Laura Marling: Breaking Already Broken Hearts

September 23, 2008 by Greg Justice  Send to a Friend

For those of you who aren’t Merle Haggard fans and are unfamiliar, the Birchmere is one of the best date spots in DC—for your parents.  It consistently attracts some of the most talented musicians of any venue in DC, but usually about 10 years or more after their prime. I could go on about this, but let me just say that Michael Bolton (as in, Michael Bolton) played there last year.  Tickets were $100, and he sold out.

So when a relatively unknown 18-year-old British indy folk artist like Laura Marling headlines the place, it’s no shocker the room is almost totally empty. It was an enthusiastic little crowd though, which made me think they were either fans of Marling or the usual bunch of Birchmere moms and dads who’ll clap and laugh at anyone the same age as their daughter.

The Birchmere does have one tremendous advantage over most other local venues: the opening act is always good.  Opening for Marling was Mumford and Sons, a quartet of amiable Englishmen playing a variety of folk-ish instruments: acoustic guitar, upright bass, banjo, keys, etc.  They were a spirited bunch, with substance and soul.  The abrasive intensity of the lead vocals (who returned later as Marling’s drummer/accordion player/ backup singer) could have easily been dismissed as melodramatic if the lyrics weren’t so good. From the song “Hold on to what you believe:” “…Casting love on me as if it were a spell I could not break, when it was a promise I could not make.”  I really liked these guys.  Too bad they didn’t have any album for sale.

Marling’s co-headliner was the young and uninspiring Johnny Flynn.  I don’t want to give him too much grief—but not because I don’t think there are valid critiques to be made.  I would just rather not be that damn coward of a critic who tears people down for no good reason.  He was fine.  He is talented.  He plays a lot of instruments—guitar, trumpet, mandolin, violin, etc.  His voice is great.  On my notepad I scrawled the words pleasant, safe, friendly, sweet.

When Johnny finally gave the stage to Marling, I was surprised at just how young, tiny and somber she is. She so resembled a 9-year-old girl who’s witnessed some horrible trauma that from her opening song—the first track off her album, Alas, I Cannot Swim—I was convinced she’s personally experienced everything she’s singing about. She sings with absolute credibility, and totally devoid of emotion. I would classify it as bleak-folk.

But everything about her performance was beautiful: from the intensity of her narrative songwriting, to the strength and purity of her voice, to the variety of sounds her band produced, to her compelling, dispassionate, annoyed attitude toward the crowd. She played through a mixed selection of her mesmerizing songs for an hour and then left abruptly, not returning for the encore we all were demanding—again breaking our already broken hearts.

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