Moving Beyond Lilith Fair

This is the story of how Sarah McLachlan, chick rock, and the concept of Lilith Fair all changed my life. When I was in sixth grade, my home economics teacher asked what we kiddies wanted to be when we grew up. Besides my twin sister, I was the biggest New York Rangers fan in middle school--I had only started watching hockey the second semester of my sixth grade year, but it grew on me fast (and fortunately so, because 1994 was the year that the Rangers won the Stanley Cup after a 54-year drought. Like I felt the brunt of that, but anyway). Since I had no hope of becoming a giant Canadian male, or at least a stout Canadian male with coaching skills, I thought of the only occupation that would ever get me close to ice hockey: sports journalism. So that's what I said in class.

Once I entered high school, there was increasingly little time for hockey, and as the onslaught of hormonal changes/teenage rebellion took complete hold of me, I found that hockey wasn't the emotional outlet that I needed in order to, well, "express myself." Thus, in 1997, I stumbled upon my older sister's copy of Sarah Mac's 1994 release Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, and bought her then-newly released album Surfacing. Gold mine. From then on, all I wanted to do was wear long skirts and write crappy poetry and play acoustic guitar and wear patchouli and--you get it.

This story is common (maybe not the hockey part) to those familiar with the mainstream genre of "chick rock." Chick rock evokes the image of a lone woman playing folk or folk-rock; singers like Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, and others can be considered mothers of the genre. Of course, this isn't necessarily the case nowadays--artists like Tori Amos, Patty Griffin, and even Kate Bush in the '80s have taken chick rock to rockier or more electronic levels. Sarah McLachlan's two strongest influences were Mitchell and Bush, and her earliest music directly reflected the quiet folk and cacophonic electronics of those two artists. Her music was attractive to me because of its intricacy: while pianos and guitars dominate her music, she incorporates a quirky electronic element that created either orchestral sweeps or minimal accompaniments throughout her various ballads. McLachlan's union between these genres made her music much more appealing to her fans and the masses, and it also helped in crowning her as the queen of late 20th-early 21st century chick rock. Another reason why she can be termed as such is because in 1997 she founded what was viewed as the biggest tangible breakthrough for women in music, the touring festival known as Lilith Fair. Lilith showcased, or tried to showcase, women from every imaginable genre of music, thus semi-expanding the definition of chick rock. Hip-hop representation was always lacking in Lilith Fair, and those solo artists who jumped the Fairy bandwagon were usually those armed with--you guessed it--pianos and acoustic guitars. At its end, Lilith Fair and its followers came full circle in realizing that chick rock was not as accepting of other genres as McLachlan and her Lilith cohorts had hoped. This kind of music would always remain somewhat in the forest, with bonfires, and fairies, and incense, and whatnot.

McLachlan's own music, however, never seemed to be that simple. Her long-time producer, Pierre Marchand, did not let Sarah Mac stray too deep into organic musichood. His gentle work with synthesizers and electronic effects gave Fumbling a freshness that worked alongside McLachlan's lyrics of pure sadness. With Surfacing, the electronics tempered more light-hearted songs, as in "Black and White" or "I Love You." On her brand-new album, Afterglow, it seems that McLachlan may have come full circle in her own right, and I worry now for her music and for the fate of chick rock entirely.

Not to say that the album isn't good--it is good, but it isn't as mind-blowing as Fumbling or as satisfying as Surfacing. Her lyrics have always been a little vague and incredibly detailed at the same time, and while her lyrics are somewhat simple on Afterglow, the most glaring omission from this album is the lack of electronics. If McLachlan can easily be termed as "uncool," the element in her music that would serve as evidence to the opposite is an underlying presence of electronica (her music has been remixed by such DJs as BT, Roni Size, and Rabbit in the Moon). From electronica, McLachlan has moved into full-blown chick rock, and just a little late-'80s college rock. Songs such as "Drifting" and "Dirty Little Secret" show potential to be melodic bombshells like "Elsewhere" from Fumbling, but they instead languish in choruses and piano accompaniments. The first two tracks, "Fallen" and "World on Fire," are peppy but plain rock tunes, and again, they are sorely lacking in the electronics that set apart McLachlan's music from someone like that of the hoarse-voiced Paula Cole. The only track that is progressive is "Time," but only because it is supported with calm but driving synth beats and clear vocal dubs. Indeed, the song is reminiscent of her first, most Kate Bush-like album, Touch.

McLachlan introduced me to a new genre, one incorporating both folk-rock and electronica. It seems that right now, Sarah is losing her MC cred, which worries me, because I think that chick rock is as expandable as Lilith Fair set out to prove. I decided to start this column, but really, Sarah started it: her music is still, by far, the most influential on me and my musical tastes, and it was by listening to her that I decided to forgo my dreams of joining Sports Illustrated to become a music journalist. There are, however, plenty of other female artists who are being overlooked because of the chick rock genre in which they are lumped, one which continues to be associated with folk rock. In the coming columns, hopefully you will discover what women are doing away from the acoustic Madeiras and grand Steinways.