Mancunian quartet Maruja make music that feels volatile but deeply intentional - post-punk shot through with free jazz, anchored by spoken word vocals that carry a sense of both protest and spiritual searching.
Their new single âSaoirseâ (Gaelic for freedom) is a monument to this ideology: transcendent sax, sweeping strings and Harry Wilkinsonâs plaintive vocal at its core. It opens with a fractured flute line, disorienting but tender, giving way to a saxophone that becomes the trackâs emotional spine, compassionate and mournful. Wilkinsonâs vocal sits just above the chaos, steady and clear.
As the track progresses, it starts to unravel. The flute builds, the saxophone strains, drums tighten and suddenly, the calm is gone. The track doesnât explode so much as spill over. By the end, everything is laid bare.
Inspired by a decades-old comic strip found in saxophonist Joe Carrollâs Irish grandfatherâs belongings, showing a member of the Black and Tans boarding a boat from Dublin to Palestine, the song reflects on cycles of displacement and solidarity. The band puts it simply: âSaoirse means freedom, something we are witnessing being violently denied to the people of Palestineâ.
At its close, Wilkinson repeats a single line âItâs our differences that make us beautifulâ. Itâs not a slogan, just a quiet insistence.
Their debut album âPain To Powerâ is out 12 Sep.
đ§ Watch the video for 'Saoirse' below