Marta on softness, emotional exhaustion and choosing honesty over expectation

Latvian indie-pop artist Marta returns with A Little Blue, a quietly powerful new single that leans into stillness, softness and emotional truth. Out January 30th, the song captures a rare kind of vulnerability in pop music — not heartbreak at its peak, but the gentle exhaustion that comes from trying, caring and continuing anyway. Accompanied by a stark, intimate video filmed in the Alps and arriving alongside the announcement of her upcoming album Wrong Woman (According to the Rule Book), Marta opens up about tiredness, self-acceptance and what it means to choose a life — and an artistic path — that might look “wrong” to everyone else.

“A Little Blue” feels very quiet and accepting rather than dramatic — was there a specific moment or emotional shift that made you realise this song needed to be written that way?

Some songs feel like they need to be written, and some arrive on their own — all you have to do is listen and write them down. It’s a surreal experience and hard to explain, but A Little Blue was one of those rare songs that just poured out of me. I didn’t analyse it or try to shape it into anything bigger than it was. I think that’s where the intimacy and quiet acceptance come from. It arrived at a moment when I was feeling very low, emotionally exhausted, and tired of trying to prove something — to myself and to the world.

You’ve described the song as being about emotional exhaustion and allowing yourself to be human. Do you feel like pop music leaves enough space for tiredness and softness, or was this your way of creating that space for yourself?

I think pop music is getting better at holding vulnerability, but it still often gravitates toward extremes. There’s less room for quiet tiredness — for those moments where you’re not falling apart, you’re just worn down. Writing A Little Blue was my way of creating that space for myself, without needing to justify it or turn it into a big emotional statement. I wanted to allow softness, stillness, and the kind of honesty that doesn’t demand resolution, just permission to feel. And I always believe that if I’m feeling something, there’s bound to be someone else feeling it too.

The video shows you alone at a piano in the Alps, surrounded by snow. How did that environment shape the performance emotionally, and did the physical isolation mirror where you were mentally at the time?

Just like the song appeared out of nowhere, the visual came to me in the same way. I had a very clear vision of myself alone with a piano in the mountains, and I couldn’t quite explain why I needed it — I just knew that I did. Being there felt like a dream come true; it was deeply emotional. The cold, the snow, the silence — there was nowhere to hide, physically or emotionally. I didn’t need to overperform or “act” the song; I just had to exist inside it. Sitting alone at the piano felt less like filming a video and more like sitting with myself, which is exactly what the song asks for. There isn’t much happening in the video — it’s all about the emotion and the scenery.

Your upcoming album Wrong Woman (According to the Rule Book) brings together earlier chapters alongside new songs. Looking back now, how has your relationship with the idea of being the “wrong woman” evolved through this project?

I love this question, because my relationship with the idea of being the “wrong woman” indeed has shifted. The more I do this, the more I want it. This whole transition (moving from releasing music in Latvian to English, from local to international) can definitely seem “wrong” to a lot of people. I know some are thinking: Why is she doing this? She’s in her thirties, a mother of two, why can’t she just calm down and accept where she is? But the truth is, I can’t. And I don’t want to. I don’t care how “wrong” my choices might look, because they’re truthful to who I am, and to the music I make.

You’ve built a strong following while staying fully independent and releasing music in English more recently. What has that transition taught you about vulnerability — both in your songwriting and in how you connect with listeners?

I’ve always been super emotional and vulnerable, but this is what I’ve learned: everyone always says, just be who you are, but funnily enough, it’s not actually that easy. Over the last couple of years, I’ve been shedding unnecessary layers and getting closer and closer to my core. I used to care so much about people-pleasing and being liked. Proud to say I don’t want to be liked by everyone anymore. I want to be the most honest version of myself for those who actually care about what I have to say, who want to hear my music. I feel so much more confident now. I’m not afraid to say the words my fans. I used to think that sounded full of myself, like, who does she think she is? I’d be terrified if someone thought that. Now, I’m definitely more of a let them kind of girl.