I Speak Because I Can

Her second album is an enchanting collection of beautifully raw songs, the faint trace of tape-hiss in the quieter moments combined with the rootsy feel of songs.

I Speak Because I Can remains a stunning performance to leave haircuts and ex-boyfriends alike trailing in its wake.

Where the album triumphs though is the crystalline clarity of the songs, their titanic emotional wallop and Marling's quite exquisite delivery.

With I Speak Because I Can, that argument may now end. Though just 20, it doesn't appear within her scope to make an outright bad album, and here we are shown a few more glimpses of her gift, but yet not an overwhelming outpouring of it.

Her sophomore effort, I Speak Because I Can, finds Marling, still only 20, shrugging off virtually all traces of girlishness and wide-eyed charm, instead delving into darkly elemental, frequently morbid folk. And yet, astonishingly, the expected growing pains never come.

She found it in herself to make yet another gorgeous, melancholy, old-souled record.

The result is her first triumph: a collection of literary and emotional songs to have you whooping with joy or fighting off tears, with tunes that deliver new riches with each listen.

I Speak Because I Can delivers on nearly every level, upping both the production value (thanks to Ryan Adams and Kings of Leon producer Ethan Johns and fellow indie folk darlings Mumford & Sons) and the songwriting.

I Speak Because I Can is, without doubt, an album to really delve into, and one to lose yourself in for hours. Added to that, it asserts Marling as one of this country's most talented young songwriters; our Conor Oberst or our David Berman.

Her stormy folk songs (which, on occasion, recall PJ Harvey's) are primal and dark, crammed with ancient mythology and portentous warnings.

I Speak Because I Can is composed of mature, sophisticated but relatable songs, performed as only Marling can perform them, showcasing not only a broader vocal range and more intricate guitar parts than on her previous album, but a new breadth of experience, resulting in a balanced album that can sound as enshrouded in shadow as it does enlightened.

At her best, she takes PJ Harvey and Nick Drake back to their primordial folk roots, evoking mean sex in overgrown glens and casual farmhand violence.

Marling combines craft, instinct, and emotion for a collection of tunes that showcase a variety of mostly acoustic moods but coalesce into a hushed, beguiling whole.

What makes Marling engaging is that her music presents scenarios without deliberately sounding like poetry or art. Her songs do not emphasize the beauty of sounds or musicality of words so much as clip insightful observations from conversations.

I Speak Because I Can feels more professional than its predecessor, yet the album as a whole fails to capture the emotional power of Alas, I Cannot Swim.

I Can maintains its mystery and poetic obfuscation upon repeat listens. I Can would make for sublime coffee-shop fodder, except that Marling's music and especially her exquisitely wrought words reward,

Marling's sophomore album takes that template [in "Alas I Cannot Swim"] and over it foward with grace, sorrow, and maturity. [Spring 2010, p.70]

Marling's second album is one of staggering maturity. An old-school folk album of the best sort. [Apr 2010, p.92]

On I Speak Because I Can, her great leap forward after 2008's captivating Mercury-nominated debut, Marling deploys an archaic folk patois with convincing gravitas. [Apr 2010, p.118]