Fabulous Photo Friday: Sarah McLachlan

Know what makes this past week of power outages, extreme heat, sticky-sweaty-ickiness, and general WTFery all better?

I was this close to Sarah McLachlan last night:

All your arguments are now invalid to Loba.

Seriously, this was the perfect way to make up for the hella week we’ve been having here in the D.C. area. I’ve loved Sarah McLachlan since my college days (all those many moons ago, right?), and she is only one of two musicians I will gladly pay top dollar to see in concert whenever they come to town (can you guess who the other is?).

Speaking of Tori (guess I gave that answer away), McLachlan seems to be taking a page from Amos’s current play book. Just like Amos, McLachlan is currently touring with orchestral accompaniment, from the National Philharmonic.

As with Amos’s music, McLachlan’s often down-tempo, haunting songs are perfectly suited for this type of musical enhancement. Regardless of the swelter that surrounded us (she played at Merriweather Post Pavillion, which is an outdoor venue), McLachlan’s voice, strengthened by strings, winds, and percussion was well worth the sweet summer sweat.

The highlight of the evening, as it usually is (for me, at least), was the new arrangement of “Possession,” one of McLachlan’s songs from her third (and my personal favorite) album Fumbling Towards Ecstasy.

The story behind this song is actually quite a dark one. McLachlan wrote “Possession” in response to rather disturbing letters received from some fans, including one “self-admitted stalker” named Uwe Vandrei. Vandrei sued McLachlan, saying that his love letters to her were the basis for “Possession.” The case never went to trial, however, because Vandrei committed suicide not long after filing his suit.

With lyrics like:

And I would be the one
To hold you down
Kiss you so hard
I’ll take your breath away
And after I’d wipe away the tears
Just close your eyes dear

you can’t help but wonder what kind of memories this song must invoke for McLachlan each time she sings it. Yet to watch her sing it is to watch her become the possessed and the possessor