Album Review: Marlene

Lee Martin’s fourth studio album arrives with more personal and gripping stories from the gypsy country artist that is becoming a true staple name in the genre. Released 26 June 2026, Marlene is the most personal work she has put out yet, and that is saying something for an artist whose earlier records already felt like open journals. South African-born and long based in Ōtautahi Christchurch, Lee has always written with a storyteller’s eye. This time she steps fully into her birth name, Marlene, and the album becomes a chapter-by-chapter walk through the life that shaped her. It debuted at number 5 on the Official New Zealand Charts, a well-earned result for music that never shouts for attention yet holds it completely.

If you came to Lee through Dreamers Dawn (2024) or the warmer, more gypsy-tinged Gypsy Soul (2022), or even the earlier Lost Girl EP and the 2008 album I Know You’re Sleeping, you will recognise the voice instantly. What has changed is the depth of the reflection and the confidence of the arrangements. There is something in the warmth and honesty that sits comfortably alongside the softer side of Mel Parsons, the storytelling heart of Anika Moa, and the intimate soul of Marlon Williams, while still sounding completely like Lee. The production, Henare Kaa producing and on drums, Thom O’Connor engineering and mixing at Orange Studios, gives everything room to breathe while still sounding rich on big speakers or good headphones. A local band with Dru Sione on bass, keys and backing vocals, Phil Doublet on guitar, and lovely brass from Ben Lill, Sarah Hickman and Aaron Chandler keeps the country-soul heart beating without ever overpowering the stories.

The artwork matches the honesty of the songs. A collage of eyes stares back at you, each one holding tiny hidden images from Lee’s childhood and symbols tied to the tracks. Vinyl copies even come with a little magnifying glass so you can look deeper if you want. The same thoughtful visual care shows up on the singles Feel, Five Year Plan and I’d Change It All. They have clean, strong artwork full of hidden memories and visual emotion.

The album opens with the track that has already clocked over 10,000 Spotify plays. Clear, simple guitar sits under lyrics about the emotional exhaustion of loving someone deeply even when it no longer makes sense on I’d Change It All. It is reflective without being heavy, and the final line lands exactly right. We have all been there, and changing our ways is never as easy as we pretend. The last word is the strongest reflection of the fact that we are all human, and not always strong enough to change. The song feels like the emotional core of the whole record, which makes sense when you learn it is Lee’s personal favourite.

A true country three-step follows on Heaven and Hell, complete with clever, very pleasing brass that lets you relax while Lee questions everything she did and everything the world gave back. It is easy to hum along to, the kind of song that stays in the ears long after the album finishes.

The next single steps up the pace a little. Drums, guitar, and those same background brass make the sound bolder as Lee tackles the all-too-common conversation about five-year plans and the way addictions quietly hold them back. Five Year Plan is honest and gently playful; the sort of track that makes you nod in recognition.

Then we drop back into something more intimate. Warm guitar and that country melody carries a story about feelings we all know on Feel, the ones that ask whether anything is real, and when promises finally turn into real feelings. The official video brings it fully to life. If you have not watched it yet, do. Her YouTube and Instagram are often updated with beautiful visuals for the songs, and they reward a longer look.

Not every story on the album ends badly. The shortest track picks the pace up again and lets a small light in on Sky of Blue, complete with a clear nod to Lee’s South African roots and the journey that brought her here. Production shines again, everything sits perfectly whether you are listening on big speakers or quality headphones, this album just sits right on a decent pair of speakers.

In my view one of the strongest songs arrives next. The lyrics on Might As Well Dance are the kind you start humming almost immediately, and the feeling is universal: “we might as well dance while we are still breathing.” It is pure life-affirming country-soul with those horns doing exactly what they should. This is a song that deserves a place on your playlist, and I hope it gets a proper video or single treatment soon.

A song that will feel familiar to anyone who has followed her earlier albums sits comfortably in the middle of the record on Bittersweet. It has the same storytelling ease that put earlier work into the top ten and racked up tens of thousands of streams. If Marlene is your first meeting with Lee Martin, this is the track that will send you straight back through the whole discography.

There is a toast-like moment following on Boy That I Loved, a raise of the glass to past good times and the boy who was loved. It is warm, a little wistful, and lands exactly where it needs to.

The album closes with a carefully chosen cover. Lee takes Bernie Taupin and Elton John’s Nikita and makes it entirely her own, with gypsy-country intimacy, clear voice, and the quiet knowledge that this song carried her through her childhood nights. It is a perfect full-circle ending.

At just over 35 minutes, Marlene never overstays its welcome. It is the sound of an artist who has lived enough life to write without filters and who trusts a great band and great songs to do the rest. Live, these tracks should sound beautiful. The six-piece band she has been taking out on the album-release tour (starting 17 July, 2026 at The Piano in Christchurch, then Greymouth, Barrytown, Pohara and Auckland) is already getting strong word, and the intimate rooms will suit the honesty of the material perfectly. Keep an eye on her Instagram and YouTube for more clips. She has a way of making the songs feel even more personal when you see her perform them.

Marlene is a reckoning, a remembrance, and a release all at once. It is a beautifully soft-sounding album that slips easily into any playlist, even for listeners who normally stay away from this genre of music. The melodies are warm and natural, the stories stay with you long after the last note, and the whole record feels ready for radio airplay. With four albums now under her name, Lee is building something solid, and this one has already left me eager to hear what she will write next. The songs sit gently, the heart is honest, and there is that quiet NZ light running through every track. If you like your gypsy-country-soul with real heart, clear storytelling, and a sound that welcomes everyone in, put this one on. Then go find the earlier records. You will be glad you did.