With a voice like a lightning bolt and a heart full of queer longing, MARIS is reshaping pop one euphoric anthem at a time. Atwood Magazine sat down with the rising star to talk her single “Give Me a Sign,” sapphic yearning, and the joy of being too much.

“Give Me a Sign (ft. Caroline Kingsbury)” – MARIS 

Sometimes you know when you have stumbled into a once in a lifetime moment.

Although the stage was bare save for a singer and a drummer, the crowd remained fixated, belting out every line in time with the opener. It is clear that MARIS (née Maris Ward) was born for the stage, dancing about with a commanding, flamboyant energy – zipped head to toe in the camp equivalent of a NASA flight suit and a star stamped on her face like a Gen Z David Bowie.

The crowd may be assembled for Maude Latour’s own glittering presence (we are big fans ourselves), but this performance feels like the first ember of a roaring fire. Soon, it seems, she will be on the tip of every pop girlie’s tongue and rocking the largest font on all festival posters.

Sapphic pop is having a moment.

So prevalent are the queer love songs and odes to the lesbian art of “yearning,” that one may think every woman grabbing a guitar, leaping across a stage, and laying her voice on a track is doing so in search of a historical good friend. To be honest, this moment was much needed.Young people growing up in single gas station towns, sharing their classes with the same eighty or so people every year may feel that the world wasn’t made for them. They might think they are the only person within a hundred miles who doesn’t dream of the same copy-pasted life with the same recurring characters. Now at least, the voices amplified by JBLs sound a lot more like their own.

I want listeners to feel okay yearning, being openly desperate in a cute, chaotic, queer way.

To be a queer artist sometimes comes with the unspoken expectation that you are a standard bearer for the community, your art and presence meant to plow through the endless roadblocks to simply existing in the world as yourself. It’s a lot of pressure, and sometimes takes focus away from what you want – to be human. A person who loves and seeks to be loved. Someone with a massive crush too scared to break the tension. Someone completely and crushingly normal. It is a privilege to just be boring.

That’s not to say that MARIS is boring. What makes her a shining beacon in the wave of post-Chappell Roan sapphic pop is a combination of her live energy, stellar songwriting, and an awe-inspiring control of her voice that induces goosebumps regularly through each crescendo. She is an explosion of sound and color, screaming qith queer bravado that she is here and she feels what everyone else does.

I don’t know why I don’t just dive
I bet the water is nice
Don’t wanna move until you prove that I’m the
Girl that you like

Connoisseurs of Spotify’s New Music Friday may have already sipped on her recent taste of pop sugar in the form of “Give Me a Sign,” a collaboration with Caroline Kingsbury and consequently her quickest track to hit a million streams. “I never imagined that kind of reaction,” she admits. “It’s changed everything.” No kidding, and yet not surprising. 

Bouncing synths and pristine production buoy the yearning at its center. MARIS and Kingsbury leap back and forth from the edge, dying to take the plunge and yet anxious of the implication of simply dipping their toes. Yet what could be a simpering tale of unrequited love instead bursts with glee and bombast – as if in the final chorus they were saying, “Isn’t it awesome to feel this heartache?”

On stage, “Give Me a Sign” marks a clear shift in the performance as MARIS shifts from an almost caterpillar-like nascent to blooming queer euphoria (and what better way to mark it than with a costume change too?). But this is only one show-stopping moment among many. From the sweeping grandeur of “Heavenly Bodies” to the punk-inflected desperation of the unreleased “Jessica,” and the haunting, searching, and ultimately affirming balladry of “Chameleon,” MARIS conquers the stage one blow after the next. “Salt Water Taffy,” a sun-drenched postcard of summertime nostalgia, tops her set like a glistening red cherry. Tubular synths soaked in generous reverb frame MARIS’ vocals like a fading Polaroid. Halcyon days pass despite her plea:

“Don’t go yet, I was finally happy
In the grass laughing, salt water taffy.”

Just last Friday, MARIS added to this considerable arsenal with “Mary + I,” another choice cut from her performance. The track further pushes her sonic boundaries, blending spirituality with hedonism in one shimmering anthem. Born from an unexpected source – a period of cannabis-induced celibacy – it chronicles her journey into profound self-discovery.

“I learned about the god within myself, and within every atom on earth,” she shared.

Where others craft predictable summer bangers, MARIS delivers a glittering meditation on weed, sex, and faith. This fearless exploration of the sacred and profane further elevates her beyond just another voice in the queer pop renaissance.

If you haven’t heard the music of this star in waiting, now is your chance, especially if you share the urgent longing of finding another soul as wild and colorful as your own.

This is your sign.

Atwood Magazine had the distinct privilege of sitting down with MARIS to talk about “Give Me a Sign,” ’80s anthems, and plans for world domination among other things.

Check out our whole conversation below.

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:: connect with MARIS here ::

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“Give Me a Sign (ft. Caroline Kingsbury)” – MARIS

A CONVERSATION WITH MARIS

MARIS: It’s bananas! I never imagined that kind of reaction. It’s changed everything.

MARIS: Caroline is electric. She invited me to a session for her project and by the end I was like, “Hey, I have this track, it’s written, I just need a killer queer vocalist.” I told her the story behind the song – me crushing on this girl, both of us too scared to make the first move. Growing up queer in Montana, there’s trauma around that. You’re not just risking rejection, but social exile. Caroline got it. She’s a lesbian from Florida, and she immediately said, “This is a hit. I need to be on it.” Two days later, we were recording vocals. A week later, we shot the artwork. It all fell into place like magic.

MARIS: More than impact, I want to celebrate the community that raised me. When I moved to New York at 18, I was making out with girls in bar basements and realizing… no one cared. Total freedom. I want listeners to feel okay yearning, being openly desperate in a cute, chaotic, queer way. Fans have handed me signs that say things like “Slippery When Wet.” That’s the energy.

MARIS: It’s complicated. Montana is stunning — saltwater taffy, wildflowers, summer air — but growing up queer there was tough. I didn’t feel like I fit in. When I moved away and started touring, especially overseas, I saw how different the world could be. Now when I go back, I see it with new eyes. I have two little nephews. Watching them discover the world, it softens everything.

I’ve been writing songs since I was 16. This is the first time I feel truly seen.

MARIS: It’s opened a lot of doors. I’ve been writing songs since I was 16, grinding online, playing any show I could. This song gave me that moment of validation. I wrote it needing to get these feelings out. Now I’m in meetings, having real conversations about what’s next. It feels like I’m finally being seen for something I genuinely love.

I’m sitting on a secret SoundCloud link with demos that fans have been obsessing over. “Give Me a Sign” was the fan favorite. That’s how we knew to release it. I want to do an album right: no skips, immersive top to bottom. But I need the right partner to build it with. Hopefully 2026.

MARIS: “Alone” by Heart. That line, “How do I get you alone?” hits so hard when you’re crushing but too scared to say it. Also, “Waiting for a Star to Fall” by Boy Meets Girl. Maybe not technically queer, but it feels like it.

MARIS: Harry Styles, hands down. He doesn’t define his sexuality, but his shows feel like a lovefest. Pure acceptance. Also he’s my dream tour mate.

MARIS: Freddie Mercury. If he executive produced an album with me? I’d die happy. I’d fall in love with him, obviously.

MARIS: “Heavenly Bodies” came from me being stoned in the bathtub watching space documentaries. They said “heavenly bodies falling to Earth,” and I was like, that’s me. Totally me.

MARIS: End of the film. Someone’s running down the street, heart racing. Actually, scratch that. It’d be Troy Bolton in High School Musical, slamming the lockers, hitting the water, emotional AF. Replace the song with mine, and you’ve got a queer cinematic masterpiece.

MARIS: Thank you! Let’s do it again when the album drops.

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:: connect with MARIS here ::

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