Album Review: Laura Marling, 'I Speak Because I Can'

Laura Marling strikes you as someone not just from another era but from another world. Elfin faced and pixie framed; to place her in the ancient, woodland-covered England of her songs would probably be to see the 20 year old burnt at the stake as a witch, such is her uncanny talent. Here, like some 21st century Emily Dickinson, she transfigures herself variously from daughter, to lover, to wife or mother; yet, crucially, a sense that these songs are deeply personal to her prevails. Album opener 'Devil's Spoke' sounds like a delirious incantation after which you half expect the youngster to collapse in exhaustion; but instead she follows with nine (albeit slower) tracks that are at once enchanting and haunting. 'Rambling Man' is probably her finest contribution to music thus far- on first listening it sounds like Joan Baez covering a Dylan standard- though the brilliant lyrics- 'beaten, battered and cold/ my children will live just to grow old'- are all her own. The infectious 'Blackberry Stone' is brilliant too, whilst the Beirut-ish Balkan breakdown on 'Alpha Shallows' and the bluegrassy fast-pace of 'Darkness Descends' tick that all important versatility box for the snottier critics. And then, like that devil-spoked wheel, the album is bought full-circle with closer 'I Speak Because I Can'- a slower but still just as epic version of 'Devil's Spoke'. This is undeniably great, great music; and the strides she has made musically and lyrically from her already accomplished début offering are vast. Frighteningly too, this is probably not her magnum opus. Like they used to with witches; we would do very well to keep an eye on Laura Marling. 9/10

Album Review: Frightened Rabbit, 'The Winter Of Mixed Drinks'

Perhaps it's something in that thick Selkirk accent, but Scott Hutchinson certainly has a knack for sounding genuinely sincere. Whilst the Scotsman might be keen to point out he's 'Not Miserable' now, some two years after the release of the emotive and critically acclaimed 'Midnight Organ Fight' he's clearly just as willing to wear his heart on his song.
These tracks are, however, largely more upbeat than the previous album, as they needed to be- and the music is all the more accessible because of it. 'Nothing Like You' is destined for repeated radio-airplay, whilst 'Swim Until You Can't See Land' is an ear worm just waiting to burrow.
That is not to say Frightened Rabbit have sold out. The album shares so much with 'Midnight Organ Fight' that at times it serves simply as a cheerier resolution to the depression of its predecessor. The relationship between 'Man/Bag Of Sand' and 'Swim Until You Can't See Land'- the former a parred and slowed down version of the latter- is identical to the one between 'Extrasupervery' and 'The Twist' on the previous album. For 'Living In Colour' see 'Old Old Fashioned'. And whilst an apparent fixation with body parts that's carried from the last album leaves 'Living In Colour' feeling a bit like the 'Funny Bones' song, there's little to criticize here- Frightened Rabbit have, almost impossibly, gone one better than their last effort. 8/10

Album Review: Johnny Cash, 'American VI: Ain't No Grave'

Ain’t No Grave, it seems, that's gonna stop Johnny Cash from releasing music; and whilst for some the faint sound of a barrel being scraped might never be entirely muted here, this second posthumous release certainly does its job.
A fitting and emotional closure to the 'American Recordings', like most of the series this is essentially a covers album- but 'Ain't No Grave' is the soundtrack of a man of unshakable faith. The title track might recall 'God's Gonna Cut You Down' with its stomp-clap downbeat, but where the latter dealt with accepting death, 'Ain't No Grave' is the sound of someone who knows he's heaven-bound. Whist Cash's voice might have attenuated to that of a frail and dying man, these songs remain defiant and hopeful- 'hope springs eternal' on 'I Corninthians 15:55', time has 'opened the door' to freedom on 'I Don't Hurt Anymore', whilst on 'Satisfied Mind' Cash states that he'll 'leave this old world' content. The album's most poignant moment is a beautiful adaptation of ‘Aloha Oe’- almost tear inducing in its sincerity- and one would be hard pushed to think of a more fitting line to close the recording career of a man clearly of such staunch religious faith than 'until we meet again'. 8/10