Once I Was an Eagle

It’s easily the most charming she’s ever been--she's no master hunter, but she doesn't need to be.

There are two primary things that make Once I Was An Eagle take flight: Lyrics and progression, which together make the album intelligent, confident, and, perhaps most importantly, recursive.

Everything feels full and complete, with each song taking a life of it’s own, while still contributing equally as much to the larger concept.

Once I Was An Eagle represents a bold, adventurous step forward that’s resulted in her most fulfilling work yet.

Once I Was an Eagle is a singular achievement: a haunting record, peopled with aural ghosts that come gradually crawling from out of the grooves.

It’s expansive and ambitious, and divorced of all the tweedy preening and aw-shucks raggediness the idea of “folk” has accumulated in recent years. It's dark, it’s angry, it’s even sexy, in a sly, subtle way.

Eagle is definitely Marling’s most considered work, and most of that comes simply from the fact she’s stripped away a lot of the decoration, and yet ultimately it feels easy for her, if not a little predictable.

Once I Was an Eagle is a bold work that, in theory, shouldn’t work--a lengthy, near-concept album about emotional availability--but Marling makes it into one of the year’s essential releases.

Although the songs carry recurring tropes of eagles, devils and the sea, as well as her signature intricate guitar picking, the most haunting aspect is--considering this accomplishment--realizing the potential that is yet to come.

It's a warm, lightly psychedelic sound reminiscent of British strum god Bert Jansch and the quieter moments on Led Zeppelin III, less a soundtrack for Sunday brunch and more a place to get lost in, though our host herself isn't interested in hiding.

Both as a songwriter and as a performer, Laura Marling has never soared so majestically.

The result is not only her most honest and personal album to date but also her most affecting.

You’d be hard-pressed to name another songwriter who sounded so fully formed at such a tender age.

For its cohesive tone and the ease with which it plumbs the darkest recesses of Marling's consciousness, Once I Was an Eagle is close to a masterpiece, a heavenly composition with just enough hell to keep things from feeling too familiar.

Everything just gets better and better with Marling.

Her voice is the headliner: Miked so close you can smell the cigarettes on her breath, it's sultry, wise, rueful and unapologetic, connecting a 1960s singer-songwriter tradition to the ache of the now.

With Once I Was An Eagle, she's finally made a record that matches the magnitude of her vision, and puts her well ahead of almost any twentysomething singer-songwriter peer working today.

Once I Was An Eagle sets a high bar.

With a lilting piano, soft strums, and the pats of a bongo at most, Once I Was An Eagle strips the art of Marling down to her barest.

Marling is an old soul through and through, and her remarkably timeless voice, idiosyncratic lyrics, and increasingly impressive guitar chops help to elevate the album's less immediate moments, and while some may argue that her increasingly Americanized, Pacific coast folk-pop can feel a little like fan fiction, it doesn't make it any less enjoyable to sink your toes into.

Eagle is a master class in creation.

While her peers may be filling arenas with banjo anthems, Marling has long freed herself from that particular pigeonhole and presents another collection of songs that showcases her astounding talent.

Once I Was An Eagle is Marling's most fully-realized release yet, a quasi-conceptual record that traces a path from naivety through harsh experience and eventually to consequent enlightenment.

The narrative drawn by Marling throughout is at times heart-stopping, segues and recurrent motifs creating effortless enjambment.

Once I Was an Eagle is a work that demands to be taken as a whole, another reminder of the peculiar power of the album form, despite frequent premature declarations of its redundancy.

Marling has delivered Once I Was an Eagle with a charisma lacking in most of her peers, and the poise of a far older hand.

Once I Was An Eagle is a masterpiece, and, at 23, she’s still only getting started.

There are a couple of moments where she still feels like the sum total of a very tasteful record collection, where she struggles to make herself heard over the echoes of Joni Mitchell and Dylan's thin wild mercury sound. More often, though, she cuts through her influences, and rings out loud and clear; when she does, it's a very diverting sound indeed.

It’s a work that’s beautifully single minded, but may be a little too much of an undertaking for some. What’s inescapable is that it’s the sound of a person bravely questioning her place in the world, often in inspired fashion.

It’s the longest and best Laura Marling record yet.

Rarely since the Laurel Canyon heyday of CSNY, Jackson Browne et al, has the confessional mode been quite so unashamedly mined for artistic ore. [Jun 2013, p.68]

As well executed as the latter half is, it can feel a mite unsatisfying compared to the stripped-down stuff that sits at the top of the album. [Jun 2013, p.85]

Once I Was An Eagle is entirely Laura Marling's trip--beautiful, heartfelt, searching, sublime, and thrillingly open-ended. [Jun 2013, p.92]

Without doubt, this is one of the folk albums of the year.