Born from the ache of unresolved trauma and her own search for closure, singer/songwriter Marem Ladson’s “Cavity” is a dreamy, heavy, and devastatingly intimate exhale – a smoldering, soft-lit reckoning that solidifies her as one of 2026’s most essential artists-to-watch.

Stream: “Cavity” – Marem Ladson

Allowing yourself to be vulnerable, to put your guard down, opens the door for others to really see you. It’s scary, but it’s also beautiful

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Soft haze, slow burn, and a voice that feels like a hand pressed gently, steadily against your chest.

That’s what hits when you press play on Marem Ladson’s “Cavity” – a warm, dreamy heaviness, that tender, close-mic ache that makes you sit still in your own skin and feel. The song unfurls like breath in a dim room: Slow, sweltering guitars glowing like embers; Ladson’s voice hovering just above them, full of longing and restraint and an almost unbearable intimacy. It’s wondrous, molten, heartbreakingly soft – a song that sinks in deep and refuses to loosen its grip.

“There’s so many things that I wish I knew, but I won’t hear them from you,” the Galician singer/songwriter declares, her soft voice melting into the surrounding electric guitars. That line alone feels like a wound reopening, like touching a scar you don’t remember earning. “Cavity” is dreamy, yes, but it’s also raw – steeped in unanswered questions, emotional heat, and the quiet, seismic work of letting go. It’s a song made for late nights and long-held truths; a song that feels like a confession spoken into darkness.

And in that shadowy, shimmering space, one thing becomes clear: Marem Ladson is an artist we need to know.

Don’t be so surprised
I never had a cavity
Tell me that you’re proud of me
Look me in the eye
I think to some capacity
You look just like me
There’s so many things
that I wish I knew
But I won’t hear them from you

Marem Ladson’s story begins in Galicia, where fog, rain, and solitude quietly shaped her voice. Born and raised in Spain’s northwestern edge, she grew up in an environment that shaped her introspective, intimate writing. She taught herself guitar in her bedroom and began writing early, turning inward in search of connection and understanding. Her songs often arrive like fragments, fragile yet unflinching, “less like performance and more like an act of witnessing.”

Now based in Queens’ Ridgewood neighborhood, Ladson has spent the past few years touring with artists like Helado Negro, Squirrel Flower, and Nick Hakim – slowly building a world that feels entirely her own. “Cavity,” one of her latest singles, is both a culmination and a rupture: A turning point and a reckoning.

Released October 1^st via Mtn Laurel Recording Co., “Cavity” hits with enchanting warmth and a heavy, smoldering emotional gravity. Co-produced with Jake Aron and featuring contributions from Nick Hakim (piano), Will Graefe (guitar), Nuria Graham (bass), and Jeremy Gustin (drums), the song blooms like smoke, like memory, like something half-remembered and wholly felt. But beneath its velvety exterior lies something seismic. The track was born from a discovery that shattered and reshaped Ladson’s understanding of herself: Learning the truth about her biological father.

It took you so long
24 years for our paths to cross
In the same streets that I’ve always walked
Did you ever leave? Were you here all along?
Maybe I’ll never know

“‘Cavity’ came from a very personal place,” she tells Atwood Magazine. “I wrote it after learning the truth about my biological father, a discovery that revealed parts of my story I hadn’t known growing up. He had never been a part of my life, and then, a few years ago, he appeared unexpectedly.” Writing became survival – clarity – and then liberation.

The moment she started putting those feelings into words, the dam broke. Anger, confusion, grief, resentment, longing – all of it rose to the surface. “It has opened conversation within my family,” she says. “Families often avoid confronting what hurts, and trauma and silence can be passed down through generations. For me, a lot of ‘Cavity’ is about confronting unresolved trauma and finding closure.”

She distills that shift into a single, piercing statement: “In ‘Cavity’ I’m surrendering to the fact that there are things I’ll never have answers for. It’s a way of letting go and saying out loud what had been kept quiet for too long. Of giving shape to anger, confusion, grief – but also to resilience. It’s about reclaiming my story, and choosing not to carry the silence, the shame, the weight that was never mine to hold.” The song doesn’t aim for tidy closure. It sits in the half-light of uncertainty and chooses honesty over silence, heat over numbness, truth over inheritance.

You know so little of me
With your bright shiny teeth
You offer me coffee
But I only drink tea
Do you realize
There’s no one out there to blame
I hate the way we smile the same
Now that we’re older
You just wanna take
The weight off your shoulders
It’s too much to bear

Her first release of 2025 (followed by her latest single, the softly cinematic “Alone Forever”), this song – and this moment – mark a new chapter for Ladson, one rooted in radical honesty.

“This song feels like a turning point for me, both personally and artistically,” she says. “It’s the most honest I’ve ever been in my writing. It took a lot of therapy,” she laughs.

You can hear that shift in the way she sings: Closer, warmer, less guarded. You can feel it in the arrangement: Hazy, hovering, quietly brave. You can sense it in the choices she makes sonically – guitars that smolder and simmer, textures that swirl like heat off pavement, drums that move with the weight of memory. It’s emotional excavation, rendered with softness and flame.

Part of that heat comes from the people who helped bring “Cavity” to life. “I feel so lucky to have made this song with such incredible musicians and friends,” Ladson says. Her bond with Catalan singer/songwriter (and 2021 Atwood artist-to-watch) Núria Graham runs especially deep: “We’ve known each other for years… living in the same city and far away from home has brought us closer together. I love her so much, I admire her and I love making music together.”

She speaks of all of her collaborators with that same reverence. “Everyone contributed… in a way that felt very intentional and collaborative.” It’s no wonder this music feels so alive, so warm. You can hear the trust, the intimacy, the community holding the song up from within.

“Alone Forever,” Ladson’s recently released companion single, widens the emotional world she’s building. She describes it as written “when I was still in a relationship that had already ended in every way except words.”  It’s the sound of someone watching love dissolve in real time – quietly devastating, beautifully observed.

“I am just sitting here watching love fade away into yesterday,” she sings in the track’s second verse. It’s another window into her emotional landscape – intimate, aching, vulnerable in a way that feels both brave and deeply human.

Taken together, these songs sketch the shape of an artist stepping fully into herself. “I hope these songs offer a little space for reflection and maybe help someone feel less alone in what they’re carrying,” Ladson shares. Vulnerability, she believes, opens a door – not just for the artist, but for everyone listening. “For me, it has brought a deep sense of freedom and connection. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable, to put your guard down, opens the door for others to really see you. It’s scary, but it’s also beautiful.”

That is exactly what “Cavity” does: It invites you in. It holds space. It breathes. It aches. It burns slow and glows bright. It makes room for pain without rushing it toward a resolution. It feels like sitting beside someone who tells you the truth – not the softened version, not the polished one, but the real truth, the tender and difficult truth.

It took you so long
24 years for our paths to cross
In the same streets that I’ve always walked
Did you ever leave? Were you here all along?
Maybe I’ll never know

And that’s what makes Marem Ladson an undeniable artist-to-watch in 2026.

Her music is dreamy and heavy, wondrous and warm, intimate and smoldering – the kind of art that sits with you long after it ends. She writes with emotional clarity and sings with a softness that still somehow burns. “Cavity” feels like a quiet upheaval, a reclamation, a letting go – and the beginning of something new.

Truth be told, she’s not just an artist to watch; she’s an artist to follow closely, to sit with, to return to. And with a soul-stirring catalog dating all the way back to 2017, new fans will find no shortage of richness, depth, and beauty to explore.

But “Cavity” marks a striking turning point – an exhale years in the making, and the beginning of something even more vulnerable and fully realized. Dive into our intimate interview below to hear Ladson speak candidly about her breathtaking new song, the story behind it, and the emotional terrain she’s stepping into next.

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:: stream/purchase Cavity here ::

:: connect with Marem Ladson here ::

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Stream: “Cavity” – Marem Ladson

A CONVERSATION WITH MAREM LADSON

Marem Ladson: I make music as a way of understanding myself and the world around me. I was born and raised in Ourense, a small town in Galicia, in the north of Spain, and I’ve been living in New York for the past three years. I started writing songs and playing guitar in my bedroom when I was in high school, as a way to process things I didn’t know how to talk about, and my music often comes from that place of introspection.

Marem Ladson: “Cavity” came from a very personal place. I wrote it after learning the truth about my biological father, a discovery that revealed parts of my story I hadn’t known growing up. He had never been a part of my life, and then, a few years ago, he appeared unexpectedly. Writing “Cavity” was a way of expressing questions, pain, anger, resentment, grief, and my need to understand and forgive. It was also a way of finding clarity and choosing honesty – with myself, and then with others. Writing it was scary, because it’s so vulnerable, but it has also been incredibly liberating.

It has opened conversation within my family, giving us a chance to talk about painful things instead of keeping them buried. Families often avoid confronting what hurts, and trauma and silence can be passed down through generations. For me, a lot of “Cavity” is about confronting unresolved trauma and finding closure. I want to be able to speak openly about what hurts.

And I’m sure a lot of people can relate. For a long time, I thought my story was so unique, and I felt alienated and lonely. But the truth is, many people have complex stories, and connecting through those stories can be healing. (I wrote more about the meaning behind the song in my latest Substack post, which you can read here.)

Marem Ladson: This song feels like a turning point for me, both personally and artistically. It’s the most honest I’ve ever been in my writing. It took a lot of therapy haha. I think I’m learning to embrace vulnerability, and to see music not as something I have to perfect, but as a living document of where I’m at. “Cavity” opened the door to a new chapter of my work that feels more grounded in truth and acceptance.

Marem Ladson: I feel so lucky to have made this song with such incredible musicians and friends. Núria and I go way back, we have known each other for years, when we were both still living in Spain, and now we’re both in New York. Living in the same city and far away from home, and creating a new home here, has been such a bonding experience and has brought us closer together. I love her so much, I admire her and I love making music together.

Jake, Will, Jeremy, Nick, they’re all amazing musicians and I feel so inspired by them. I’m so grateful to make music with them. Everyone contributed to the recordings of “Cavity” and “Alone Forever” in a way that felt very intentional and collaborative.

Marem Ladson: I hope these songs offer a little space for reflection and maybe help someone feel less alone in what they’re carrying. For me, it has brought a deep sense of freedom and connection. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable, to put your guard down, opens the door for others to really see you. It’s scary, but it’s also beautiful.

Marem Ladson: I wrote “Alone Forever” when I was still in a relationship that had already ended in every way except words. We were still together, but I could feel how far we’d drifted. It’s strange how quickly love can turn into something unrecognizable, how the person who once knew you best can start to feel like a stranger. This song came from that moment of clarity, from watching love dissolve before my eyes, and knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening. Writing it was my way of observing and dissecting the situation, leaving room for all the thoughts I was only half ready to admit and saying all the things I couldn’t really say out loud at that time.

“Sitting here watching love fade away into yesterday.” I think sometimes what keeps people together isn’t love anymore, but fear. Fear of being alone, or of causing pain. Out of that fear, love can turn into a kind of mercy, where you both start performing versions of yourselves to protect each other from the truth. And love can be cruel when it’s performed out of compassion.

“You only told me what I wanted to hear so I wouldn’t leave you, afraid of being lonely, that was the only reason keeping us together.” “I don’t want to make you cry, I don’t want to make you change.” There’s something deeply human about that instinct to hold on, even when you know it’s time to let go.

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:: stream/purchase Cavity here ::

:: connect with Marem Ladson here ::

:: stream/purchase Alone Forever here ::

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Stream: “Cavity” – Marem Ladson

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