Laura Marling – ‘Patterns in Repeat’ album review: reflections on family
THE SKINNY: Your parents are your parents, and that’s that. When you’re a child, you don’t think of them growing or maturing along with you—in fairness, that would be terrifying, you need the comforting illusion of some stable ‘adult’ in charge. When you’re an adolescent, you might see them more as ‘people’ rather than just ‘parents’, but you still don’t really reconcile their past lives before you. Once again, in fairness, they’ve changed immeasurably from what went before. Now, in motherhood herself, Laura Marling is stopping to ponder the whys and wherefores of these familial constitutions.
On her eighth album, Patterns in Repeat, Marling is both worlds apart yet more closely linked than ever to the 18-year-old she was when she first burst onto the crowded indie scene in 2008 with her debut record, Alas, I Cannot Swim. There might be more of a refined hush to the tracks, which were all largely recorded at home while her infant crawled around at her feet, capturing the homespun beauty of Syblle Baier, but there’s a recognition of the longing that drove that debut and a whiff of its folk-pop hooks, too.
With sensational, sparsely plucked guitar playing and the breeze of sweeping strings, this record, devoid of all percussion, is akin to leafing through an old photo album in a particularly thoughtful mood. Barring the odd little ambient interlude, it sports its influences unabashedly, using luscious 1969 folk tones to delve deeper into the philosophical reflection that keeps you riveted. With Marling’s natural purring voice – now beyond the point of performance, purely operating on sincerity and story – as your guide, she scales the branches of family trees and observes the weathers of loss, longing and change from a cradled canopy.
It is a short and sweet record, and though it is not always immaculate, it’s a beautiful offering of lived-in songwriting that crams much into its dainty parts, all the same. And in ‘Caroline’, it might just have one of Marling’s finest ever songs—which, in turn, makes it one of folk’s finest ever, too. In short, it is a triumph of the most heartening kind, one that treats the encroaching weeds and thistles in life’s garden with as much care as the blooming flowers.
For fans of: Weeping with a bottle of wine when your child has finally fallen asleep.
A concluding comment from Clarence Darrow in reposte: “The first half of our lives are ruined by our parents and the second half by our children.”
Patterns in Repeat track by track:
Release Date: October 25th | Producer: Laura Marling & Dom Monks | Label: Chrysalis / Partisan Records
‘Child Of Mine’: A preamble of chatter creates the impression that the stunning ode that follows just fell into place on the coffee table. Perhaps it did. After all, this is music at its most seamless and serenely stirring. [4.5/5]
‘Patterns’: Delicate and filagreed plucking sees Marling play around with solemn tunings. A ghostly song breaks out around this humble core as an echo chamber adds whooshing depth to the tale. [4/5]
‘Your Girl’: A dark and dissonant middle finger to loss. After a luscious and loving opening, the song arrives as quite a jarring shock, but that’s life, I suppose. You never know when ends will arise. Alas, it just makes that point a touch waywardly. [3.5/5]
‘No One’s Gonna Love You Like I Can’: Piano provides the leading line, offering twinkling diversity to the mix of the album. The music sounds like a wind-up box, but the words are far less fairy-like as Marling laments plans going awry and bad scenes in bars but offers hope to repel them. [4/5]
‘The Shadows’: As with everything Marling puts out, ‘The Shadows’ is graceful, dignified and beautifully performed, but for those who aren’t fans of her work, it will likely be accused of being plodding, maudlin and a bit of a drag. [2.5/5]
‘Interlude’: Interesting instrumentation that perhaps hints at a more experimental ambient future for Marling. [3.5/5]
‘Caroline’: Rolling plucking in the manner of Leonard Cohen returns the record to Marling’s staple folk stylings. In fact, the track, to some extent, feels like a journey through the best of folk from the last 60 years but far from a pastiche. There are flourishes of Paul Simon’s witticism and Bob Dylan’s melodic interplay. [5/5]
‘Looking Back’: A lament of the cramps and cranks of ageing and how the heavy burden of time is lifted by the weightlessness of love and memories of the sweetest variety. It’s a rocking chair ballad that ends in a sustained chord like the anthems of old. It’s fitting, then, that it was written by Marling’s father some 50 years ago. [4/5]
‘Lullaby’: Superb, sparse guitar work sees Marling measure the importance of silence between the notes in a distinctly Mediterranean style. Thusly, it is a lullaby of great texture and dynamics rather than something uniformly smooth. A song for an adult to drift to while trying to get their child to sleep. [3.5/5]
‘Patterns in Repeat’: Literary lyricism flows like fine prose before sweeping strings drag it towards a more melodic folk song. A song akin to the last glass of the night, mottled with overthinking. [4/5]
Never Miss A Beat
The Far Out New Music Newsletter
All the latest New Music from the independent voice of culture.
Straight to your inbox.