Today, we debut the video for Malenka‘s haunting new single ‘Creature of Devotion’ – watch it below. She says it’s a “youthful exploration of opposing feminine desires – freedom, and devotion to one person.”
Through sensual metaphor, Polish artist Malenka astounds with a fantastic vocal that sends quivers down the spine, above spindling acoustic motifs and hushed atmospheres, speaking of the vulnerability needed not only to experience love, but also to establish an authentic sense of self. It’s the lead and title track from her new EP out now.
‘Creature of Devotion’ by Malenka is a stripped back debut EP which tiptoes over London and Warsaw tower blocks, and out of the city. For the growing-up-fast fans of Billie Eilish and Olivia Rodrigo, but the sound is also older, reminding parents of Hope Sandoval, and grandparents of Joni Mitchell.
Malenka is born to Monika and Ireneusz in Warsaw, Poland. A few images shape her childhood: Church choir and Sunday Mass. Her brother, Miko, crying at the severed head of their hamster, executed by the cat. Wild strawberries in grandma’s garden beneath Owl Mountain, singing songs to ladybirds. The day their Dad, a musician, leaves. Mum works in admin selling machines to factories. Malenka unfurls loo rolls from the 7th floor flat, or spits out watermelon seeds like a machine gun. The Saska Kępa is home to Warsaw’s artists and bohemians and tramps; Malenka and her friends’ spot is the beach under the Poniatowski bridge. They lie by the river downing Desperados, vodka and tea.
At 16 Malenka decides on London, to her Dad, but no one is sure she will get on the plane. Two years of isolation prove long enough to master English. But she doesn’t sing a note. Malenka listens to her flatmates leaving, first the cleaner, the shop assistant and the Italian couple arguing gently. She closes the laptop – 86% on her stats paper – pushes the window open and lets the sun edge into the corner of the Limehouse tower block. She will be behind the bar later, under railway arches, selling honey-infused beer. In the summer she leads tasting sessions, never scolding rude stag-dos or sharp hens, she is proud of the beehives. Now she picks up the pad of paper, and lays the rosewood guitar across her neck. Bitter-sweet stories. Others evoke magic and nature. Inspiration from two places: a purge of emotion or chasing beauty. Writing to visuals. Songs have colours, as they seep out the window. Rolling rhythms, folksy and bluesy. Kept simple or mood arrangement. Her Dad plays bluegrass, though she does not. Sometimes vulnerable, sometimes powerful, always entrancing.
That voice. Bewildered and oddly beatific. Still maturing. Scribbling since a kid. Acoustic or electric. Consuming Patti Smith and Leonard Cohen, under the Poniatowski bridge. Warsaw to London. Pulling herself up by guitar straps and smarts – self-propelled by work ethic. Insomniac, city flower child, neurotic, elvish and kind.
