October, 1997

Publication title: Canadian Musician, vol. 19, Iss. 5, pg. 40
Place: Toronto
Writer: Unknown

Sarah McLachlan

Winter 1975. While icy winds rip up the streets of Halifax, a seven-year-old girl opens a gift that will change her life. Most kids might not appreciate the musical opportunities inherent in the ukulele, but for Sarah McLachlan, the gift was a symbol of her calling, the water in which she would submerge herself, exploring the world and surfacing, triumphant. Luckily for music fans — except, perhaps, afficionados of the uke — she took up the piano at age 11, then studied voice at Nova Scotia’s Royal Conservatory of Music and continued her exploration of classical music while a student at Dalhousie University. Who knows? If Mark Jowett of Nettwerk Records hadn’t discovered the 17-year-old McLachlan performing at her first-ever gig (opening for punkmeisters Moev), this article could be focusing on the Beethoven of the 20th century. Instead, we’re talking about the hottest songwriter to emerge from Canada since Joni Mitchell. Gestation Canada has watched Sarah McLachlan grow up. Her darkly disturbing 1988 debut, Touch, included “Out of the Shadows,” the first non-classical song she ever wrote. With her sophomore Solace, McLachlan dove deeper into her inner self. The Nova Scotian’s third full-length release, 1995’s Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, revealed that the angelic-voiced singer wasn’t all slit-your-wrists. That album’s subsequent success — it sold 2.5 million copies worldwide — and touring filled her wanderlust. With her fourth complete work, Surfacing — which is more than complete, most would say — McLachlan emerges as a grown woman, dealing with the complexities of life and the responsibilities of adulthood. Gone are the post-adolescent anxieties; in their place are soul-tugging insights. The music is celestial; the woman is down-to-earth, neither taking nor giving any bullshit. She wears her heart on her vocal cords. But the process of coaxing it there is not as easy for her as it might appear. Labour pains McLachlan is the type of songwriter that makes other songwriters want to quit.

Her talents seem so pure, so given, that one might get the mistaken impression the songs simply flow effortlessly from her soul. Early on, she acknowledged that writing was painful — as is any pursuit in which one ruthlessly explores one’s darker side. Now, emerging (or rather, surfacing) from that exploration, McLachlan is reluctant to discuss her process. And with good reason. After Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, Sarah wondered if she had peaked. Maybe I shouldn’t write any more, she thought. Maybe this is as good as I’m gonna get. What followed was an eight-month writer’s block from hell, during which she was haunted by a recurring inner voice that told her, I’m never going to write another song. I’m not meant to. “It was myself who put all that pressure on me,” she admits. “The reason [I blocked was that] I thought I should be writing, and I was beating myself up instead of letting myself say, ‘I don’t want to be writing right now, and that’s okay.'” While friends and associates reassured McLachlan that her muse would indeed re-emerge, the singer struggled — as do all writers — to find a cure. The answer was deceptively simple. “I just lived my life. I stopped worrying and being neurotic about what I should have accomplished, and I told myself that it was okay that I wasn’t writing. I had to trust myself and let go. It seems so fundamental, but it was the hardest thing to do” So how does Canada’s current songwriting darling develop her platinum tracks? “It comes all different ways,” is about as deep as she wants to get into the topic. Not surprisingly, she prefers solitude and “a nice-sounding room.” “Most often, I’ll be playing, piano or guitar, and a chord structure will emerge.” Scrutinizing the process is something she clearly views as a jinx. “It’s not something I analyze. I work on it and work on it until it’s right, I feel the message is there, or the message is clear enough — and the message might be completely unclear to the fans [note the heated discussions on her fans’ e-mail list], but to me, I’ve made sense of it.” That, she feels, signifies that a song is ready. Like many songwriters, Sarah says what her songs mean to individual fans is important, that she may write a song with her own experiences in mind, but however a listener perceives that song is just as valid to that person. It’s pointed out that this “writing from the gut” approach makes sense, because her music works on such a visceral level. She agrees. “I live my life that way. It’s the only way I know how to do it. And it’s served me well so far.” Indeed, it has served her well in her personal life as well as her professional one: last February, Sarah eloped with her drummer, Ashwin Sood. Not even the Nettwerk folks knew about the wedding until the deed was done. Delivery Surfacing was recorded at producer/engineer/recording god Pierre Marchand’s Ciel Sauvage Studios in Montreal. Marchand has been at the helm of Sarah’s last three albums, and she credits him with shaping her entire musical style. “With Pierre, it’s a complete partnership,” she explains. “When I go in there with a song, it might be a very simple thing on piano or guitar, and we’ll take it from there. He plays a huge role in shaping the record, the song. If I had a different producer, my albums would sound very, very different.” Her sound is “branded,” as they say in advertising. Only one woman has that ethereal voice. Only one woman can evoke such deep despair and profound joy simultaneously. Only one woman is Sarah McLachlan. McLachlan’s relationship with Marchand goes beyond producer. In her producer, she found a collaborator who was a musician first. “He’s totally gut-driven,” she reveals. “He can’t explain why he does things certain ways, he just does them. And I trust him greatly.” She recently purchased the Montreal native’s 110-year-old Steinway concert grand piano, which now shares her often-empty residence in Vancouver with a brand new Steinway grand. The old and the new. The wise and the innocent. The painful and the joyous. McLachlan has a record deal which allows her to stay with Nettwerk, her mother label in Canada, while being distributed by Arista, a BMG subsidiary in the United States. She balks at the focus on singles given by major labels, saying she asked Arista “just [to] let us make a record, and then you can tell us if you like it.” The label agreed. And they liked it. So have half a million North Americans, whose immediate purchase of Surfacing — including an almost instantaneous sell-out of a limited-edition 2-CD set featuring nearly four hours of CD-ROM interviews and videos — allowed it to debut at #2 on the Billboard charts. Talking on the phone from the portable Lilith Fair production office in New York, McLachlan sounds fairly grounded about the experience. “It’s okay,” she says modestly, “It’s slightly more tangible than an award, because awards are just popularity contests.” This from the woman who has been nominated for five Juno awards. Ova Palooza One of the fringe benefits of McLachlan’s success is that she realized her ability to provide other women artists with a showcase for their talents. The first inklings towards Lilith Fair emerged several years ago, when McLachlan wanted her friend Paula Cole to open for her on an American tour. Several promoters objected, claiming that a two-woman bill would never sell. Of course, Cole did tour with McLachlan — very successfully — but the not-so-subtle lesson about sexism in the industry was well-noted. “Last year, I was looking at Lollapalooza’s lineup, and it was all men,” McLachlan recalls. “And all my friends were saying, ‘God, there’s no women. There’s so many great, talented women musicians out right now, and they’re not being represented in the summer festivals.’ And I thought, well, wouldn’t it be fun…why don’t we do one of those things ourselves?” She talked with manager Terry McBride who “seemed to think it was a viable idea.” Viable indeed. As of this writing, Lilith Fair, which will ultimately cover 35 North American cities, has drawn an average attendance of 20,000 at each stop. Buffy Childerhouse, a friend of Sarah’s and a Montreal songwriter, came up with the idea to call the tour Lilith, after the Biblical Adam’s first wife, who refused to be subservient to her husband. Although McLachlan didn’t know about the feminist connotations, she had always loved the name Lilith, ever since hearing the Genesis song, “Lily White Lilith,” and she realized the history (or her-story) of the name was all the more significant. “I added ‘fair’ to balance out some of the negative connotations that some people may perceive Lilith as having, Sarah adds. “Fair as in being beautiful, fair as in being equal, and fair as in…a fair.” But Lilith Fair isn’t just a “chick thing.” During a recent Intimate & Interactive on MuchMusic, McLachlan revealed that several men have suggested that the festival would be a good place to meet women. “I never even thought of that,” she said, admittedly feeling a bit naive, “Well, yes, it is.” Do what you have to do In preparation for Lilith, McLachlan and company spent between four and six hours a night in rehearsal. “And,” she points out, “that was just for what, ten songs?” When the crew returns to Vancouver in September, she anticipates an equally rigorous rehearsal schedule — on the same material — for the entire “month off.” Next stop, Venus Fans and musicians alike will say that McLachlan’s music succeeds because on every level, she communicates experiences with intense personal empathy. And nothing has increased global communication like the Internet. But ironically, the woman with over a dozen fan-based web sites in her name credits scientific advancement as one of the reasons for her music’s popularity. “The world is sort of pulling us apart in this technological age,” she asserts, adding that she sees her role as creating “a sense of connection, [reinforcing] the notion that we’re not alone.” A pause, and then, in true fashion, the earthy cuts through the ethereal. “Someone else has gone through the bullshit.” So what’s next for one of the planet’s most popular craftswomen? Other than an almost guaranteed multi-platinum album and those “popularity contests” called the Junos and Grammys? “I want to continue keeping an open heart and an open mind.” She refers back to one of her earliest influences. “To quote Cat Stevens, I want to ‘let my music take me where my heart wants to go.'” Aware of the sociopolitical repercussions of quoting such an…er…easy listening artist, she quickly adds, “That’s so corny, but it’s so true.” And truth, more than anything else, is what Sarah McLachlan is all about.

BUILDING A HISTORY Yes, you’re thinking, this is all very nice, but what does she play? McLachlan prefers vintage instruments, or at least ones that have a history: “I really like older instruments, because they keep so much energy in them, and the more they get played, and the more love they’re given, the more that’s channeled through them, the more dignity they have.” But a full collection of vintage instruments is not only expensive, but impractical as well. So for the Lilith Fair tour, Sarah is accompanied by: Gibson J45 guitar Morgan 12-string acoustic guitar M1 Korg Morgan Cutaway guitar Morgan Full Body guitar Barney Kessell electric guitar Dan Electro guitar K-Yairi Classical guitar 26-string folk harp CP80 keyboard CF Martin acoustic guitar Barney Kessel electric jazz guitar Dan Electro 6-string bass The Morgans are great live, because they’re really clean-sounding and crisp,” Sarah explains. “I don’t use them for recording, because I prefer a warmer sound, and they don’t have that history to them. I’m giving them a history — I’ve been playing them about a year, so in probably 15-20 years, they’re going to sound great.” There is one exception, one guitar she feels is “album-ready.” “I have a vintage Martin acoustic, a gift from Arista, that I use predominantly on albums.” The gift was presented by Arista president Clive Davis, “It was a glorious present, the nicest present I’ve ever gotten in my life. Very expensive guitar. and — it sings. It’s fantastic.” And for those of you contemplating in-ear monitoring, here’s a strange twist: while Sarah does use the in-ear method, she doesn’t use the custom-made traditional monitors, preferring to go with Sony ER565 Walkman headphones. “They aren’t as isolating as the regular kind,” explains her live sound engineer, Gary Stokes. “She can hear some ambient noise, as opposed to being completely cut off from the band and her audience. But it’s a constant experiment to find the right balance.”