Laura Marling’s eighth studio album, Patterns in Repeat, is inspired by the birth of her daughter and the singer-songwriter’s initiation into motherhood, but still covers broad thematic ground. Throughout the venture, Marling reflects on her life and the world she has brought her child into, translating myriad questions, memories, hopes, and anxieties into a series of beguiling yet accessible songs

On the album opener, Child of Mine, Marling’s intimate voice and softly plucked guitar ooze maternal contentment that risks curdling into sickly sweetness, especially in a song employing mellotron and strings to summon the protection of angels. But there’s something about the dryness of her delivery and clarity of observation that evokes a complex array of emotions, including joy, privilege and fear, all rolled into a sense of wonder any parent will recognise: “Last night in your sleep you started crying / I can’t protect you there, though I keep trying …”

The track sets the stage for her forays down various descriptive and narrative rabbit holes. This includes Patterns, a portrait of a ballerina named Zena. Functioning like a flipbook, the song portrays a handful of well-executed strokes illustrating how each of us, without exception, is subject to ageing and the decline of the body

In Patterns in Repeat, Marling puts her signature steaminess on the backburner but makes up for it with an emphasis on lyrical subtleties. On the one hand, the breathy Your Girl portrays a love affair that never came to fruition, but on the other, it could be regarded as a tribute to an imaginary friend or even a part of Marling’s personality. Either way, the track emerges from Marling’s desire to resolve internal conflicts and mirror positive values as a parent. If we want to impart wholeness to our children, she might agree, we have to seek that wholeness for ourselves

The ‘you’ in No One’s Gonna Love You Like I Can is similarly elusive. Is Marling alluding to an on-again, off-again lover or a part of herself with which she can’t reconcile? Complemented by thin piano and strings, the mix brings a VHS home video to mind. The Shadows features mesmerising melodies and stellar lyricism, and, despite Interlude (Time Passages) being an instrumental, Marling captures precisely what the title implies: the sense of time passing

Caroline merges the love song, the stoner reverie, and a diary entry for a late-summer day spent at the park. Marling is part of the unfolding scene and removed from it, cast as both participant and observer

Another reflective anthem is found in Looking Back, in which Marling imagines herself as an older woman. The chorus repeats, “Looking back, that’s all I do.” Typically, when someone begins a sentence with the phrase, “Looking back…” they move on to give some more specific reflective statement, as in, “Looking back, I should have done it differently.” In the song, though, Marling positions “looking back” as its own action. All that she does is reflect

Lullaby is exactly what it sounds like. It is a lullaby that Marling could sing, presumably to her daughter. Its melody is smooth and lulling. Marling’s soft vocals are reassuring. The song serves its purpose.

The penultimate and titular song, Patterns in Repeat, is noteworthy. As its title suggests, it converses with the earlier Patterns. Both songs discuss the concept of patterns repeating themselves, but what stands out about the second is its hyper-specific imagery. In lyrics such as “A light perfume that lingered in the room / That everlasting tune you had to sing,” Marling illustrates how moments and aspects of life carry on and continue.

Lullaby (Instrumental) wraps up the album. It’s calm and soothing, easing the listener out of an overall gorgeous album

With Patterns in Repeat, Laura Marling has once again proven that she is not merely a musician but a true artist capable of transforming her musings into a universally resonant experience. It’s a masterclass in restraint, depth, and the quiet power of art to illuminate the soul