Sarah McLachlan Is an Open Book

Sarah McLachlan is bursting with hope—but she knows it might not always seem that way. “People will say, ‘Oh, you’re so sad all the time.’ And I’m like, ‘No, I’m actually one of the happiest people in the world!’” the iconic Canadian musician tells me over the phone from her home in Vancouver. “I have this amazing outlet: I have music as a means to sort through my pain.”

Throughout her career, the 57-year-old singer-songwriter has won three Grammys and sold 40 million albums, capturing the world with her poignant approach to songwriting. She also physically connected music fans by founding Lilith Fair, the 1990s-era groundbreaking all-woman music festival featuring an A-list lineup from Fiona Apple to Tracy Chapman.

“I remember how it was to be in the pubic eye back then,” she reflects. “There was a prevailing culture of picking women apart. I think that is now pervasive once again—even getting worse in some ways—but I do think that we made advances.”

On September 19, she released Better Broken, her first new album in over a decade. “I love this record so much,” she says. “But for me, it’s not about selling records. It never has been. I love playing live, and I love having new material to play, so I’m excited to get back on the road.”

Another reason she has to celebrate: a new documentary in her honour, Lilith Fair: Building A Mystery. Having premiered at TIFF and now available for streaming on CBC Gem, it revisits her life in the ’90s and explores the story behind the musical movement she started decades ago.

Though her vulnerability is sometimes mistaken for sadness, sharing her inner thoughts with the world isn’t something she considers brave, but rather, necessary. “It’s just who I am—I’m a very open book,” she says. “Anybody can ask me anything, and I usually answer very honestly. I don’t know how to be any other way.”

Below, Sarah McLachlan talks self-discovery, ’90s fashion and the art of trying something new.

On Better Broken, you sing about having worked hard to know yourself. Do you think that’s something that comes with age?

I would hope so! I’m 57, and life is lumpy. There are a lot of bumps and turns in the road, and that’s where you learn who you are, what you’re made of and how you want to show up in the world.

You’ve talked about coming to L.A. early in your career, feeling pressured to look a certain way and leaving because of it. What was that like?

When I was 19 and I got signed to an independent label in Vancouver, I was given full creative freedom, which, unbeknownst to me, was unheard of. About a year and a half later, when I went down to L.A. and met a stylist for the first time, she was trying to put me into these constricting Jean Paul Gaultier suits; trying to create a sense of style for me, because she didn’t think I had one. She kind of looked me up and down and was like, “What do I even do with this?”

I remember being in L.A. for about a week and thinking, “I came here really liking myself and being completely happy with how I looked, and I’m not sure I could stay here for very long and continue to feel that way, so I need to get out of here.” It was great, because it cured me of any inclination to think I should move to Los Angeles.

It’s impressive that you had that self-certainty at 20 years old.

Even though I had a healthy dose of self-loathing and insecurity that my mother instilled in me, there was something in me that was stronger than that. I knew I didn’t want anybody telling me what I should do or how I should be. I wanted to figure that out myself. I’m stubborn that way.

Looking back at when you founded Lilith Fair, was there a sense of safety in performing alongside other women?

I had a general feeling of, “I don’t want to do this alone.” This is a strange and lonely job. And for me, it magnified the desire for community and for being able to connect with other women who have a similar, strange job. Every artist I talked to about it has been like, “Oh yeah, I’ve had stalkers.” We all share these crazy experiences.

Lilith Fair has been called the pinnacle of late ’90s fashion. What was your approach to styling yourself for those shows?

I’m a magpie. Give me some sparkle and some shine and I’m all over it. I mean, not in my day-to-day, but on stage, you need to be larger than life. I’ll never forget I had these blue Gucci pants that were just crazy ridiculous. I had a lot of Betsey Johnson. I got to go to her showroom and pick out a bunch of runway stuff—I was a kid in a candy store. Her gowns were fun and playful, but they were also really comfortable. To me, that was paramount. I have to be able to flail around and have everything stay in place.

What’s bringing you joy these days, outside of work?

Spending time with my daughters. Getting out in the woods every day. Playing the piano. Gardening. I rode my bike on the beach for the first time this summer, and I forgot how it makes me feel like I’m 12 years old. I’ve been cooking a ton. I’ve been trying new things. I mean, I am really lucky.