Marathon, the third studio album from Maria BC, introduces a precarious new element to their cryptic, psychedelic folk stylings: urgency. Up until this point, the Oakland singer-songwriter has primarily worked in ambient soundscapes, concept records and haunting, spectral suites, with 2023’s Spike Field rarely rising past the foreboding pump of a heartbeat. Marathon is easily their most varied, adventurous work yet, built upon frayed, weathered strands of BC’s artistic identity that have never had the chance to share the spotlight with each other until now. It’s the most wide-ranging vision of their obscured, ghostly folklore thus far.

The album opens with its title track, the most sonically raucous that Maria BC has ever put to record. Cacophonous waves of distorted guitar feedback crash over one another, threatening to swallow BC’s soaring soprano with every passing second. On a more narrative-driven Maria BC album than this one, each following track would cascade into another – but instead, the storm breaks. “As the earth turns” is much closer to their home base: a quiet, earthy folk musing with a silent sense of unrest seeping deeply into its blurry acoustics. While tracks like “Peacemaking” and the spellbinding “Night and day” lean closer into the serene heartfulness of rootsy americana, Marathon sees BC embrace more electronic flourishes and embellishments than ever before – the stuttering, chiming percussion of “Rare”, the slow, industrial creep of “The sound” and the whirring static that lies beneath “Miami” feel like the natural evolution of BC’s acoustic psychedelia into something more modern yet even more alien.

During Marathon’s best moments, it’s difficult for me not to visualize nimble movements of choreography. “Sabotage”, a standout on repeated listens, accompanies BC’s disarming vocals with nothing but a saccharine guitar riff and the crushing weight of room ambiance. As its melody drifts in and out of frame, I can’t help but imagine that it’s soundtracking a graceful dancer in pointe shoes. She stretches her heels towards the sky and then releases them back towards the floor, lifting and crashing back down time and time again. Although their work has always felt uniquely tactile amongst their peers, moments like these feel visceral in a way that renders you closer to the heart of Marathon’s fable.

Prior to Marathon, it was easiest to describe BC’s work in large, sweeping statements. Their brushstrokes were heavy, painting throughlines between tracks that made each movement crucial to understand the last. Marathon’s biggest leap of faith is the decision to largely ditch the abstractness of it all, applying their undying merit towards a striking project that ends up feeling like their definitive songbook. Other Maria BC projects feel like they could have been dug up from the earth, existing for decades untouched by any human palms. Marathon is their first that unfolds before you, being performed in real time for faithful sets of eyes.

Pre-order Marathon by Maria BC here