SARAH MARY CHADWICK
Across her eleven studio albums, very little has changed in Chadwick’s approach, but the depth and quality she continues to extract from the duality of just vocals and keys is staggering. Perhaps it is the wealth of misfortune and the seemingly endless array of life's disasters and tribulations that keep the meter running, or perhaps it is the self-reflection and continual use of music as a tool of psychological reflection that makes her voluminous work swirl and churn with endless regularity. Whatever the real approximation might be, what is certainly clear is that this album tackles some internal and deeply troubling subject matter. Putting the usual ill fated love tales to one side, the matters of family and parental abuse are pushed to the forefront and feature throughout the album as a kind of cathartic exodus, a purge of pent up feelings that are overdue, or at very least, taking an opportune moment to expel aged trauma that has been granted permission to pass because a level of maturity and sufficient healing time has been reached. Chadwick deals with it all in the best way she knows how, which is to stroke the ebony and ivy as though the keys themselves represent the agony and memories she is processing as it filters through her fingertips.
The nursery rhyme delicacy of Chadwick’s gentle piano on ‘What Am I, Gatsby?’ is paired with her quivering voice as she moves in and out of metaphor and reality. The birthday scenario is one that typifies a great many of Chadwick’s quintessential attributes. Radiating pain, melted reflection, and a synchronicity of the two which is echoed by her most elemental music.
Chadwick’s voice can be heard breaking as she painfully depresses individual keys on ‘She Never Leant On A Bar’. Recalling youthful times that were thought to be important but in hindsight mean very little.
There is an ache to every word Chadwick utters and a truth that outlines every sentence. On the lead single ‘Take Me Out To A Bar’ Chadwick recants a relationship built on the shifting sands of inequality as she describes pivotal moments and enacts vivid imagery through subliminally soaked lines such as “drop me home undercover, shining smile in the dark”.
Brushing off the relations of the general public and focusing squarely on the most immediate relationships of all, the stoic ‘I'm Not Clinging To Life’ takes aim at the parental affiliations Chadwick experienced firsthand. The brutally frank and painfully true account is one of distance and a bond between father and daughter that was as cold as it was hard. Completely exposed and delivered with an honesty that can only come from deep searching and a hindsight that only comes into view many years after the fact.
The level of intimacy and openness through which Chadwick details her life and relations is an approach that marks her style as much as her musicality does. The simplicity of ‘Not Cool Like NY / Not Cool Like L.A’ demonstrates the point perfectly. The lightest sprinkling of keys is the only accompaniment to Chadwick’s quivering vocals and authentic lyrics as she speaks about panning for gold both literally and metaphorically in her rural hometown of Taumarunui, New Zealand whilst the promised riches of the Northern Hemisphere remain elusive yet redundant compared the inner wealth of a decent life and the happiness derived from a good day.
The same reflective and pared-back style carries over into ‘Fade Like Rain’ and ‘Big Business’ as Chadwick continues to summon an emotive force that is as captivating as it is rudimentary.
Compared to the previous tracks and the dark places they explored, Chadwick in all her style and sensibility, winds Take Me Out To a Bar / What Am I, Gatsby? down with ‘The Show Mustn’t Go On’ which defies its predecessors with an optimistic and upwardly mobile closing track. A swan song acknowledging that it's ok to take time out, apply some self-care, and move ever forward
