CD offers lasting feel

BEASTS OF SEASON
Laura Gibson
Indie
8-out-of-10

A good rope, as we all know, is made of many tiny strands of very strong material, individually fragile but extremely strong when woven together. Continually twisting around each other these strands create something that is capable of holding hundreds of times its weight. This same building principle applies to Laura Gibson's 2009 release "Beasts of Season".

Gibson's tender, thin, airy voice is accompanied by an equally fragile classical guitar, which is then weaved with a breathy woodwind section and bright horn ensemble that form larger cords of the rope. The percussion and string section on this album are the weights at the bottom of the rope stretching and pulling all of the strands closer yet. Each sound is so slight but when they come together, the result is a thick and balanced wall of sound.

When you listen to the album's opening track "Shadows on Parade", it is easy to picture this process of weaving and winding. Each track follows this formula. Several ropes beginning and ending, being tied together and being cut apart, fraying at the end.

They say that Laura moved into a house next to a cemetery, in which she wrote this album. I have to say this story is true. "Beasts of Season" is an eerie collection of songs. It almost takes on the physical sense of a cemetery. It's peaceful and easy and in many strange ways, comforting.

If I have one complaint about "Beast of Season", it is that it seems to take forever. Maybe that's only my modern sense of time talking. I suppose it's a good thing to take the time to listen to an album front to back without distraction. I often reserve this album for lighting storms, where I grab my favorite beverage, sit close to a window and enjoy the experience of the storm and this album playing together. Forming an even stronger rope. I suggest you try this at least once.

- SEAN CRAIB-PETKAU

A CREATURE I DON'T KNOW
Laura Marling
Indie
8-out-of-10

My friends and I refer to Laura Marling as "the female Nick Drake" and even sometimes "more Joni Mitchell than Joni Mitchell was". She is an unearthly paradox. As someone born in 1990 and grew up in this constantly connected generation, her music reflects nothing of who she should be. It's distance and disconnect from anything modern reveals Marling's true calling as a medium for musicians passed.

The maturity of "A Creature I Don't Know" didn't surprise me. Having heard, and loved, her previous two albums I got the feeling for Marling's style of song writing and her ability to transport herself into characters and scenes that could have existed centuries ago or yesterday. She holds a complete disregard for investing more of her personality into her writing. It's unclear whether these words are coming from 21-year-old woman, or an immortal soul with a story to tell. And this creates a great paradox for the listener. Her music is familiar yet foreign, comfortable yet off-putting.

Each track on "A Creature I Don't Know" sets a different character and story to tell. Marling occupies each role convincingly, transforming herself throughout the album. The performance of each track is very commanding and direct. Each accompaniment molding perfectly with the lyrics and story told. Marling's presence also weighs heavily on each track whether she's escorted by hushed piano or a storm of electric guitars and drums. Marling's theatrical and smug vocal performance seems to indicate she already has the answers that she's looking for in the songs; as though an omnipresent being is telling only half the story.

"A Creature I Don't Know" (along with Marling's other records) demands quite the investment from the listener. It takes time to decipher the meanings and unravel the stories being woven by this unearthly songstress. It is best enjoyed on a chilly afternoon, on repeat, with a pot of tea.

- SEAN CRAIB-PETKAU