Product Description

Debut album from folk-pop singer-songwriter Laura Marling. A collection of British folk classics in the making, with hints of psychedelia, this album is a must for fans of artistssuch as Richard Hawley, Turin Brakes and Portishead. Includes the tracks 'My Manic And I', 'Night Terror' and 'Ghosts'.

Track Listing

1. Ghosts
2. Old Stone
3. Tap At My Window
4. Failure
5. You're No God
6. Cross Your Fingers
7. (Interlude) Crawled Out Of The Sea
8. My Manic And I
9. Night Terror
10. The Captain And The Hourglass
11. Shine
12. Your Only Doll (Dora)

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #128 in Music
• Released on: 2008-02-11
• Number of discs: 1

Amazon.co.uk Review
Reading-based songstress Laura Marling has been likened to veteran folksters Joni Mitchell and Joan Baez. Despite such hyperbolic accolades, her entry into the crowded world of young female singer-songwriters has been remarkably hushed and wonderfully organic. Having started writing songs at the age of 15, Marling's success has been achieved not by shouting, but by whispering her way through the ranks. Perhaps because of her youth--she turned 18 just before releasing this Alas, I Cannot Swim--Marling has an understated yet accomplished manner that just doesn't grate like some of her peers. Plus her songs are good--very good. Backed by imaginative arrangements from leftfield acoustic outfit Noah and the Whale, the tracks here are often coyly charming, though far from naïve. Marling digs impressively deep into all kinds of universal topics, from religion and parents to love and romance. Lead single "Ghosts" introduced to many her soft, alluring vocal style, and other songs here share the same sense of intimacy, even if they differ thematically and musically. Things are kept simple throughout (think acoustic strums and a homespun delivery), but there are subtle and beautiful contrasts throughout; the Beirut-esque carnival aura of "Crawled out of the Sea" and the brooding "Night Terror", for example, which provide darker counterpoints to airier fare like the folksy title track and the compelling "My Manic & I". Disarming yet deep, provocative yet peaceful, Alas places Marling head and shoulders above the bawlers and wailers. --Paul Sullivan

Customer Reviews

Awesome and relaxing
I have an intresting music collection to say the least ranging from the likes of paramore & My chemical romance to the feeling via infernal. Thus i know a bit about modern music(not just the mainstream before you object ;)..anywho). And this album is awesome give it a few listens to sink in & your gone, she has a lovely voice and the songs are beautifully written. All round class.

A stunning talent is born
This is just a great, great record. I saw Laura Marling support Rufus Wainwright last year, and didn't think she was anything special, but since then she seems to have completely re-invented herself. For a young woman of 18, her lyrics are incredibly mature and engaging - just compare her to someone like Kate Nash and her mockney warbling about boy troubles, and you despair of the gulf between their public profiles. Sometimes they have a quite nightmarish quality to them - literally on Night Terror, but also in the dark fable The Captain and the Hourglass ('behind every tree is a cutting machine' gives me the shivers). They can also be very funny, though (Failure laments another musician's waste of talent: 'he lost poetic ethic, and his songs are pathetic'). Marling's beautiful voice adds real emotional heft, too. Just listen to her on Your Only Doll, where a young woman suffers at the hands of an abusive partner - not autobiographical, I hope, but she conjures a whole, benighted life with complete conviction and tragic power in the space of four minutes. Likewise, on the gorgeous 'Tap at My Window', where the character berates her progenitors - 'Father I love you, but how can you watch as I push her away/ I cannot forgive you for bringing me up this way' - Marling inhabits this so completely that you worry what her own parents make of it.

Combine all this with wonderful tunes, superb arrangements, and a healthy sprinking of magic dust that makes the whole album rise above its estimable parts, and you have one of the finest debut albums of the decade. I can only hope that word of mouth will eventually bring this record the global success it so richly deserves.

PS Don't miss the lovely, trad-folk title track hidden at the end.

It's all gone swimmingly
Female singer-songwriters are like buses (not necessarily in appearance, you understand, and I'm not naming names): you wait ages and then three turn up at once. We seem to be inundated with them at the moment, and one who deserves the spotlight but isn't getting it so much (because she hasn't been seen shooting her mouth off in public or falling out of nightclubs) is Laura Marling. Her debut "Alas, I Cannot Swim" has also been somewhat overlooked because it is not in a pop/r'n'b idiom and she doesn't sing about, well, falling out of nightclubs. She appears to draw inspiration from an earlier generation of folk-rock singers, the likes of Joni Mitchell, Melanie, Jacqui McShee (of Pentangle), Linda Thompson etc.

The subject matter of her songs is a long way removed from the infatuations of (supposedly) hip urbanites trying to buy tequila at 4.00 a.m. too. Her lyrics sound rooted in the land, influenced more by Thomas Hardy or, in modern terms, Graham Swift than by the usual Camden Town obsessions. For someone who is still a teenager she displays a very mature take on difficult subjects such as parental strife, mental illness, death. God only knows what she might have to say by the time she's twenty-five. This is not to say the album is miserable. It is quite introspective, quite melancholy, but not all sad. "You're No God" and "My Manic and I" have an austere humour and light, lilting style. "Cross Your Fingers" has an almost nursery rhyme feel. And like many nursery rhymes, if you think about it, the words are much darker than the tune. The deft, basic acoustic folk backing is augmented here and there by strings and accordion.

So "Alas, I Cannot Swim" is not a party record. You might not play it getting ready to go out on Saturday night. But you might when you get home at whatever time on Sunday. And sitting at home any time, with a malt whisky, not an alcopop.