July 16, 2004

Publication title: Neon, vol. -, Iss. -, pg. –
Place: Unknown
Writer: Doug Elfman

Specifically Nonspecific

Sarah McLachlan is less interested in what her songs mean than what they mean to her listeners.

Sarah McLachlan says of her music: “I’m writing about really basic emotions, and creating a loose weave of a story around them that almost anybody can put themselves into and go, ‘I’ve been there.’”

Sarah McLachlan speaks from the back yard of her Vancouver home in a lush of lavenders, poppies, roses and delphiniums in full bloom.

“Not a bad place to do (phone) interviews,” she says, sounding pretty chipper.

This is where McLachlan, 36, the celebrated writer of poetic songs on mending broken people, has been gardening with her daughter, India.

“My little girl is getting really good at weeding, too. I’m teaching her the difference between all the flowers and the weeds,” she says. “She loves getting her hands dirty. She’s 2 and almost 3 months.”

The garden is 9,000 square feet.

“It’s big, yeah,” she says. “I have a gardener who comes once a week, but quite frankly, I’m the one who does all the weeding.”

McLachlan spends an hour a day weeding, she says. What does she get from her obsession to rip things out of the Earth?

“Peace and groundedness. And just solitude,” she says. “It’s cleaning house. … I like a little bit of anarchy, definitely, but I like it to be a little bit orderly, as well. I’m sure there’s some great correlation” between weeding and music. “I’ll let you delve into that.”

Well, McLachlan will, when asked, delve into one of her classic songs and answer questions about her most perplexing and startling one, “Hold On.” In the song, her character lies in bed, desperately, and thinks, “Hold on to yourself, for this is gonna hurt like hell:”

“So now you’re sleeping peaceful. I lie awake and pray that you’ll be strong tomorrow, and we’ll see another day. And we will praise it and love the light that brings a smile across your face. Oh God, if you’re out there, won’t you hear me? I know that we’ve never talked before. Oh God, the man I love is leaving. Won’t you take him when he comes to your door?”

“Hold On” is a rarity in music. It’s a love-lost poem that is neither maudlin nor hackneyed. Her singing dips in and out of anger, sadness and betrayal. Her piano playing is subtle.

“I like nuances,” she says.

And “Hold On” is written about a specific moment, but with open interpretations. The listener can’t be sure if “the man I love is leaving” means he’s leaving voluntarily, or dying, or even about to be killed by the protagonist.

“And that’s purposeful,” McLachlan says, “even though I wrote it about something extremely specific.”

McLachlan still loves the ambiguity of “Hold On.”

“Anybody can listen to the song and sort of relate it to their lives in some way. You would be astounded as to the variations of stories I would hear from people. They always want to ask me what that song’s about, and I turn around and say, `What is it about, to you?’ Because that’s what’s important, ultimately. And they’ll tell me, `Oh, my sister’s little girl passed away,’ or, `My boyfriend did this.’ They’re wildly different stories.”

She says she writes most of her songs over months or years. Often, the verses are written not just during different periods, but about different subjects.

“And somehow, I figure how to tie them together loosely,” she says. “But I’m writing about really basic emotions, and creating a loose weave of a story around them that almost anybody can put themselves into and go, `I’ve been there.’ ”

While performing these songs on tour, McLachlan travels with her daughter and her husband, who drums with her.

“That’s extremely handy,” she says.

McLachlan has this year wrapped up tours in Europe, New Zealand and Australia. She’s promoting her 2003 album, “Afterglow.” And she just named her favorite songs in a 15-cut compilation for Starbucks’ CD series, “Artist’s Choice.”

Her Starbucks CD includes Cat Stevens’ “If I Laugh,” along with R.E.M.’s “Everybody Hurts,” Rufus Wainwright’s “Poses,” Kate and Anna McGarrigle’s “I Eat Dinner” (the McGarrigle sisters are Wainwright’s mother and aunt), the Indigo Girls’ “Love’s Recovery” and Talk Talk’s “Desire.”

In the liner notes for the Starbucks CD, McLachlan often explains her choices with two words, “simple” and “beautiful.”

“I’m very drawn toward beautiful things and beautiful experiences,” she says. “And I also crave simplicity. … I’m always drawn to songs that create a mood that draw me out of myself and make me feel something, which is something I hope to do with my music.”

But McLachlan, who is a classically trained musician, thinks her life is simpler than her music.

“My music gets pretty complex,” she says. “We spend two-and-a-half years on it. … We experiment. We have 10 guitarists and 15 drum tracks, and then we bring it all back to the beginning, sometimes. But it’s that experimentation, I think, that creates the layers.”