British singer-songwriter Dom Malin has built his music career on personal, folk storytelling that continues to evoke connection within his loyal and new listeners. His music draws on his own memories and experiences, shaping them in songs that resonate on a wider level. After sharing stages with artists such as Paris Paloma and Dermot Kennedy, as well as leading headline tours across the UK and Europe, Malin has established himself as a captivating live performer. His newest EP, Echoes of Light, is grounded in that connection within himself and listeners, offering a collection of songs that feel both daringly personal yet expansive. Across five tracks, Malin carefully traces the hard-to-face process of confronting parts of yourself that you would rather shove away, before finally allowing yourself to see a shimmer of light.

“7 AM” immediately establishes this emotional landscape. Thick, silky acoustic guitar strums open up the song’s close-knit atmosphere, while a gentle, sad acceptance coats Malin’s voice as he relays his life’s repetitive reality. Musically, the song remains steady, mirroring the feeling of remaining stagnant and staying in the same place, alongside the hesitance to push for change. When the arrangement strips back into a chorus consisting of just Malin’s voice and soft, supporting guitar, it creates a space for closeness, allowing the listener to step into his shoes on a different emotional level. The final lyric, “Cuz I ain’t ready to feel alive,” is a sentiment not all of us are brave enough to admit. Sometimes, it can feel easier to avoid living life and avoid feeling every emotion altogether, until you convince yourself that you are not ready — or even worthy — to jump back into life.

This form of emotional avoidance continues with “Blackhole,” where Malin sings, “Cuz I’m numb inside / I don’t know how to feel alive.” His lower register adds a certain authentic warmth to the track, grounding a song that revolves around the isolating cycle of self-doubt and harmful, intruding thoughts. These are the thoughts that somehow seep back into your brain even when you have tried to avoid them, push them out and escape them in every way. There may be a loss of hope within “Blackhole,” but the song continues to trudge forward, guided by a light snare drum and floaty, star-like acoustics. That contrast becomes unavoidable: even within the darkness, there are still hints of beauty. 

“Lost in the Fog” moves further into the internal battle of trying to keep going when it feels like the hurt will never subside. There is a hazy navigation of lingering grief throughout the track, capturing the lonely detachment that comes from being stuck in emotional pain. No matter where you go, you keep running into it, and there’s no clear indication of when it will fade. Airy, light harmonies add to the quiet strength underlying the song, softening the blow of the weighty subject matter. Towards the end, Malin’s voice leans into a faint, raspy release, replacing disappointment with a frustration that pokes through. It feels like the moment when quietly carrying pain is no longer enough and the exhaustion of doing so starts to become audible.

The EP reaches a commanding peak with “Room at the Inn,”  which stands as a powerhouse on the record. The track touches on different thematic pinpoints without ever feeling scattered, taking us into the whirlwind of the hopes, fears and mindset of someone at their lowest: the loss of faith, the shame of the past, isolation and the search for belonging. The passion of Malin’s storytelling is reflected in the instrumental highs and lows, with the drums cutting out and diving in again at precisely the right moments to create a compelling push and pull. Malin understands the appeal of believing that the past could somehow be purified, while also recognizing the truth that life does not work that way. “I’ve fallen on hard times / And I’m barely alive / I need to dig deep within” becomes an acknowledgement of the necessary introspection that comes from confronting your reality. 

Then comes the closing track, “Sahara Sun.” A western twang from the electric guitar opens the song and carries the texture, while the acoustic provides an organic accompaniment. There is a bright determination here, a new hopeful energy within both the vocals and instrumentals that makes it a beautiful way to close out the EP and the personal journey we’ve been on. The progression from “7AM” to “Sahara Sun” is especially striking. Where the opening track finds Malin stuck in repetition, “Sahara Sun” arrives with the declaration of “Wanting a change.” Malin isn’t pretending that the past has disappeared; instead, he is putting one foot in front of the other and beginning to turn his life into something he is proud to live.

Echoes of Light is an EP about the uncomfortable space between wanting to escape your circumstances and finding the strength to actually change them. Malin doesn’t rush that journey, he allows himself and the listener to sit within the numbness, the grief, the guilt before finally reaching towards something brighter. Echoes of Light ultimately captures the emotional voyage back to yourself after being lost for so long, and the revelating moment when you finally take the first step in turning your life around.

Review from Alysa Benson – @alysanbenson