“i would go as far as to say anyone who doesn't like this is somehow under the influence of satan” - torrance
#39.

Laura Marling - Alas I Cannot Swim (1563 Points, 20 Votes, Two #1 Votes)US Chart Position: n/a
UK Chart Position: #45
Charting Singles: n/a
SOMB Says: I was hanging on for local heroes Six Nation State to come on stage after My Luminaries, then I remembered the name from a few weeks before. I’d missed Friendly Fires play near me and a couple of people mentioned the blonde local girl who’d played that night and sung backing vocals on The Rakes album as well as the EP of hers (The London Town EP) and a Ryan Adams cover (“Answering Bell”) I’d half listened. I’m glad I stayed. Six months later she’d recorded “New Romantic” a pure, simple acoustic guitar ballad with naïve lyrics about young love. It was devastating. It gets covered on YouTube once a week by a fresh-faced innocent youth as some sort of micro-generational anthem but to the slightly more world wearied of us, it’s more of a window back into how we thought and acted. It was here a Herculean love affair began. Twelve further months later still and we are talking about a Mercury nominated album which has been making a respectful number of publications end of year lists. Coming out in the shadow of the big two British females releases (The UK #1 albums from Adele and Duffy) it struggled to make an impact outside of the broadsheet reviews but clearly it’s not just me that has seen in it qualities that have kept us coming back to it nearly a year later.
There’s something about the songs on this album that reminded me of the way that President elect, Barack Obama addressed questions during the election campaign. Instead of merely opening his mouth as soon as a nano-second of silence presented itself he would take a visible pause and think about what he was going to say. That’s the sense I get from this album; it’s been thought over, developed (“Failure” dates back to at least 2005) and as entwined in death, heartache and aching depression as it is, it’s not a record of denial or anger, its acceptance. It says much when it says little, letting the songs breathe and the building up from guitar and vocals before, often as not, the songs finish to smattering, splashing, rolling drums, sighing or wailing washes of strings or an accordion here, xylophone there filling the spaces in between. When she does sail through her lyrics, it’s clear she has a way with words already and the stripped back nature allows you to hear them, unlike some of her peers.
The three singles show that this isn’t just some Brit school alumnus that has found a niche to bend her pop songs into, despite retaining that sensibility to them. Opener “Ghosts” implores us that the narrator doesn’t “believe in everlasting love”, “Cross Your Fingers” that we are “all gonna die when the buildings blow” and “Night Terror” starts with the line “I woke up and he was screaming” Recent b-sides and debuting of newer songs live has shown that a more pure folk direction will not be alleviating this gloom. Aside from the singles there’s plenty more to investigate within the dozen songs on here. From the honey dripped voice on “Old Stone”, the teasing come-on and “They fuck you up, your mum and dad” of “Tap At My Window” or “My Manic & I” from the EP of the same name. The sweeping Arcade Fire–esque climax of “My Manic & I” acts as the template for many of the song structures included on here. These three songs also showcase another of the albums strengths, the production of Noah and The Whale front man Charlie Fink who incorporates burning embers, rain on a window pane, Laura giggling, the scribbling of a pen amongst chatter and birdsong within the gaps in the tracks to reaffirm the sense of this being a collection of songs that live together in their own place and time, literally if you have the song box.
Whereas earlier on the record Marling declares to someone that despite their independence and lack of need for support that “You’re No God”, come the rough waters on “The Captain and The Hourglass” she is sitting under clouds alone and lamenting the passage of time and while on one hand she falls into the water, “done with all this bullshit” on the other, since she sold her soul to Jesus, she’s had no fun. The track itself quietly strums and despite sounding like it could have washed across the Atlantic from Saddle Creek it never quite blooms into a country hoe-down it threatens to. The restraint that Marling and her band show is evident throughout the album and like “Shine” says Laura is “honest, not a shouter” a very key point when you hear her deliver the cooing 75 seconds of “Crawled Out of The Sea” and you know that she has the voice to replace the quiet reflections of those clipped syllables with elongated sustained vowel sounds. That she chooses not to makes it all the more affecting. “Shine” also contains some of the best lyrics on the record, dealing with the overwhelming power of love to cloudy the waters and make someone a vessel for that emotion and no-longer themselves, the person that she was in love with herself at the start. Despite shying away from the light and needing some space from it, she cannot go back to being blind.
As birds twitter around her on her she sweetly tales the tale of “Your Only Doll (Dora)” who it sounds like is on the receiving end of an abusive relationship where she is queen in his bed but as cellos swoon she ends up head against the wall, broken and refusing to be alive. The birds chatter on before giving way to the sing-a-long hidden title track, based on a Persian poem part of which translates to “There is a boy, across the river with his bottom like a peach but alas, I cannot swim”. The absolute best thing about this record? The promise of more to come.
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Mitchell Artist's Previous Rankings on Our Albums Lists: n/a
Ranked Highest By: Mitchell, Paper Tiger, Duff. (#1)
Also Ranked By: Alright Still, Torrance (#2), Waterloo (#3), RabbiSchmoiley, Bobzilla (#5)
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