Laura Marling and her charming darlings take over a Philadelphia chapel

September 17, 2008, at First Unitarian Church

By Tara Murtha
Published: September 21st, 2008 | 10:35pm

The students next to me in the front pew of the First Unitarian Church in Philadelphia could barely keep their excitement from spilling all over their neatly pressed clothes. I had spent all day listening to Laura Marling’s “Songbox” on her website and watching the cool stop-animation videos, so I knew where they were coming from. Meanwhile, I didn’t even know about the band.

“Have you seen Mumford and Sons?” they implored, all six English eyebrows knit into one earnest quilt of inquisition, leaning in. “I go to his MySpace and listen to them, like, at least once a week,” the gentleman added before sitting back in his pew like a proper churchgoer. When Mumford and Sons assembled on the tiny, altar-space stage to open for Marling, I saw they knew what they were talking about.

The tiny side chapel is stacked only nine pews deep that fit three to four people on each side. The night’s show was sold out. Latecomers sat Indian-style in the middle of the aisle, staring up at the four altar boys taking the stage. Despite all being Brits, Mumford and Sons were dressed like slacker Seattleites stuck in 1994, an impression that faded away once they performed.

Four-part a cappella harmony sandwiched songs anchored to the floor with percussion banged out on well-worn dress shoes that no wife would allow. They jangled out modern roots–driven folk tunes that are honest, moving, and sometimes downright exuberant.

After a quick set, Winston “Mumford” thanked the audience. “It’s not the largest place we’ve been on tour. But it’s the most tender — and I think that suits the vibe, so, enjoy then,” he said before departing stage.

Next, Laura Marling arrived and we realized that Mumford and Sons were on double duty as Marling’s backing band. Marling, so pale she was literally glowing under the church lights, carefully slid a guitar around her neck. “We’re Laura Marling, and we’re going to entertain you for a while,” she saied with a little laugh, before breaking into “Ghosts.”

“Ghosts” is folk rock laced with dark ribbons of cynicism. As the 18-year-old Marling sang “Lover, please/ do not fall to your knees/ It’s not as if I believe/ in everlasting love” over and over, the pace and urgency swelled and crested until it shattered into glittering percussion.

Marling doesn’t play typical-frontwoman A-chord, C-chord rhythm guitar — her chord changes form the songs’ knotty spinal columns. Ballerina flat barely tapping the floor, Marling stared at the ceiling as she performed and stayed stoic until each song broke. When it was safe, she smiled.

Marling and the boys swanned through more standout songs off her startlingly beautiful debut album, Alas, I Can Not Swim (Astralwerks), like the haunting “My Manic and I” (steeped in the Will Oldham school of songwriting), “Night Terror,” and “Crawled Out of the Sea,” a sprawling, lush waltzy epic that rose to the ceiling of the tiny chapel as if Marling’s breath was helium. Vocal comparisons flit like zoetrope scenes: Chrissie Hynde, PJ Harvey, Beth Orton, but Marling’s voice is too fluid, strong, and defined to get tagged with an easy Hollywood hook.