November 16, 2014
Publication title: montrealgazette.com, vol. -, Iss. -, pg. –
Place: Unknown
Writer: Jordan Zivitz
Concert review: Sarah McLachlan invites fans into her living room
Many artists who retreat from the spotlight for years at a time seem less than approachable when they resurface. Sarah McLachlan is not one of them.
With four years separating her new album, Shine On, from its predecessor — a blink compared to her two previous hibernations between major releases — McLachlan would have been welcomed like a long-lost friend at Théâtre St-Denis on Saturday even if she had kept her head down and her interaction to a minimum. But she reciprocated the warmth, making this feel at times like less of a concert and more of a social gathering.
She wasted no time establishing a rapport, arriving with zero fanfare and rattling off a rapid-fire, good-humoured apology for her poor French — in French. There was a brief flash of her international activism when she mentioned that the opening number, In Your Shoes, was inspired by Malala Yousafzai, but McLachlan’s main concern was clearly setting the most intimate atmosphere possible.
It took a few songs before the music reached the same effortless familiarity. Building a Mystery was a little rushed and Adia’s reassurances sounded tentative, but by the time McLachlan was singing Answer from the point of view of a muse, she had found her own inspiration.
Aside from a few errant cracks over the course of the two-hour, two-set performance, there was almost no sign of time diminishing the crystalline purity of McLachlan’s vocals. If those rapturous, heavenward swoops and earthbound flutters come at a cost, she hid the effort behind a state of grace. Even when there was pain in her lyrics — which, as she joked, was often — she was usually beaming.
McLachlan added to the evening’s loosey-goosey vibe by hosting semi-structured Q&As, with questions scrawled at the merch table and deposited in a hat on the piano. Revelations: she hasn’t been to Schwartz’s for a while (unlike her drummer — “I was just there an hour ago!”), Peter Gabriel is her musical idol, and she’s most inspired to write “when I am in a very calm and open-minded place — which rarely happens anymore. I have kids.”
But that wasn’t the height of the fan service.
McLachlan invited contest winners to park themselves on a stage-side sofa, chat with the singer and pose for selfies in what was clearly not a rehearsed bit. The friendly chaos did very little to help the show’s momentum, but did a lot for the living-room ambience.
The living room’s lighting could have been pared down, with low-hanging circular rigs set amid strands of bulbs, glowing Chinese lanterns and a trio of vertical screens. The design would have been low-key in an arena, but crowded the theatre stage. McLachlan’s tasteful four-piece band was far less cluttered, with superfluous notes a rarity. Atypically, Fallen appeared to feature piped-in strings; it would have survived just fine without them.
Although the set list drew heavily from Shine On, McLachlan reached farther back in her catalogue for the second half. (Still, at least one representative from her first two albums would have been appreciated.) Hold On was quietly devastating, while Fumbling Towards Ecstasy’s steadfast serenity was complemented by a radiant guitar climax.
After more guests were invited to hang out on the couch, McLachlan allowed the modest tone to give way to something approaching a grand finale. The deceptively cautious intro to Fear yielded to a startling display of her operatic range, and a flashy Sweet Surrender and gently menacing Possession suggested her time as an arena headliner isn’t necessarily behind her for good.
And then came the height of that state of grace, with McLachlan alone at the piano for the start of the encore. “I got you all riled up and now I’m just gonna bring you back down. Sorry about that.” Sorry / not sorry: Angel’s offering of redemption was as divine as ever, and was perfect in its imperfection. When McLachlan’s celestial soprano briefly splintered and she coughed off-mic, one spell was momentarily broken and one remained: we were brought back from heaven, but we were still in her living room.
