Laura Marling – Club Academy, 8 November 2008

From “that girl off the Mystery Jets single” to Mercury-nominated wunderkind, things have moved very quickly for Laura Marling. 

A mere eighteen years old, Laura was either the primary school tricycle or went through adolescence averaging one bad relationship every ten minutes. Her album references an extensive library of miseries, to which the majority of us will never be granted anything more than a visitor’s pass – I could probably go my entire life without even a tenth of her collection of cocked-up courtships. I’d be a tad more jaundiced about her output – hard to believe, I know – if she didn’t deliver the material with the sort of conviction and power for which lesser acts would gladly kill.

I was put to mind of the Lesser Smiths theory – in a video interview, Dr. Noel Gallagher postulates that The Smiths could never have been shit, because there’s no evidence for it. Scientifically sound and applicable to few, Laura’s another one who comes out of the hypothesis unscathed by dodgy home demos or scathing early bootlegs. It’s hard to imagine her giving a duff performance, and I can’t say that about many of the acts I’d call my favourites. Last night was the second time I’ve seen Marling, and she has come on in leaps and bounds since July – and make no mistake, she was unbelievable in July.

Laura Marling’s songs are, for the most part, a dirty, cracked window into a cavernous, echoing pit of despair, with the occasional spark of hope flickering out in the darkness. Naturally, I loved it. Go and see her if you get the chance, you can thank me later.

I give Laura Marling NINE BITTERLY-ENDED RELATIONSHIPS OUT OF TEN.

John Tucker