British folk artist Laura Marling went against the current to release her latest album, "Songs for Our Daughter," a much-needed moment of calm amidst the storm. 

In the wake of the coronavirus pandemic, many musicians have decided to postpone their albums until the dust settles. Some recording artists feel that the climate isn’t quite ripe for introducing new music into the world. But not for Laura Marling. For her, the timing is just right. In a welcome respite, the British folk singer announced in an Instagram post last week that she would release her seventh studio album, Songs for Our Daughter, ahead of schedule. 

In her statement, she wrote: “In light of the change to all our circumstances, I saw no reason to hold back on something that, at the very least, might entertain, and at its best, provide some sense of union.” Marling released the single “Held Down,” a laidback folk-rock track earlier this week before releasing the album on April 10. I’m glad she didn’t hold back.

Songs for Our Daughter is her most intimate album yet. It’s a concept album, albeit with narrative gaps, presented as a letter of advice to her imaginary daughter. Her enchanting sound is a balm for the current moment--a sophisticated bright spot in a dark and unraveling world, glowing with rich string arrangements and shrewd storytelling that draws obvious comparisons to Joni Mitchell. Her lyrics are emotive without cloying. On the more melancholy “Blow to Blow,” Marling sings hope into existence: “No one was prepared / but we all performed / like we’d done it all before.” Today, it reads as premonitory. 

Removed from the noise of the outside world, Songs dwells in the quiet. Marling opts for minimal instrumentation, backed on most tracks only by her acoustic guitar and subdued strings. The stripped-down percussion leaves more room for her voice to linger as an afterthought. She weaves malleably through tender melodies, her voice ringing and dropping off with a bell-like timbre. On Songs, she evokes '70s folk-rock melodies more than ever. On the more pop-minded “Strange Girl,” she mimics a blasé speak-sing drawl that feels almost Lou Reed to me, as she trails off at the end of phrasing into a flattened tenor.

Marling uses this sonic vocabulary to explore the messy web of femininity. On “Strange Girl,” she issues an advisory message to girls and women everywhere: “Woke up in a country who refused to hold your hand / keep falling for narcissists who insist you call them ‘man’.” Her heart breaks for the young girls who have been robbed of their innocence, wishing she could do something to ease their suffering. The title track is a soft ballad that reads like a letter to her past self: “So you wished for a kiss from God / and you mourned in your childishness / innocence gone but it’s not forgot.” 

Retrospective musings give way to heavier odes like the bittersweet final parting detailed in “The End of the Affair” and the country-tinged “Hope We Meet Again.” At times, it’s unclear who she’s speaking to and the distinction between character and narrator blurs. The reader of the album’s “letter” is presumably a figurative child, but this becomes confused with Marling’s younger self. Good advice almost always derives from personal experience, so it only makes sense that she would draw on her own lived experiences to console the child within her. 

Songs For Our Daughter is a warm squeeze of the hand. It brims with a kind of quiet confidence but is never overreaching. Marling, who just turned 30 in February, is confident that she has wisdom to impart. She allows dialogue to exist alongside the quiet.

The album feels removed from any particular place and time, cocooning inward on itself. While the storm rages on outside, her voice is a great comfort.