Sarah McLachlan

Released in 1997, Surfacing is highlighted by the workman-like perfection of "Building a Mystery," which was all over the radio at the time, and the haunting "Angel," which displays McLachlan's talents as a singer. She bolsters her ghost-calling vocals with a sturdy rhythm section, and the result is a record that sold in the mega-gajillion-zillions.

Her 1994 breakthrough album was called "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy;" on "Surfacing," Sarah
McLachlan sounds like she's content to just float her way there. Which means that if you
want a piece of her nirvana, you have to go along at her protracted, glacial pace.
McLachlan favors maternal patience over bombshells, whispered intimacy over a quick
payoff. Her songs are cast in deep-blue tints and gray-day moods; she soaks her... More >

Fearing serial tsunamis of subcosmic truism and womanist gush, I'd always kept away from the edge of this Canadian, such as it was. But between her Lilith Fair counterpalooza and "Building a Mystery" bonanza, I had to dive in, and got less than I'd bargained for. McLachlan isn't a mystic, a sister, even a NewAger--merely a singer-songwriter of monumental banality. Now ensconced in the mature satisfactions that come eventually to many unhappy young women, most of whom don't possess a clear multioctave voice or modest tune sense, she's proud to encase her homilies of succor and self-acceptance in settings that don't call undue attention to her compositional ambitions. Renormalized pop at its most unnecessary. (Grade - C-)