Reviewed on Tuesday October 20 (photo by Katrina Clarke)
It’s difficult to be impartial with a songwriter of such renown. Any stumble in their performance or disconnect with the audience can be readily swept away by your own deep-seated affection for the performer. Approaching someone like Laura Marling, whose live performance is somewhat pre-empted by a reputation of glum artisanship, you’re expecting a songwriter of extraordinary craft who looks like they accidentally just stepped on a puppy.
Greeted by a rapturous crowd, the Marling we encountered at the Enmore was a singer utterly engrossed in her music and happily at ease. In a set spanning the entirety of her writing, the night began with a familiar medley of ‘Take The Night Off’/‘I Was An Eagle’/‘You Know’, which in truth had several audience members slightly perturbed. Strong as these were, it is an identical pattern to how she last played Sydney, and has become symptomatic of her sets in general. It raises an interesting question of how beholden musicians are to shake up their setlist in an online age, but one that was swiftly forgotten as Marling began showcasing surprise additions from her debut album (we were all hoping for ‘Ghosts’, but I don’t think many actually believed it would appear until it did) and key tracks from her most recent, Short Movie.
Indeed, the performance was characterised not only by Marling’s incredible voice, but the scope of songs. ‘Salinas’ and ‘Sophia’ gave full reign to the power and nuance of her vocals, while the breathtaking delicacy (yes, yes, I know I’m waxing lyrical) of ‘Goodbye England (Covered In Snow)’ made for an unforgettable highlight. ‘Goodbye England’ was also noteworthy in that it saw Marling open up on the history of the song, and gave fine insight into not only the development of her writing, but the technical and emotional practicalities of her composition (the tuning, incidentally, is her father’s favourite).
It was also a night of unexpected covers, from Dolly Parton’s ‘Do I Ever Cross Your Mind’ to an old and very welcome favourite, Jackson C Frank’s ‘Blues Run The Game’.
How impartial can I be? Well, there was the odd forgotten or flubbed word, and here and there she skipped a line completely. But in truth, I was astounded. Stunned by lyrics of such beauty, by a voice that summons them with such tremulous, enduring life. Marling seemed happy to be there. We were all happy, too.
