There is something particularly soothing about Sarah McLachlan's songs. There's continued to be a steady, relaxing pattern to her music. Like a series of waves. I believe that the aural sensation of her music can be compared to a warm bath. Even when the music has more negative connotations, her music provides a feeling of comfort.
Tonight's feature isn't pleasant as "Ice Cream" or eerie as "Possession." It's a song called "Answer" from her 2003 album Afterglow. I'd compare it to being on a cruise ship, feeling the boat pass through the water. She slowly powers through the song for two verses, and gently recedes a little before getting back into the pace. Listening to the studio track through my headphones, I feel what may easily be subsonic undertones as her voice and the piano harmonize. There's a pattern in the background that I can't quite identify, but I can't figure out exactly what is. There's a subtle fuzz as if something as intentionally brushed against a microphone, or a small, shaken, and percussive instrument. Continuing the nautical comparison, that little accent would be like the minor breaking of a wave.
To be honest, I'm not sure how many people may draw that comparison. It could be the affect of being near a harbor. I'm from Boston, a major seaport city that has a close bond with McLachlan's hometown of Halifax, NS. It's sort of like the aquatic feel that I get from listening to Makana's slack-key playing, but strangely, I haven't picked up the sensation from the Vancouver or Anchorage musicians I've written about. That could be the difference in music styles, or I could just be romanticizing about the musical tones. *shrugs and gets back to interpreting the song*
The song is about two people being there for each other, helping one another to bear the brunt of what the world may throw at them. The first song is her promising to be there for them, the "solid ground" when so much seems uncertain. In the second verse, she give in a little, while not losing a beat in the rhythm or tone. She explains how she's been through a rough time, and she needs that person there as the last bright star in a field of darkness. Providing the solace to sustain as they wait for the sunrise. Then, with the third verse, is the recession I spoke about. She speeds up a little, falling as if momentarily losing her balance and drive. She asks to be gently guided to morning's light after such a rough night. Then, she closes, repeating the second verse, recovering the strength she began the song with, but having revealed her vulnerability.
The geek in me is begging to briefly compare this to an episode of Gargoyles (a 90's fantasy series about a clan of gargoyles who in the day, rest and heal in a state of stone dormancy). There's an episode called "Long Way to Morning," where two of the lead Gargoyles and a close human ally are savagely attacked by one of the villains. It takes every measure of strength and determination to fend of the antagonist (a fellow gargoyle named Demona). Weary and aching while protecting their human friend, the hours seem to pass so slowly as they yearn for the healing effects of daylight.
There you go. Some sappy writing about a McLachlan song (though this won't be the last time), and a reference to my geekdom.
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