NYLON - May 2008 - (Page 109) AND THIS BIRD CAN SING Just when you thought you’d seen the last of them, another amazing young English female singer/songwriter comes along. Meet the prodigiously talented Laura Marling. By Andrea Cusick. Photographed by Lucy Hamblin “Look at the scratches on my arm,” says Laura Marling, gazing up for the first time from beneath her snowy blonde hair to push up her puffer jacket sleeve. The timid 18-year-old’s focus has shifted from staring down at her dark, chipped nails—in a manner reminiscent of a school girl who hasn’t done her homework and is hoping like hell the teacher won’t ask her a difficult question—to animatedly explaining the cause of a map of red lines on her otherwise milky skin. “His name’s Boris and he’s an evil cat who belongs to the family I lodge with in Shepherds Bush,” she says, with no hint of amusement. Sitting in a booth upstairs at the Annex in New York’s Lower East Side, the petite musician, who at a stretch looks her age but could easily be mistaken for younger (she was once kicked out of a London venue for being underage and proceeded to perform on the street), admits to feeling slightly petrified, as this is her first trip outside of Europe. “People here just come up to you and say whatever they think about your performance,” she says. “It’s nerve-wracking!” But thus far, the reactions to both Marling and her debut album, Alas I Cannot Swim have been incredibly positive. She’s wary of any self-congratulatory behavior, however. “My first EP London Town was rubbish,” she frets. “Don’t get me wrong, those were the songs I got signed on so I’m not trying to hide them, but they are terrible. I wrote them when I was 14, so you have to forgive me. I write bad songs sometimes.” Less than four years on and Marling has developed a style that is unlike anyone on the British music scene right now—and yes, that does include Kate Nash. “I try very hard to be something different… actually, I don’t try very hard, I am something different,” she says. “And I know there is a strong female singer/songwriter thing at the moment, but we’re all completely individual, you know?” Growing up just outside London in Eversley, Marling learned to play a multitude of instruments and counts Bonnie Prince Billy and Diane Cluck as musical influences. “My dad was a songwriter and he taught me guitar when I was five and then I took up drums and saxophone. It was my reclusion from anything else I didn’t want to do,” she admits. Having only recently moved out of her family home to London, Marling says that the partying lifestyle so many rising musicians get caught up in is not her scene. “I love going to the cinema with my boyfriend, and we listen to a lot of Radio 4. It’s all excitement,” she says wryly. Relaxed downtime is now a rare treat thanks to a hectic touring schedule in support of her second EP, My Manic and I, and Alas I Cannot Swim. While playful (“Cross your Fingers” sounds at first listen like a schoolyard chant), Marling’s lyrics and melodies belie her age and have a woeful and fatigued quality, delicately clear-cut in parts and raspy in others. “I began the album by writing “My Manic and I,” she says. “It has all the imagery I wanted—the water, the birds, death and love and everything I believe in, in one song.” Such recurring themes impart an uneasy sense of maturity—but as Marling is quick to maintain, she still has a lot to experience. “I write about love but I don’t necessarily write about the eternal sunshine that is falling in love with someone for the rest of your life. I don’t think I’m old enough to make an informed decision on that.” Staring down at her hands again, Marling worries that her songs are too sad. “I write at night, as that’s when I’m the most moody, but I would very much like to write a happy song,” she says. “Maybe I should start writing in the sunshine. It’s a lot harder to write a happy song than it is a sad song, but it’s my next challenge. I don’t want to be miserable all the time!”
For optimal viewing of this digital publication, please enable JavaScript and then refresh the page. If you would like to try to load the digital publication without using Flash Player detection, please click here.