Reveling in a peaceful state of utter anonymity, the singer Sarah McLachlan strolled about New York's Central Park one recent afternoon, unencumbered by fans begging for autographs or pesky paparazzi snapping photos.
"I've been away for a number of years, so no one recognizes me," McLachlan observed.
The remark might have caused another celebrity to blanch, but McLachlan was beaming. "I'm really enjoying this because in a week I probably won't be able to sit here and not get noticed."
Not long ago McLachlan, 35, was regarded as one of the most important women in rock. The Lilith Fair, the all-female concert series that she began in the late 1990s, not only transformed her into a bona fide star but cast her as the new face of modern feminism.
It's been six years since her last studio album (an eternity in the music industry), but McLachlan has finally returned with one, Afterglow, a collection of moody, low-key songs that, despite the time lag, seamlessly picks up where McLachlan left off with her multiplatinum Surfacing in 1997. Though much in her personal life changed while she was away from the spotlight -- she married, lost her mother and became a mother herself -- her style remains decidedly the same: atmospheric folk-pop that invites listeners to sway, not stomp.
As she has before, McLachlan teams with the producer Pierre Marchand. And again, Afterglow finds her grappling with the complexities of life and relationships. While some critics have accused her of not charting new territory, her fans will delight in quintessential McLachlan songs like Stupid" about a romance gone painfully awry ("Love has made me a fool, set me on fire and watched as I floundered"), and Fallen, which showcases McLachlan's crisp, ethereal vocals. With lines like "visions clash, planes crash, still there's talk of saving souls," the song World on Fire is an allusion to 9/11.
To some the title Afterglow may conjure up images of postcoital bliss, but the word possesses a darker, more somber meaning for McLachlan.
"The first thing that comes to mind is this beautiful warm light," she said, "but what I think of is the light after a nuclear holocaust."
Not one of the 10 songs on Afterglow addresses the birth of her daughter, India, in 2002, or the death of her mother four months earlier. She is not far enough removed from those events to mine them creatively, she said, adding, "It takes years for those types of things to sink in."
"Even today," she said, "I have moments when I think, I should call my mother. And then I remember she's gone." But the melancholy that pervades her new album does not belong to her, the relentlessly upbeat McLachlan insisted. Rather she drew from the experiences of her friends, she said. But she quickly added: "It's not like I've always been in this happy place. The well is deep. There are lots of past traumas that I can call on."
Born and reared in Nova Scotia, McLachlan said her parents were a scientist and homemaker. "They were children of the Depression and we lived very frugally," McLachlan, the youngest of three, explained. "But there was always money for private art lessons." She was 19 when she landed her first record deal. McLachlan had a slow rise to prominence; not until her 1994 album, Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, did broad audiences begin to take notice.
The Lilith Fair, the estrogen-fueled concert series that McLachlan and Terry McBride, her manager, started in 1997, introduced McLachlan to the masses, establishing her as a formidable talent and a savvy businesswoman. The all-female tour, which ran annually for three years, featured artists like Sheryl Crow, Jewel, Missy Elliott and Natalie Merchant. In giving women a platform to rock, McLachlan was cast as a Gloria Steinem with a guitar.
"I was put out there as a spokesperson for the new feminist revolution," McLachlan said. "It was very difficult because I was either too feminist or not feminist enough depending on who you spoke to."
Surfacing topped the charts in 1997 on the strength of the hit Building a Mystery. A live album, Mirrorball, came out two years later, and then McLachlan disappeared. The first few years were spent recharging her batteries at home in Vancouver with her husband, Ashwin Sood, the drummer in her band, the next few years were spent procrastinating -- "I'd rather scrub the sink than write," McLachlan joked -- and taking care of her ill mother. Eventually McLachlan began to worry and forced herself back into music, a bit too early, she now contends. "I was sort of in this fog of being a new mother and thinking, Oh, God, I've got to get this record out. That's no way to be creative. It's not coming from an honest place. It's coming from panic."
"Sleep deprived and hormonally overcharged," as she described herself at the time, McLachlan contemplated walking away from music entirely. "I thought I'd lost it," she said. "I had a midlife crisis at 35."
L.A. Reid, head of Arista, McLachlan's label, recalled that McLachlan sent him a demo of Fallen two years ago and that he eagerly awaited the follow-up. "Months went by and I got nothing," he said. "She was having a block. Without question the birth of her daughter and her mother's passing played a part in it all."
Whether McLachlan still has a place in a music world in which showboating R&B divas and studio-created pop princesses reign remains to be seen. One thing is certain, however: McLachlan seems to have little interest in playing the celebrity game. In a tank top, red-tinted shades and camouflage pants, her signature short hair grown out, she appeared to be someone who preferred Birkenstocks to Manolo Blahniks.
"I would love to make my music and be completely anonymous, but that doesn't work," she said. "You can't have success and be faceless."
During the interview McLachlan weighed in on everything from the war in Iraq to the recent hullabaloo surrounding Britney Spears and Madonna's televised lip lock. "Don't you get it?" McLachlan said. "You're totally feeding their egos. Who cares if they kiss? I see women kissing all the time."
McLachlan, a self-professed feminist, said she was troubled by the current crop of young women singers baring all to hawk albums. "I don't think it's healthy and I don't think it's a positive image for young girls," she said.
As toddlers scampered about Central Park, their giddy squeals piercing the air, conversation inevitably returned to McLachlan's 19-month-old daughter, who was back at the hotel with her nanny. All roads in McLachlan's life now lead to her daughter, India. "She is my top priority," the singer said. And with that she readied herself to leave, off to enjoy her last few days of freedom.
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