IN SONIC COLOUR: MARINA YOZORA’S SENSORY SHAPING LIVE SHOW

LIVE REVIEW | MARINA YOZURA | THE OLD HAIRDRESSERS, GLASGOW | 13th May 2026 by Amy Irene Marquez

Marina Yozora’s music is autobiographical story-telling that feels like turning the pages of her personal handwritten diary. Marina’s songs are a scrapbook of her exploring and processing her life experiences. Her story is deeply vulnerable and heart-felt. 

In her own words, Marina shares:

“I usually tell my audience that before the Marina Yozora project, my music was like a personal diary. But after I started Marina Yozora project, it is more like an abstract artwork painting. I stopped writing what happened in detail in the song, but described them in visual sounds and more metaphors. In the talk between the songs, I describe what the song is, almost like as if it’s a small description you see next to the artworks at gallery.”

Marina writes songs that feel like aether as she plucks airy tones with her guitar with added reverb sounding like she’s playing an ethereal harp. The melodies are soft and delicate while expressing some topics that are challenging and relatable.

Singing about friendships changing and dissolving and trying to fit into the world as a third culture kid, she also sings an adorable love letter speaking in sounds only her and her partner can understand in “Whale Song.” Marina shares her internal monologue so vividly. Her performance is backed with visual projections of serene breezy coastal sunsets.

However, the song “daffodils” has a visual projection takes a psychedelic turn from hazy sunny days of a pleasant memory that warps into confusion and moody misunderstanding. The pleasant image of tiny yellow flowers dotted on long stems get overlapped as the song plays. The long stems on the yellow flowers begin to form into crisscrossing lines that morph into a scrambled enmeshment. The light sunny yellows and greens shift into a more moody palette of mustard, olives and blacks. 

Marina Yozora’s performance is a sensory experience shaping sound and colours to share her innerworld. As the final chord echoed in the attic of the Old Hairdressers, it was a lingering note I didn’t want to end.