Out of the Dark and Into the Spotlight – Maiah Wynne’s Solo Album
Today, we have the absolute privilege of premiering the title track from Maiah Wynne’s upcoming solo debut LP, Out of the Dark. The album, a deeply personal and creative effort, is currently available for pre-order at this link.
It’s impossible not to feel inspired by Maiah—not just because of her incredible journey, which she lays bare on this record, but also because of the sheer depth of her creativity. This album explores some deeply personal stories, from her experiences with complex post-traumatic stress disorder to the darker, more difficult moments of her life. And then there’s the fact that some of these songs date back to when she was just 16 years old.
Maiah isn’t just a songwriter. She’s a producer, a graphic designer—and when it comes to playing instruments, let’s just assume the answer is all of them. Yes, every single one. If it can make music, she’s probably already mastered it, and let’s be honest—there are probably instruments out there we don’t even know exist that Maiah has figured out how to play. Her talent is equal parts jaw-dropping and mildly unfair. But, incredibly inspiring.
This track, Out of the Dark, feels like a piece that I believe will connect with so many people, offering both beauty and solace through its message and its music. Maiah Wynne’s journey is nothing short of amazing, and this song is a reflection of her strength and undeniable talent.
Singing to the Past: The Message Behind Out of the Dark
About the song she comments:
“Out of the Dark” is the title track and the emotional heart of the record. I wrote it at a time where I was feeling particularly low and hopeless and was contemplating ending my life. It wasn’t the first time I had felt that way, but for the first time, I was starting to process the trauma that I had been through as a kid and where all of the pain was coming from. I wanted to find a way through that dark place, so I decided to write a song to my younger self. The lyrics and message of this song is what I wish I could tell my 16-year-old self, who was going through so much on her own with no one to turn to. I hope that this song will help someone else feel less alone.
The song kicks off with some strings, tucked deep into the background, paired with gentle acoustic strumming front and center, and they create a kind of emotional undercurrent, like a single rain drop creating ripples in a still pond. I feel like there’s something tender about how the instrumentation seems to mirror the song’s vulnerability, as if it’s hesitant to speak too loudly. It’s done so brilliantly, pulling you along as if you’re naturally part of its flow.
Once the chorus begins to unfold, the percussion begins to step forward—not sharply, but with a gentle insistence, which is really cool because it feels like it’s quietly carrying the emotional weight of the song. There’s a softness in how it builds, creating an intensity that remains intimate.
Even the very mix of this song feels like a natural extension of its story—a reflection of its pain and its glimmers of hope. Personally I find one of the coolest aspects is how the strings seem to drift in and out across the stereo field, never anchored to one spot. They move like memories or fragmented thoughts, slipping through your consciousness that has this intentional and ephemeral feel about it.
At times, they linger distantly, from the farthest edges of the mix, and at others, they draw near—so close you can almost feel their presence brushing past you. It creates a beautifully dynamic interplay between the music and the story it carries.
What truly stands out about this track is Maiah’s breathtaking vocal performance. To call it beautiful feels almost inadequate—it’s so much more than that. Every nuance feels placed to reflect the deeply delicate nature of the song’s context. It’s not just the words she sings, but the way she sings them that creates such an emotional impact. Her voice becomes like this vessel, carrying the message with incredible care and intention.
What makes it even more powerful is when you think about what perspective she brings: this is her singing to her younger self. There’s a quiet, nurturing quality in her delivery that feels almost like a conversation, which is now filled with wisdom, patience, and an unmistakable sense of love. Her voice here really embodies the compassion and understanding she wishes she could have extended to herself during those difficult years. It’s a voice of lived experience, of someone who has faced their struggles and now wants to gently guide someone else toward healing, which is what I take from it, and I think others will as well.
And one of the parts of this track that I feel really drives that feeling home, comes during the second part of the chorus. The angelic vocal riffing that emerges here feels like it’s wrapping itself around you, creating an almost celestial embrace. It feels supportive, as if it’s there to ground you while the emotions of the song settle in. I feel like this combination of sensitivity and strength in her vocal performance is the very heart of what makes this song hit so deeply.
Speaking of which, this is such a beautifully written song, I do want to mention the lyrics. The opening line here I feel speaks to the silent battle so many fight when dealing with intrusive thoughts. It’s about the quiet, exhausting struggle of managing an inner pain that no one else sees. The kind of stuff that doesn’t scream out loud but instead burrows deep, creating like this private world of hurt that feels safer than facing the vulnerability of opening up. Which is already incredibly difficult as an adult, and must be terrifying to experience as a child.
It becomes to pretend everything is fine—to plaster on a smile, to engage in surface-level conversation, to give no one a hint of the storm inside. Over time, hiding that pain feels easier than addressing it, even if it’s draining the life out of you bit by bit. The idea of finding comfort in the silence is a very scary truth.
For someone dealing with unresolved trauma or persistent negative thoughts, the silence becomes both a sanctuary and a trap. It’s the place where you don’t have to explain yourself, where you don’t risk judgment or misunderstanding. Yet, it’s also a place where those thoughts grow louder and harder to dismiss. Over time, living in that silence can make the world outside feel unmanageable—because keeping your struggles hidden, even at the expense of your own well-being, feels like the only thing you have control over.
The effort it takes to look “okay,” to not let anyone see through the cracks, can feel unbearable. Yet the alternative—letting someone in, risking exposure—feels equally terrifying.
Then, we find ourselves at the chorus. There’s something so incredibly gentle about the way the pre-chorus steps in with “and I hope someday you’ll find.” It feels like she is carefully reaching out to her younger self here, but with a soft open hand rather than a closed pull. It’s not demanding or insistent—it’s sensitive to the fragile nature of healing, respecting how personal and uneven that journey can be. This moment to me feels like it’s letting us know that timing is everything. It’s not about rushing or forcing the process, but I feel like this is saying it’s about planting the seed of hope that, when the time is right, things can begin to shift.
When the chorus arrives, it carries a sense of release. “It’s the perfect time” doesn’t mean there’s one specific moment everyone must seize, to me it means that whenever you’re ready, that is the perfect time. The sentiment isn’t about perfection in the traditional sense, but rather the recognition that healing begins when you decide to take that step, however small. It’s empowering without feeling overwhelming, but it leads to transformation.
It shows the process of healing as messy and real. Unpacking all of this pain you’ve carried, piece by piece, and finally setting it down. Theses words let you know that these pieces are part of you, but they don’t have to define or control you anymore. Letting go isn’t easy, but the song frames it as something liberating—something that can allow you to finally leave the darkness behind, and it is possible. The balance between encouragement and patience here is what makes the writing so moving I think. It captures the complexity of deciding to heal and to begin moving forward.
The song’s final line is its most powerful. To hear, “you’re not the only one” is a lifeline for anyone who has felt utterly and profoundly alone in their pain. Trauma often isolates—it convinces you that no one else could possibly understand the depth of your experience, that your pain is singular and, in some cruel way, proof of your separation from others.
But here I love how she dismantles that loneliness. Because again, it like shes not only speaking to her younger self here; she’s speaking to anyone who has felt trapped in the belief that their pain makes them an island. I love how this line conveys that while pain is deeply personal, it’s also shared.
From Storms to Shores – The Visual Language of Healing in Out of the Dark
Of course, the song is accompanied by its visually stunning video, and regarding the video, she shares:
As an indie artist, I try my best to make videos that authentically represent the vision I have within a small budget. I was very lucky to be able to film an underwater music video for this song, and it turned out very close to how I envisioned it. The music video is a metaphor intended to represent my struggles with depression and the battle to keep fighting when the darkness starts to pull me under.
We filmed the “rain” shots in the backyard with a hose (what you don’t see is my dog running around in the background), and we used a friend’s pool for the underwater shots, and I filmed myself in my bathtub for the transition shots. A friend helped me to get the last shots of me coming out of the water at a local beach. It was all very DIY, and I am so happy with how it turned out and thankful for the friends who helped make it possible.
I am proud of the new skills I learned to complete the video and all of the challenges I overcame to create my vision. The water was very cold and filming was grueling, and I had to push past my fear of being under water to get the shots I needed. It feels like a triumph and a perfect tie-in to the message of the song having successfully created this video and come out on the other side.
Which, as someone who has the privilege of working alongside some of the most talented photographers and videographers here at Folk N Rock, always reminds me of the magic that can be created in even the most unexpected places. It’s incredible how much creativity and ingenuity can transform virtually any setting into a world all its own.
One moment you’re immersed in a scene that feels cinematic and otherworldly, and the next, you pull back to realize you’re in the most ordinary spot imaginable. You could be crafting a breathtaking visual story in what appears to be the heart of the Sahara desert, only to step out of frame and find a rat and a pigeon locked in a battle for a slice of thin crust on a Hoboken sidewalk. That’s the beauty of art—it’s not about where you are but how you see it.
But I digress. The video is a stunning visual counterpart to the song, perfectly complementing it. It opens on a stark black background with falling rain, with the use of lighting here is particularly striking, as the rain catches this ethereal blue hue, creating a ghostly shimmer that dances across the screen as the rain falls. In some moments, the way the light interacts with her dry form gives an almost chromatic aberration effect, creating a haunting, surreal aura outline effect on her.
The cinematography is really awesome, with tight close-ups on individual raindrops as they fall, splatter, and trail down surfaces. These shots alternate with wider frames of the downpour itself, mixing between the intimate and the expansive. The video does such a wonderful job at mirroring the duality of the song—her internal world versus the larger struggle it represents.
There’s another great effect used during her singing sections that deserves attention. Whether achieved through overcranking or another technique, the motion feels slightly faster than her actual singing. It’s an almost imperceptible shift, but it creates this hypnotizing quality where her physicality feels untethered from time, yet her voice stays perfectly synchronized with the audio. This subtle distortion makes it as if she’s caught in a moment where time and pain stretch endlessly.
The transitions in the video are another highlight. Another subtle great moment involves the chromatic blue outline transforming into a misty, smoky haze that seems to rise from her body. It’s almost as though the emotional weight she’s been carrying is leaving her, dissipating into the air. This visual ties beautifully into the themes of the song—letting go of what’s been hidden, releasing the pain piece by piece.
The underwater sequences are breathtaking. In one shot, a pale green light filters through the water, casting an eerie glow as she slowly sinks into the depths. The image is haunting and serene all at once, a perfect metaphor for the darkness she describes in the song—being pulled under, yet suspended in a space that feels strangely peaceful.
And then, the ending. The transition from the pool to the vast ocean creates an emotional catharsis as we see her emerge from the water and walk onto the beach. Sitting at the edge of the shore, overlooking the seemingly endless expanse of water, it feels like a quiet victory—a moment of reflection and release after the long journey through the depths. The way she looks out over the ocean suggests both a reverence for what she’s endured and a recognition of what lies ahead.
And as a reminder, pre-orders are available for her debut solo LP at the following link.
