’t lie — I sat in silence for several minutes after the final chord of ‘Until Morning Comes’ faded into the air. Sometimes a record ends and you immediately put something else on, sometimes you just move on with your day. But there are moments when you sit still and listen to yourself, because something inside has shifted. Marlene Oak created exactly that kind of work. She gave four songs, but left behind far more than that in terms of feeling.

‘Big Time’ turned out to be, let’s say, not exactly about music in the usual sense for me. It’s more about how far a person can go in honesty when there’s no other way, when there’s only movement towards the inner world, an almost physical need to call things by their real names without dressing them up in fancy metaphors. And that’s where the deepest respect for the listener lies, because Marlene doesn’t keep her distance.

I caught myself not wanting to break this EP down into parts — where the bass comes in, how the transitions are built, what harmonies are chosen. All of that is there, all of it works, but the point is elsewhere. The point is that through four short tracks, Marlene Oak gave me a foothold, a chance to take a closer look at my own fears and hopes. And it’s not even about the psychosis she experienced — it’s about the fact that she didn’t hide her experience behind allegories, but kept it alive, direct, and real. Maybe because in our world it’s common to avoid such conversations, to hide behind irony, sarcasm, and a million excuses. But here, none of that exists. Just a voice saying clearly: “I’m here, I’m alive, and I’ll tell you what it means”.

*This review was made possible by SubmitHub