If I had felt so inclined, I could have written an article about the slow demise of Sarah McLachlan; almost everything she’s done since 1997 has basically been schlock. It’s something I’ve pondered from time to time when either thinking about her music, thinking about times when I was obsessed with her music, or actually listening to her music, which I admit happens very rarely because her early stuff is actually still so moving that it takes a lot out of me, and it’s not something I want to do to myself too often.
So I never wrote it. Happily, though, Sarah Liss did. So you can read her article on CBC.ca, which basically says everything I would have wanted to say about the state of McLachlan’s art and career (admittedly much better then I probably could have done it).
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. . . the year of a great beginning. Like all new moms, the birth of my child was physically the most traumatic, and emotionally the most tremendous moment of my life. Nothing can touch it. For all those out there who don’t have kids, I’m sorry to be so predictable and prosaic, but if you are ever graced with the birth of your own child, you’ll understand. Hey, maybe you already do.
