It is so easy to confine musicians to specific genre boxes and all the while ignoring what they have to say. Thankfully people have quickly realised that 18 year old Laura Marling is not only wise beyond her years but also not in the same clique as Kate Nash, Duffy and Adele. The frighteningly mature song writer is also not completely ‘folk’, delivering more in the style of the brilliant Kathryn Williams and Thea Gilmore. Her debut album Alas, I Cannot Swim is an intriguing mix of, after the first few listens appears to be, school poetry and some impressive musical arrangements.It is clear from the album opener Ghosts, first single and most distinctive song, that Alas, I Cannot Swim will be an engaging collection. The delicate guitar loop makes way for Marling’s delicate vocals, slightly frantic at first then slowing to more control. The vocal arrangement is incredibly effective, as is the cold piano and drums. As the song gathers momentum again, the effect is more country than folk, not quite pop and too ordinary to be alternative. Putting this teenager into an aforementioned box is proving to be a challenge. And starting an album with the lines: ‘He walked down a busy street staring solely at his feet clutching pictures of past lovers at his side’ certainly grabs your attention. The catchy chorus also sums up Marling’s not so out of place view of life: ‘Lover, please do not fall to your knees. It’s not like I believe in everlasting love’. At the risk of being patronising, her voice is incredibly strong and vibrant in spite of being dour and melancholic.
Old Stone is much more sparse and open, like her influence Joni Mitchell playing a jaded youth. The song reveals not only a great voice but a harder edge. Again the opening lyrics begin a story: ’He chased me through the rain, “Honey, I'm going your way”. I don't think so’ with a running theme of lost love, isolation and loss. It could be worse, this could be Avril Lavigne territory, all stropy and angst-ridden instead of deep and reflective. Tap At My Window is full of delicious melody and an underlying string arrangement. Given the subject matter you would be forgiven for thinking that all this bottled-up frustration and disillusionment comes from a fractured childhood. Far from it as Marling played the song to her parents and told them it is nothing to do with them. Blame Philip Larkin apparently. The song even ends abruptly with an adolescent giggle.
Failure seems to be lifted from the Beth Orton catalogue and rolls along with a bitter-sweet rhythm. The line: ‘Don’t cry child, you've got something I would die for and if it comes to the rain, just be glad you'll smile again. So many don’t’ is truly brilliant. You’re No God has another pseudo-country folk tempo, smartly arranged like a fragment of a much bigger song. As seems to be the winning formula, a fragile opening makes way for a full dramatic finish.
Cross Your Fingers continues the short songs and gets a bit too simplistic and lines like the nursery rhyme-esque: ‘Cross your fingers hold your toes, we're all going to die when the building blows’ isn’t going to win her any fans. By it’s own admission (Interlude) Crawled Out Of The Sea is a brief moment of indulgence. It does have a wonderful trumpet solo.
My Manic And I gets things back on track and probably the best song on the album. Marling sings as if she has lived every word and the vocals drive every note. Another love song disguised as a metaphor for split personality: ‘I’m sorry young man, I cannot be your friend. I don’t believe in a fairytale end. I don’t keep my head up all of the time. I find it dull when my heart meets my mind’ and ‘I hardly know you, I think I can tell. These are the reasons I think that we’re ill’. The song is darker and more sinister so it stands out. The album slides into the equally scary Night Terror with Marling’s voice magnificent. The violin break is pure genius. Again it’s about as good as it gets for three minutes.
The Captain And The Hourglass has a real country feel and could be from any aspiring Nashville hopeful. Marling yet again proves that al those years listening to Dylan and Neil Young paid off as she delivers: ’The captain’s got his boots on and he’s heading out the door, leaving his lady along thinking he don’t love me no more. He’s done with all this bullshit; he’s going back to war. If heaven is as heaven does then this is hell for sure’. Sublime.
Shine is a real surprise and there is genuine vulnerability and strength in the vocals. This is linked to the finale Your Only Doll (Dora) with birdsong which continues throughout the song. It is another tale of sexual promiscuity delivered with all the deftness of Patti Smith impersonating Rufus Wainwright. Over a minute of birdsong reveals a song that could be the album track - why it is tagged on the end like some strange b-side masquerading as a ’bonus’ is anyone’s guest. It would have worked in place of Cross Your Fingers and Crawled Out Of The Sea. The slightly comedic ending suggests that it doesn’t really fit.
Marling’s songs are undoubtedly 90% inspiration and 10% experience, weaving new stories rather than old memories. It sounds as if she has lived a lifetime. Alas, I Cannot Swim is an album really worth listening to. It’s not just background music but a compelling and absorbing collection of songs rather than sounds and styles. The production is subtle and controlled, letting the musician make the statement. Ok so it’s dour and at times a bit creepy, as Marling’s insecurity and inner demons surface all too often but it shows a real strength and maturity to get it all down on paper and turn it into art.
-- CS
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