Of the many things that seem to fall by the wayside in mainstream pop, lyrics seem to be the first to go. I don’t think I can remember the last time a song in the Top 10 had lyrics worth even a second glance, and many of them don’t even deserve the first one. I doubt even LMFAO’s staunchest defenders would be able to call the lyrics to sub-par dreck like “I’m Sexy And I Know It” interesting. Personally, I wouldn’t even call them lyrics. It’s more a song-length slogan for narcissistic clubbing, the polar opposite of something The Weeknd would come up with.
In fact, that kind of airheaded hedonism, where drinking, club-going, and casual sex are portrayed as the apex of human existence, seems to have been the flavor of the week for the past few years. While you’ll occasionally get a glimpse at the next morning’s hangover from artists like the aforementioned Weeknd, K.Flay, or The xx if you pay attention, that kind of negativity only barely manages to show up on the Billboard charts. Indeed, that kind of honesty now appears entirely alien to pop music in general, which is surprising considering a shallow look into pop history reveals that songs like Gilbert O’Sullivan’s ode to suicide, “Alone Again (Naturally)”, managed to rank as the fifth-most popular song of the 1970s (according to Casey Kasem). In my memory, only “Someone Like You” has had such direct emotional content reach the Top 10 over the past several years, though as it reminds me of a less bitter, more musically virtuosic “You Oughta Know”, and is thus not a song I hold particularly dear.
One of my goals in writing this blog is to show that no single trend, technique, or style rules over modern music as a whole. While pop music lives in a rose-colored world of tequila and one-night stands, other artists have a less sunny outlook. This doesn’t mean a glorification of pessimism or depression; the music I speak of is simply more mature. More honest, at least to my ears.
Laura Marling is almost a complete unknown in the United States, and isn’t that better known in the UK, her home nation. Though nominated twice for the Mercury Prize (losing once to Elbow and once to The xx) and later being named the Best Female Solo Artist at the 2011 Brit Awards, Marling has not come close to the international profile achieved by fellow Englishwomen PJ Harvey and Adele, largely because her genre of folk simply don’t have the same prestige it enjoyed in the 60s and early 70s. The singer-songwriter movement kicked off by Carole King in 1971 was the last gasp of folk before it faded into the darkness of the musical underground. It only survives in pop through Mumford & Sons, which makes most every music critic sigh and take the bottle to hand. The only member of that old guard that has really remained in the public eye is Leonard Cohen, whose music has steadily drifted from acoustic to synthesized.
Though Marling’s albums enjoy far superior production and virtuosity, her music, to me at least, is reminiscent of Cohen’s pre-synth era. Both share a talent with lyrics that shame the vast majority of writers from their era, and both share a melancholic view of relationships and love in general. I’m sure this is why they also share the genre of folk music, as folk puts more emphasis on poetic, remorseful lyrics than any other major genre. Like progressive rock, jazz, or metal, it demands talent and brilliance of its performers, in this case the singer/lyricist. It is also overwhelmingly made up of solo artists, probably because virtually every aspect of folk music is bent on supporting the vocal melody and generally staying a little out of the way, like a courteous secretary.
Marling’s main advantage over Cohen, then, is her voice. Her lyrics may not be superior to her Canadian counterpart’s, but I’m willing to let that one slide considering who she’s up against. Shit, if we held everyone’s lyrics up to Cohen’s standard even Dylan would have to be thrown out into the scrap heap. No, it’s Marling’s voice that allows her to truly thrive in the genre, as she conveys a musical and emotional range that dwarfs that of Cohen’s, or Dylan’s for that matter. This is hardly surprising, considering how the voices of both men are easy punchline for critics discussing them.
So maybe that’s why no one seems to discuss Marling much at all. Pitchfork’s Joshua Love devoted a fair amount of coverage to Marling’s debut (her weakest album, in my opinion) but seems to be at a loss when it comes to this album and it’s follow-up, A Creature I Don’t Know, giving a slim three paragraphs (about 500 words) to each. None of the albums appear on their annual year-end lists, though I Speak Because I Can did rank at number 8 on The Guardian’s list. Is it that difficult to speak about something so compelling and nakedly emotional? I’d think it would be the other way around.
Perhaps it’s because so little sounds like Marling’s albums these days. The album this one lost the Mercury Prize to in 2010 was The xx’s debut, an album across a wide gulf from this one in terms of sound and content. This is not to say that album wasn’t brilliant itself (I’ll likely be writing about it later on) but it’s far more in line with the artificiality and emotional distance of modern day pop. The distance appears in different ways, granted; XX takes the Kid A approach of chilled electronic music and opaque lyrics, while modern pop puts on a broad grin and spins hedonistic self-destruction and addiction as bright fireworks above a pearly city skyline. Marling’s albums tend to sound more like a direct conversation, a brutally honest description of one’s past, enlivened by metaphors and anecdotes. It’s a portrayed life far richer than one would expect from a 21-year-old. I’m a year older than her and I doubt I could write two songs as rich as Marling’s, and I certainly couldn’t hope to match her output (nearly an album a year, with her first in 2008 and her second two in 2010 and 2011).
I mentioned Adele earlier in this write-up, and I can understand if someone reading this column would be tempted to draw a comparison between her and Marling. Certainly there are connections to be made (the two women share a profound emotionality to their music, for example) but there are also several stark differences.
The easiest way to summate the gulf between the two is by saying that Marling is a folk musician, while Adele is more of a blues artist. They share the goal of conveying an emotional message, but the latter generally does so more directly, while Marling’s messages require a bit of attention. Adele is also much more miasmatic in her singing, with a loud, powerful voice that can recall Whitney Houston or Mariah Carey. This is likely why she’s far more popular than Marling, as understated vocals such as hers have been out of vogue in pop music for some time.
Is that understatement why I prefer Marling? Probably. I’ve never liked it when musicians seem to be yelling at me from my headphones as Adele, Houston, or Carey like to. I like a bit of subtlety, thank you. It’s why I love Leonard Cohen, Marling, O’Sullivan, and other understated artists coming out of the folk or singer-songwriter tradition. Bombast certainly has its place (I love blues as well) but it’s nice to have some dynamics. A little variation is all I ask/seek for, and Laura Marling certainly fits the bill.
Cheers.
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