Laura Marling Is Britain's Brightest Hope

The first time I saw Laura Marling she was 16 years old. On a boiling hot summer's day in Brighton I found myself cramped in the basement of a venue called Sumo which no longer sits down one of the many seaside alleyways.

Jamie T was the headline act. It was a few months before his album came out. 'Back In The Game' and 'So Lonely Was The Ballad' were knocking about and the Eel Pie Island cartel were beginning their short lived rise to the top of the indie charts. It was definitely a time of diversity, a time where the odd bared their scars from under the leather-clad image of 'cool' and the left-field was welcomed. Records were gloriously under produced, dry wit was something of a welcomed counterpart to idealistic Bohemia painted by The Libs and the indie groups of this time drew the guts from pop music and added their own twist. It was the emergence of a new scene.

Yet while Good Shoes have struggled to record a second record, Larrikin disbursed for careers alongside Courtney Love and Burberry and Mystery Jets inhale from the dried up lungs of the 80s, Laura Marling, the pup of the revue, has blossomed into the most mature song writer in Britain.

Laura's third record is due out on 12th September. 'A Creature I Don't Know', as its title may hint towards, suggests that the elegant beauty is still trying to find her feet in the murky waters of folk, when in fact, this couldn't be further from the truth.

At 21 years old, Laura is certainly still growing as an artist but her records suggest that she's been an adult for some time now. The early bare folk of 'Failure' and 'New Romantic' solidified an aptitude for lyricism that drafted early comparisons to Joni and Joan Baez. Her hymnal and angelic tones, even when I first saw her, before she was legal to drink, accompanied the acoustic guitar like a brother in arms and something extremely potent was embedded in Laura's performance. Unlike the gaggle of countless other acoustic singer-songwriters, Laura has a knack for writing lyrically vibrant tales and it's like the words she sings were made just for her.



Her debut album 'Alas I Cannot Swim' showed that the young girl from Reading had a darker side to her than earlier songs like 'Mexico' led us to suggest. 'Night Terror' and 'Ghosts' portrayed a girl, wise way beyond the years that her age hints at, penning these absolutely divine musings that were both pensive and completely confessional. She had the ability to make each and every phoneme bleed with intensity and feeling, elongating that sense of unaffected and broken-hearted passion for just a snippet longer. Overall, this was a record about love and being in love. At a young age these sort of pensive ramblings can come off as entirely cliche and even sloppy in their construction - but this didn't. It was refined and paved the way for her sophomore effort.



'I Speak Because I Can' was one of the record's of 2010. While Laura's debut suggested womanhood was already upon her, 'I Speak...' dealt with it first hand. An affirmation of development, songs like 'Made By Maid', 'Rambling Man' and 'What He Wrote' were open-souled revelations to the world. The songs grew in depth and texture and Laura's style blossomed to emulate a bleaker side of folk that, when paired with her cracked words, could slice even hearts made of stone. 'I wouldn't want to lose something I couldn't save' she chirps on 'Darkness Descends'. These aren't the words of a twenty year old woman from England's forgiving lands, these are not the tentative teething steps of a young song writer, this is the sort of perfectly crafted, completely love-struct, open-wounded barrings of an individual whose life has been fraught with experience. How she conjures some of these lyrics is best left untold, but while pop music becomes sodomised by the ill-fated vampires who suck the originality from the world, Laura's words must not go unnoticed or unappreciated because, if we look to the bones of it, she is possibly the greatest female songsmith in the U.K, if not the world.

Earlier this month, the video for 'Sophia', Laura's forthcoming single, appeared online. Delicately, the song begins with melodious picking and soft hums as she states, 'Where I've been lately is no concern of yours' before gouging on tuneful conviction that builds into a slowly developing folk crescendo. As the drums begin to beat in the background, lyrics progress and build into wooing hooks with each instrument contributing wholly to the soothing tone. As the song grows in pace, the sonorous echoes mirror the advancement of the accomplished singer Laura has blossomed into. It's resplendent in its cleansed vision, sophisticated and beautifully primed, this marks the arrival of another incredible record for Britain's brightest hope.

The Duke and The King

Simon Felice has come a long way since departing from his brothers band, The Felice Brothers, some two or three years back.

Upon leaving the raspy, dust-kicking folkies, Simon embarked on a new project with a more subdued direction. The Duke and The King was his next port of call. Their debut record, 'Nothing Gold Can Stay', drew blood from The Felice Brothers more mellow moments of dreamy ambience. There were no riotous fiddles waltzing their way through drunken barn dances but there were those hints of acoustic clarity that Simon bought to the band.

Following the first Duke and The King record, their second effort was coined as having funk and gospel roots. Country music, the likes of which Simon made with his brothers, has always been influenced by the church-going realms of gospel and soul, it just transcends differently differently when sung by white boys on washboards and acoustic guitars.

Self recorded in a woodland area north of New York, Simon was joined by Nowell "The Deacon" Haskins and Simi Stone to make an album that would go on to fuse the funkadelic vibes of Sly and The Family Stone with the harmonious properties of CSNY. The results are sublime as Simon and his new band ring out the blues like seasoned professionals.

06 The Duke & The King - Hudson River by CBSIMG

Beatitudes - Mary

A new Southampton band to feast upon...

I'm weak at the knees for Beatitudes pensive musings. ‘Mary’, a self-recorded swoon from the Hampshire based band will have the quivering lust-fuelled lovers opening their weary hearts to all passers by via its over-coming melody that calls on Etta James and new Duke and The King material. While high school dances might not always end in romance fuelled exchanges across the virgin punch bowl, this 50s influenced twang of desire will soundtrack the heartache perfectly. And to get over it? Try ‘Seismic Magnitude’, a wobbly indie-pop husk that counteracts its woeful predecessor with glitzy charm and a faster pace to brush away those tears.

Mary by Beatitudes

Life In Film - The Idiot

London's Life In Film have been grafting the capitals gigging circuit for some time now. Around three years, I think. It's a God damn minefield out there. Promoters are slack and uninterested, money is elusive, breaks are hard to come by - each turn presents a new problem, yet they keep on plugging and thank God for that.

The two striking attributes that launch Life In Film above the rest of the London indie cartel is their distinct Steadman-like melodies and their richly vibrant vocals. Earlier songs, 'Get Closer' and 'Sorry', demonstrated that pop hooks are not a problem for these guys, and after Christopher Bailey approached the band to film a video at the Burberry store in Milan, the high life beacons for Life In Film.

The War On Drugs

I had only heard this record yesterday but reviews from Uncut and comparisons towards Springsteen sparked intrigue that was matched by the adhesive gaze of this Americana beauty. Although Kurt Vile, whose 'Smoke Ring For My Halo' is one of this year's best records, left at the end of 2008, his lo-fi inflictions still remain, with 'Baby Missiles' in particular, demonstrating that Tom Petty's 'American Girl' also had its part to play. Also, if Vile's sound can be coined as Philadelphian then so can The War On Drugs. A dreamy and expansive record that continues to thrust and drive from start to finish.

Some Summer Songs

Whenever the sun casts its rays upon the numb matter that sits beneath it, the pop bands of the world feel obliged to repay these mysterious Gods of rare-casting light by hounding out ‘songs of summer’, or something equally as droll.

The last time we had a band trying to replicate the tan lines of the glory days it was The Drums, who, it turned out, made an entire record comprised of the same song at slightly different speeds. Then apparently The Vaccines were placed on this earth to rid the pop spectrum of pretension via three-minute bubbles of chipper distortion and optimistic wailings that were over quicker than a horny teen’s first trip to Amsterdam. What both these bands failed to do, in any sense, was inject an element of surprise into the predictable mix, thus being under-whelmed is something we’ve come to expect from these marketed mugs. Lacklustre and safe seem to be the objectives of these unambitious, grin-bearing smart arses.

What we really want is a little filth. You can be poppy with being grubby, and adding little rough to the glitter ball gives it character, the likes of which the comfortable players on the scene fear more than anything.

So to commemorate those who are trying to strut with a little more pout and prowess, I’ve got a handful of slacker-popisms here that adorn to the three-minute demographic and hook-heavy chirps of idealistic pop but aren’t afraid to put their nuts on the chopping block.

Gross Magic - Teen Jamz


Possibly the best band to come out of Brighton in a long time, Gross Magic are the lank-haired, weed-smoking, fuzz-crafting layabouts who provide the missing link between Teenage Fanclub, The Lemonheads and Dinosaur Jr. The brainchild of Sam McGarrigle, Gross Magic’s brazen and edgy rhythms chug down fuzz like a litre of free Slush Puppy while dreamy lyricism clips the ear of Smith Western’s and tells Cloud Nothings they’re a bunch of losers. Their debut e.p, ‘Teen Jamz’ is a reet belter.

Gross Magic - Teen Jamz EP by TheSoundsOfSweetNothing

Ganglians - Drop The Act


This Californian four-piece couldn’t be more, well, Californian. The static production of their group echoes make the Drums sound like urban monkeys chasing stray cats down alley ways. There’s glints of buoyancy sweeping through the waves of lo-fi surf that take ‘Drop The Act’ and place it upon a plinth of righteous perfection, dude.

Ganglians - Drop The Act by souterraintransmissions

Blitzen Trapper - Love The Way You Walk Away


Not quite as wave-laden as the first two, Blitzen Trapper’s husky swell has a country tinge to it, reminiscent of Roman Candle and Neutral Milk Hotel. ‘I‘ve been feeling hard to get, like a dog hiding down underneath the step’ coo the alt-folk Oregon collective, unashamedly brandishing a yearning sense of acceptance when the tagline, ‘I love the way you walk away’ hits, re-opening all the broken souls that have ever dealt with such downtrodden beatings.

Blitzen Trapper - Love The Way You Walk Away by subpop

The Music. My Band

The first time I saw The Music was with my Dad at The Forum in Kentish town. The show occurred just before their second record was released, and it was a night that changed my perspective on music forever.

I had been to shows before. I had just hit 17 years old and I was really starting to get into music. It was a winter night when we went to see them, I don’t quite remember the date but I remember the show clearly. The band played songs from their debut record, which I had not really heard, and about half of the second album, I remember ‘Breakin‘ was being played on the TV quite a bit (ironic considering it‘s possibly their weakest tune). I always had a prudish attitude towards live music that I’d never heard because part of the fulfilment for me was singing along to the words and burying myself into the vibe of the tunes. That night, however, my cynicism was disbanded beneath the glare of The Music’s combustible indie-dance that span webs of noise throughout the venue and my mind, in equal measures.



In a short space of time I became absolutely hooked with the band. I had never quite heard anything like it before, nor since. The undeniable groove that cascaded the underbelly of these fiery riffs and Plant-like vocals that reached the top of mountains, howling side by side with Gods - it was the most untouchable, authentic and mind-blowing rock and roll that I had ever come across.

It must have been around 2004, something like that. Pretty soon, once my Dad realised my adoration for this band, it became an occasion, as many times a year as we could, to go and see this band play all over the country. I’ve seen them in London countless times, Leeds three times and Sheffield once, quite far considering I live in Brighton, but in retrospect, I would travel to the ends of the fucking earth to see them one more time.

Something thing that hit about The Music were there fans. While we’d travel all over the place, there were people who had always travelled further. I always recognised faces at the shows, the same people there to catch the same buzz that I was after. Even at University, once I found out someone liked The Music, whoever they were, I felt like I could talk to them for hours about the intricacies of ‘The Walls Get Smaller’ or ‘Raindance‘ - I never usually saw them again though, ha. There has always been that bond between fans that I have never encountered any where else. No pretension, no gimmicks, nothing to prove. It was as real as it got. Dedication at its rawest.

One of the highlights for me, as well as a Cockpit show, I remember seeing the band at the Brunel Social Club in 2009. This scraggy hub in the centre of a dodgy looking estate seemed the most unlikeliest of places for a rock show to happen but it couldn’t have been more fitting - a band of the people, playing for The People. Always expect the unexpected, yet always expect to be wowed. The quality of the sound in that venue was crystal while the cheap drinks and a support slot from The Mouth made it one of the greatest nights of music that I have ever witnessed. Consistency seemed to be something The Music have never had an issue with.

It has always baffled me why The Music have lacked further commercial success, owing to the fact that they make the most anthemic, face-melting indie-rock of my generation, yet, as I always go back to, I’m glad I’ve got to share these revolutionary nights with people whose faces I know yet their lives remain a mystery to me, much like the band. And in a way, I’m glad they remained relatively untouched. They always came out and spoke to the fans after the show, and it wasn’t like a celebrity had walked into the room, it was simply, ‘Oh look there’s Rob’, despite the fact that these four men from Leeds were heroes to many. Untouchable on stage, up for a drink afterwards.



The undeniable mysticism behind the sublime etherealism of ‘Too High’, ‘Disco’ and ‘The Dance’ was unconventional yet completely perfect, to me. The music towered above anything I’ve heard, emotionally rich and rife in the sort of potency that should make modern rock bands think, ‘why bother?’. ‘Welcome to the North’, ‘Freedom Fighters’ and ‘Bleed From Within’ followed with an amped-up fervour that was a little less ‘acid-doused’ than their debut but equally vibrant. Although album number three didn’t quite punch with the strength I was hoping for, ‘Drugs’ and ‘The Spike’ were strobe-heavy anthems that still rise above the majority of modern music. The still had the flair. I’m not disowning that record, it’s just impossible to follow up their first, I think most will agree.

And when I think about ‘The Music’, album number one, I know it’s something I will go back to for the rest of my life, no matter how many times I’ve already listened to it, it will be there, sound tracking my existence forever. It embodies the underdog and the good times. It represents the talent of this country and the unspoken heroes of music who will never be rewarded yet require no reward but acceptance. It represents me, everyone who ever went to the shows, every night you’ve ever listened to that album.



I went to their second to last show in Leeds on 5th August 2011. I wanted to see them out on their home turf, the same way I’ve followed them for the past six or so years. Looking back on it, there was no better way to end. The set list was perfect, the lights were perfect, the band were perfect. I was almost in tears as I thought ‘this will never happen again’ when the closing reverb of ‘The Walls Get Smaller’ faded into the abyss. Never. Never again will I go out with my Dad and my friends and the friends I don’t know to see this band that mean so much to me. It’s sad, but it’s best to go out on a high, and there was no higher point than that. So, here’s to The Music - My band. Our band.