Goodnight Moon and Goodnight Dog Eared Tour – Billie Marten gently puts her European and UK tour to rest

And so, the Dog Ear UK Tour has come to an end. With a beautiful closing concert at the O2 Forum Kentish Town (London), it’s time for Billie to head off to the States and take on North America. Though it is sad to see her go, Marten’s gentle nature makes the conclusion feel less like a devastating end and more like a tender goodbye. With her songs that resemble the lullabies you heard as a child, it is almost as if she is putting her tour to sleep, softly tucking it in, kissing its forehead, and turning out the light. She leaves us waiting for morning, waiting for her to grace the stage once more.

I had the honour and great privilege of witnessing the penultimate concert of her tour at Leeds’ Irish Centre. An intimate venue, with soft lighting, carpeted floors, a decently sized dance floor, and not one, but two bars (I mean it is the Irish centre, after all). The venue had a dreamy quality to it, almost resembling a smaller version of the ballroom in The Shining, or what I imagine the lobby of the so-called ‘Hotel California’ that The Eagles sing about looks like. This dreamy, mystical atmosphere was more than appropriate for a Billie Marten concert, which is probably why it was chosen.

The concert started with Billie’s accompanying act, Le Ren, a Canadian folk musician who has been performing with her throughout the Europe and UK tour. Never have the words ‘a match made in heaven’ rung so true as with this pair. Le Ren is an incredible artist; Her talented songwriting and beautiful guitar playing are outshone only by her singing ability. Every song is a journey, a story, an experience; characterised by her brief breaks where she talks about how ‘Waverly’ is the street her and her boyfriend live on, how ‘Don’t be funny without me’ recalled a long-gone ex but is now about Billie and her friends on tour, or how ‘Dyan’ is about her mother. She makes you miss her even if you’ve only just heard of her, performing with her heart in her hands and offering it out to you as she plays. When the songs are over, and she puts it away, all you can do is hope you’ll see it again someday. I will definitely attend another one of her concerts and try my luck.

Billie Marten gave the audience an appropriate half hour to recover from Le Ren (the emotion had clearly taken it out of us). Once we had all dried our tears and composed ourselves, she appeared to destroy us all over again. Graceful, peaceful, and refreshing are all words I would use to describe her as an artist, but there was something she said on stage that night that perfectly encapsulated her music. At one point in the concert, she suggested we dance—not by jumping up and down (that would never be possible to songs like ‘This is How We Move’ or ‘Crown’), but by swaying from side to side “like a gentle breeze.” I remember writing that down the moment I heard it. That’s what she sounded like. Every song, every riff, every composition, resembled a gentle breeze. Sometimes soft, like in ‘Feeling’ or ‘Mice’, which feel like the light wind that blows through a barley field. Sometimes slightly stronger and brisker, like in ‘Willow’ and ‘I Can’t Get My Head Around You’, which feel like a powerful gust hitting your face as you run. Her music invites you to close your eyes and let her take you somewhere. Somewhere peaceful. Somewhere where this breeze can rock you side to side and you can rest your head.

From the faces in the crowd at the Irish Centre (glazed eyes, dumbfounded smiles, red cheeks), I could tell I was right. We had all been transported to this place. We had all, for what felt like a brief two hours, let ourselves rest for a bit. In a time where everything is fast, demanding, and overwhelming, I implore you to accept Billie’s invitation, as we did. Let her take you to a peaceful place — Let her sing you a lullaby. One that feels like lying in a barley field on a summer’s day. If you do, you may find me there, napping amongst the shoots and stems. Probably listening to ‘Goodnight Moon’.

Words By Alex Barreira Purcell