Review: Laura Marling @ The Forum, Melbourne


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Whilst the likes of Adele and Lily Allen have spearheaded the evolution of a new kind of femme fatale; a convoy of women who fiercely resent the sexually manufactured agendas that have plagued record labels for years, Laura Marling, the most graceful and divine English singer-songwriter to emerge since Kate Bush, seems content on sidling into her own state of semi-oblivion, where she does her own thing, her own way, in a classical style that could flourish in any era.

A bold folk centurion for the internet age, unnerved by both decadence and posterity, Marling, at just twenty-two years (judging by frequent call-outs of “Happy birthday Laura!”, she only hit that age recently), has already carved her own place amongst the highest echelon of modern songwriters. With three albums and a unique legacy rapidly forming under her name, a packed house at Melbourne’s Forum Theatre greeted her arrival as if she were a songstress sent from the gods. And judging by the classical Greek architecture that coats the sides of the stage, it was hard to think otherwise.

Embarking on her biggest headline tour down under yet, Marling incited a wellspring reaction from the diverse crowd, politely gliding onto the stage in tow of her eclectic band, as if she could hardly believe that yes, she was the main attraction that we had come to see. Draped in plain olive attire that belied the sudden gasps the audience bestowed on her voice, Marling and co. were quick to launch into the jostling folk number ‘I Was Just a Card’, before stirring renditions of ‘The Muse’, and sing-along ‘Ghosts’ truly kicked the show into gear.

Whilst Marling’s ethereal voice threatened to shake the very walls of the theatre to the ground with each swift throng of her spooky vibrato, her shy character and modest stage banter in between provided for a peculiar contrast of sorts, revealing her as a delicate creature, cheekily smiling every time the audience would crow and salute her presence. After recounting stories from past shows she had played in Melbourne, in which she apologized to the crowd for talking too much, the band left her to perform on her own, spotlight focused with her guitar in hand, and her golden voice on show.

Such a chilling environment perfectly suited the enchanting wintry pluck of ‘Goodbye England’, to which Marling simply said “It’s snowing in England now,” upon its conclusion, as if to set the record straight to anyone who couldn’t comprehend the thought of snow in the middle of an Australian summer. A virtuous rendition of a Ryan Adams, song ‘Winding Wheel’, and an untitled new song followed, before the backing band were gladly welcomed back onto to the stage to close the set.

After a rousing performance of ‘Sophia’, Marling sipped champagne with a wry grin spread across her face, before telling each member of her band to enlighten the audience with an interesting fact that they had recently learnt. In between roars of laughter from the receptive crowd, Marling’s guitarist set upon informing us everything he knew about Jupiter’s most fertile moon, Europa, whilst the drummer set upon condemning the harsh and unforgiving nature of the Australian sun.

Once the courteous introduction of each band member drew to a close, crowd pleasers ‘Alas, I Cannot Swim’ and ‘I Speak Because I Can’ were played with terrific force and energy. After instructing the audience that there would be no encore, purely because of her own dislike for the hoary old rock practice, A Creature I Don’t Knows closer, ‘All My Rage’, brought the gig to a triumphant climax, the meandering beauty of Marling’s voice resting upon the audience’s choral unison wonderfully. As swiftly as she appeared, Marling pranced off the stage before disappearing altogether.

That the show had drawn to a close wasn’t an issue, the reverberating echo of her voice, the power left behind in the stead of her impassioned performance, meant that the theatre was bubbling with a charming air of grace and purity long after the lights had dimmed, and long after the speakers had muted.



(Raphael Hall)


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One Response

  1. Sue 7 February, 2012