REVIEW: Tara MacLean, Passenger (Capitol)
- Paul Andersen
Like many of us in the music journalism field (yes, we can be lazily affected by comparisons and labels -- sorry, but it's true, and I'll admit it), the first thought that came to mind as I slipped this in the CD tray was, "Hmm, must be another Sarah McLachlan." After all, both are Canadian, and she spent a few years on the Lilith circuit.
So much for being lazy (though if I *were* still labeling, Aimee Mann comes to mind). Tara MacLean travels a road that is highly eclectic, bringing ingredients of folk, pop, a bit of jazz chanteuse and an ethereal world stew that is befitting of her upbringing.
Born on Prince Edward Island in Canada's eastern Maritime Provinces, not exactly your standard hotbed of future pop music stardom, MacLean was brought up by parents who were, well, pagans living in a log cabin, until they became born-again Christians, but of a hippie variety, who constantly moved throughout the world, with time spent in England, the Caribbean and Canada's west coast. This upbringing has had its effect on her music: nature, myth, unity and eternal chaos are explored lyrically, and there is an undeniable spirituality that infuses this disc.
Which is not to say that it is all love and happiness and peace signs. Songs like "Jericho," which leads off the disc, sway towards the spiritual, as does "Jordan," but further along the content gets earthier ("Poor Boy"). But it is the swirling "Divided" that best displays MacLean's unique vision. With quiet electronics and a killer hook of a chorus that will stay in the brain long after, it is a higher ground view of the dividing lines between people. "Come let faith be your garden/Always changing always still/Still breathing," she sings, asking that you "check your weapons at the door." Maybe not your standard pop fodder, but it is nice to come across someone with a wider view. And besides, it's got a damn good beat, too.
