She sings, because she can

Laura Marling's music is as rich as the soil from which her rootsy sound grew. A childhood spent lapping up Nick Drake and Joni Mitchell has nourished this young musician, helping her to grow into an observant and ripe folk musician in her own right.

Laura Marling sings with a strength and maturity that belies her age. A modern day Joni Mitchell, Marling released her debut album when she was just 18 years old. Hitting shelves in early 2008, Alas, I Cannot Swim went on to be nominated for the UK coveted Mercury Prize the same year. Now, two years on she’s back with her second album I Speak Because I Can (2010).

Effortlessly avoiding the sophomore slump, Marling has delivered a poignant, engaging and remarkably mature release. At only 20, she is arguably the most promising singer/songwriter to emerge in the past few years. Big things are expected from this misleadingly dainty talent.
Ever since she was thrust into the spotlight as a shy 18 year old, Laura Marling has borne the burden of expectation with surprising poise. This incredibly mature bearing however, is something that characterises all things about Marling, including, most obviously, her music. She sings in a voice husky with experience and writes lyrics weighed down with the knowledge of age.

At the same time, particularly on her second album, her music manages to sound youthful and fresh. I Speak Because I Can simultaneously combines a coming-of-age exuberance with the world-weariness of an old soul. Deceptively simple lyrics like “I tried to be a girl who likes to be used/I'm too good for that/There's a mind under this hat” capture this dichotomy at play. Here, Marling applies the frank and timeless style of folk lyricism to illustrate the foibles of life as a modern young woman.

Another beautifully simplistic element of Marling’s new album is its honesty. The record is steeped in sincerity, the hallmark of a true folk artist. But there’s restraint here too, and complexity. Whilst resoundingly melancholy I Speak Because I Can betrays Marling’s strength. Her sadness, anger and nostalgia are beautifully cloaked in melody and metaphor and delivered with whole-hearted conviction. True talent is clearly an ageless thing.