October 2, 2008

Publication title: Spinner, vol. -, Iss. -, pg. –
Place: Unknown
Writer: Jessica Robertson

Sarah McLachlan Shoots Straight on Death, Love and ‘Tropic Thunder’

Sarah McLachlan has no idea where her Grammys are. This is a detail that might trouble your average Rolling Stone cover-gracing, 40-million-album-plus-selling, historical festival-launching musician. Not McLachlan. “I think they’re in my manager’s office,” she ponders to Spinner in Vancouver. “I should find out [laughs]. Oops. It’s not that I don’t care, really. Where do you put those things in a house, you know? They don’t go unless you have some sort of a trophy room. I have none of those. It’s like all my gold and platinum records — they’re sitting in bubble wrap in the basement.”

No frills. Straight-shooting. Sarah McLachlan isn’t entirely as her music sounds.

An adopted Novia Scotia-born art school girl who got her musical start at 17, McLachlan speaks with her pronounced Canadian accent about everything in particular — fame, God, death, sex. If she has reservations regarding her responses, she doesn’t show but, rather, laughs through her occasional disjointed and sometimes profanity-laced retorts, and continues on, all cards on the table. While she writes what many would consider categorically “sad” music, she generalizes herself as a categorically “happy” person, though she once joked that if there were a light at the end of the tunnel, she’d assume it was that of a nuclear bomb.

It’s been 20 years since the release of her debut album, ‘Touch,’ and her career is storied, like most, with triumph and tragedy … and notorious hiatuses between albums. In 1997, McLachlan launched the all-female music festiival Lilith Fair — the top-grossing festival of that year and top-grossing female music festival of all time. That same year, she married her drummer, Ashwin Sood, and released her fourth studio album, ‘Surfacing,’ which would earn her two of her three Grammys and become her best-selling album to date. In 2001, McLachlan saw the death of her mother, while McLachlan herself was pregnant. Her first child, a daughter, was born four months later. McLachlan and Sood welcomed one more girl in 2007, before announcing their split just one month ago. The separation inspired two new songs — ‘U Want Me 2′ and ‘ Don’t Give Up on Us’ — which appear on McLachlan’s forthcoming greatest hits collection, ‘Closer,’ due October 7.

Today, McLachlan, fresh from vacation, is in familiar promotional throes. “You’ll have to forgive me for some of my answers,” she laughs. “It’s early and I’ve only had one cup of coffee.” Be it an excuse or warning, it serves unnecessary.

“Have you seen ‘Tropic Thunder’?” she asks. “It’s so f—ing ridiculous. Tom Cruise is a freak, granted, but he gives 150 percent.”

Put the ballads aside. This is Sarah McLachlan.

It’s been 10 years since Lilith Fair. With that tour, you were sort of cast as the face of modern feminism. How does that sit with you?

It was a bit daunting. I guess I was rather unprepared for the media onslaught and the sort of excitement that ensued from Lilith. I had very simple goals. It was a selfish endeavor. I wanted to put on a great musical show, and showcase all the amazing women that were coming up in music and not being represented in any other summer festivals. And certainly to have guys say, “Oh, this isn’t gonna work, putting 200 women on one bill,” fueled it, as well. The new face of feminism was daunting, as well. What happened there was I was either always too feminist or not feminist enough, depending on who was asking the questions. For me it had less to do with feminism and more to do with, well, maybe feminism. Christ, it was so long ago. That was a crappy answer [laughs]. I haven’t been doing interviews for years.

Some have argued that feminism is outdated at this point — there’s no longer a need. What would you say to that?

Oh, I highly disagree with that [laughs]. We still don’t have job equality, we still don’t have equal pay. There’s discrimination everywhere. I saw it was a daunting task being the new face of feminism, but at the same time I recognized the weight and the gravity of it. I was trying to uphold what I thought feminism was as best I could by supporting women, by trying to create an opportunity to get women to get together, play music together and celebrate the fact that we are having great success making music on our own and together. Another thing that I remember quite a lot — certainly coming up — was this competitiveness that the record companies and the radio stations tried to project onto us, saying, “Well, we added Tori [Amos] this week, we can’t add you.” It was insulting because, for myself certainly but other women I’ve spoken to, we didn’t feel any sense of competition. We all felt what we were doing was unique and different. It was really easy to be supportive of each other and not have that dog-eat-dog, I can’t succeed because you’re first kind of thing.

When you look at your two daughters, what is it that you hope for them as women?

I’m very lucky — they’re both really strong, feisty girls. They don’t take s— from anybody [laughs]. They’re gonna need that. I hope to teach them compassion and understanding, and to have a really strong sense of themselves for themselves in the world around them. And to be kind and treat everyone equally. It’s a hard task. And I’m impatient. You know, the 6-year-old’s like, “I want, I want, I want.” There’s this great expectation that everything should just be handed to you — it drives me crazy. I’m working on being a little more patient with that one [laughs].

Do you think there will ever be a one-off Lilith reunion or celebration?

Never say never. For many years it was just flat-out “Nope. No, can’t even think about it.” But the longer time passes, it doesn’t seem like an impossibility.

Let’s backtrack a bit. I understand that your parents were academics. Was there ever any push for you to follow in their footsteps?

Early on, certainly. We were all expected — my two brothers and I were expected — to go into university. My brothers did that. Somehow I, probably the double standard and the fact that I was a girl, got to go to the art college instead. Despite the fact that they expected really good grades from us and were hard on us in that way, they were also incredibly supportive of our creative sides. Both my brothers and myself took all sorts of art classes and music lessons from a very early age. They really encouraged that as well.

I read that your high school yearbook claimed that you were “destined to become a famous rock star.” Is that what you had planned for yourself?

Yes, my one friend Miranda in high school wrote that [laughs]. I think in my wildest dreams, sure, that seemed like a fun idea. I was never one of those kids that had certain goals, and I think that was one of the luxuries of that time. We didn’t necessarily have to know exactly what we were doing. There were still lots of opportunities and lots of possibilities. I sort of floated into art college and really enjoying that. I thought, “Maybe I’ll be a jewelry designer, maybe I’ll be a textile designer.” Basically my whole M.O. in life has been do what feels good. I’ve been incredibly that that’s worked out so well for me — following that intuition.

Was there a specific moment when music as a profession became a possibility for you?

I don’t know if I recognized it as a profession until I got the record contract, but even then I was too naive or green to realize that’s what it could’ve been. It was more like, “Wow, this is fun. Let’s do this.” My first recognition of “Wow, I could really see myself doing this” was the first gig I ever played. I was 17 years old and in my first band, and we played at the university. I was kind of a gawky, unpopular teenager and there was about 400 people smiling and dancing to what we were doing. I thought, “This is the best drug in the world. I want to do this forever.”

Do you remember the first time you heard yourself on the radio?

I do. I was driving to my first promotional show for a promotional tour in Toronto from the airport with the woman who was doing promo with me at the time. We heard the song ‘Vox’ in the cab on the radio. It was thrilling. I remember it all perfectly. The cab driver got his camera out of the trunk and took pictures of us. It was amazing.

‘Fumbling Towards Ecstasy’ is considered your breakthrough album and was recently reissued. What do you remember about that time?

I remember that being the easiest record I’ve ever made. It was a pretty happy time. I was also single for the first time in my adult life for most of that record [laughs], which was a different thing for me. I had had a nice mired amount of success. I wasn’t huge, just cruising along gaining more momentum every time I went to play.

That album was recently named by Out magazine one of the 100 Gayest Albums of All Time.

Really? [laughs] I love that!

Musician Jen Foster said about that album, “Lesbians all across the world have had sex to this record. A lot of sex.” How does it feel to be a lesbian icon, or “dykon”?

I love it! [laughs] I love being able to spread joy. How amazing is that? I think it’s fantastic. I love that something that I’ve created goes into people’s lives and becomes part of their soundtrack for their emotions, for the world they live in. It gives me an amazing sense of connectedness.

Was there ever a time when you were allured and seduced by fame?

I’d say when I was 17 years old, playing that first show, yeah, I was seduced by fame. But I’m very lucky in the way that my career went. I didn’t get hugely famous really quick. It was a slow, gradual process, so I was able to sort of grow into myself and figure out who I was and what I wanted without the glaring spotlight on me telling me who I was. God, man, young girls these days … Huge huge huge fame and just the whole paparazzi, celebrity-obsessed society. I am just glad I am where I am.

Do you find yourself reading the celebrity-focused magazines and gossip rags?

I am embarrassed to say that on airplanes they do find my hands, yes. But I won’t buy them.

How do you preserve relationships doing what it is that you do?

It can be challenging. I spent a lot of years on the road, and what happens is you find out who your real friends are and you find out where your strengths and weaknesses lie in communication. I’ve had the same friends for 20 years now and I can count them on one hand. I’ve gathered a few more along the way. I’ve got the 10-year club and the 20-year club. But being away for a year-and-a-half, people’s lives move on. People have babies, things change. And you’re stuck in your own little vortex out there on the road. For the most part I’ve been lucky. I don’t have a huge circle of friends. I hardly leave the house after dark. I don’t have a big social network and I don’t go out much.

How did you find it working with the same person you had to share a bed with?

You talk about people and the challenges with their relationships — so many of my band members have girlfriends, wives, kids, and most of my band and crew has been with me on and off for the 20 years I’ve been doing this. I see how hard it is for them to leave these people behind and try to remain connected. I sort of feel like it’s a blessing and a curse. It’s been really great. I can say that parts of it have not been so good. We don’t tend to come back at the end of the day and say, “Hey, how was your day?” because we were in each other’s faces all day.

Your cover of XTC’s ‘Dear God’ was recently brought back to light with the ‘House’ soundtrack. Where did those vocals come from as the song nears its completion? Your voice seems possessed in a way most wouldn’t be familiar.

It was. I remember that. I was at the Mushroom Studios here in Vancouver doing that, and I don’t know where in the hell it came from. I almost got goosebumps now thinking of it. I know it sounds corny, but I probably sang that end thing about three times and I was like, “OK, I’m done.” I couldn’t even talk at the end of it. I was basically screaming and it wasn’t good for my voice, but it just kind of happened. I was kind of scared, thinking, “Oh, that doesn’t sound very nice,” but it worked.

Do you believe in God?

I don’t believe that there’s a guy up there watching down upon all of us. But I do believe that the idea … how do I explain this? God is energy. God is nature. God is in us. God is everything that breathes and lives, that connects us to ourselves and each other. It probably sounds really corny.

There have been a lot of rumors as to who ‘Adia’ actually is. The most ridiculous one I’ve heard to date is that the song is about your cat.

[laughs] This is why I don’t patrol the Internet. My cat? Not so much, no.

Have you heard any other ridiculous rumors as to who that song is about?

No, I didn’t realize people had such an interest in who it was about.

People are fascinated by that song.

Really? Huh. You know what? That’s funny because somebody came up to me at a show in Victoria a couple of weeks ago and I was with my best girlfriend. And she said, “Is that your Adia?” And I though, “Wow, you’re weird.” But, hm, she could be. [laughs]

Your last studio album, ‘Afterglow,’ was released in 2003. During an interview with the New York Times that same year, you said that not one of the 10 songs addressed the birth of your daughter or the death of your mother, saying that you weren’t far enough removed from those events to mine them creatively. Have you begun to do so?

That sounded like a good excuse at the time [laughs]. When I am in some sort of emotional turmoil or heightened emotional state, I tend to need a little objectivity or displacement before I can write about it.

Do you have that now?

No. Nope. I’ve sort of been more in the moment lately in writing which has been great. I wouldn’t say [the writing is] prolific but I have two small children and I was never that great at being disciplined anyway. But I’ve got three songs and about three more on the back burner — bits and pieces.

Do you fear the music will stop coming?

Oh, yeah. Pretty much between every album [laughs]. I always think that that was the best that I’m ever gonna do. But you have to let that go and do what feels right, and wait for it to happen.

You’re writing, but do you have the desire to release another album and tour behind it?

No, honestly. My number-one priority now is being a mother. I’ve worked hard for 20 years on this career and I want to have 40 more years being a musician and playing live. But the way I used to work and the amount of time I used to spend — I can’t do that with two small children. Some people do, and that’s fine. Some people take nannies or have tutors on the road. The type of kids I have, my oldest, anyway, she needs stability. She needs to be home, she needs to be in school. That’s what’s best for her. And I’m fine with that. Just for myself — I don’t want to go on the road for 18 months. With this last record, my daughter was 18 months old when it came out. It was a hard, long process for me to wrap my head around what it takes to put out a record. The longer you’re out of the game, the harder and more work it takes to get back into it … if you want to have success. You know, I spent a year and a half making the record. I worked really hard on it and I didn’t want to just put it out and not promote it. Nothing would’ve happened then.

Does music still serve the same purpose for you as it did when you first started?

I have less need for it now — a lot less need for music than I used to. Not so much my own music because I’m singing in my head all the time and I need to play piano every day or guitar. I need to be able to touch one musical instrument every day. But listening to other people’s music I hardly ever do anymore.

You were at your mother’s side during the last few months of her life. Did that experience change the way you perceived death?

I would have to say it’s my first really close experience with it — watching her slowly fade away. I was relieved when death came. It was a relief for me, it was a relief for her. She was in a lot of pain for a long time. She was an incredibly stoic woman and she put up with a whole lot. It was time for her to go. It wasn’t her anymore. And you know, we don’t talk about death — society — it’s sort of hidden away. It’s ugly and scary. I think about getting old. I’m 40. I see my father’s getting on. He’s not as healthy as he used to be. It’s coming. I know it’s coming. And perhaps watching her go and at the same time having life inside of me — I was pregnant at the time — it was really profound. She left and my daughter came. That’s the cycle. We’re all gonna go. We can do it with grace and dignity and live our lives to the fullest every day because you never know when it’s gonna happen. I kind of already do that but her death brought that a little closer to home.

Did she know that you were having a girl?

No, I didn’t know. I mean, I knew instinctively. I knew since I was 17 that I’d have two girls.

What was your relationship like with your mother?

Pretty good prior to her passing. We had a pretty hard relationship. She was a very hard woman. She had a really hard time growing up — lots of issues, unhappy marriage. She felt like she really gave up a lot for her kids and resented that, and really resented that she was expected to give up everything for her kids. One of the things she always said to me was “Don’t ever financially be reliant on a man.” My mom in her way taught me you take care of yourself because no one else is gonna do it. I think that’s one of the best lessons she gave me.

Most of your songs are a dichotomy — beautiful and ugly, particularly when it comes to love. Does art work better coming from turmoil?

I think it comes from there, absolutely. I think it comes from a lot of places. Probably the well is bigger and more open whenever you’re really feeling whatever it is that you’re feeling — be it euphoria or deep sadness or melancholy. I don’t always get morose to write. I’m actually a pretty happy person. The world around us is full of s—. It’s full of horrible things going on all of the time. I wear my heart on my sleeve — I’m highly emotional, I’m highly affected by other people’s emotional states, which is where I draw a lot of my lyrics from and a lot of my ideas for songs. The emotional world — I find it so fascinating. Human experience — why we behave the way we do, why we react to others the way we do, why we keep making the same stupid mistakes over and over again. I’m certainly drawn to frailty and flaws. Flaws are what make us beautiful and unique and broken.

Are you the type to fall in love easily?

Yes.

Heartbreaker or heartbreak-ee?

I’ve had my heart broken twice. And I suppose I might’ve broken a few more than that …

Joni Mitchell once said in an interview with Rolling Stone that music is why life was worth living, but it might finally be a beautiful face that would make her put the microphone down. What would it take for you to do the same?

She’s saying a beautiful face might make her put her microphone down. You mean a lover?

That’s how it could be interpreted, yes.

Well, no thanks [laughs]. I don’t agree with that personally. But I don’t see what could stop me, save for me losing my voice. I can’t see anything stopping me from making music.