When I was in high school, I had this great musical love. She was so talented, her songs blew my mind. I would drive around Ottawa’s suburbs aimlessly singing along. I listened to that album so much; friends would ask if I could turn her off. I bought all her other albums, in awe of her audio abilities. Then her next effort left me crestfallen and the affair ended. And after listening to White Chalk, I see it was the right decision.
I am of course referring to uber-indie darling PJ Harvey. The disc that started my entire infatuation with her was 2000’s Mercury prize-winning Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea. That album straddled rock, pop and folk perfectly. Her earlier efforts, To Bring You My Love, Rid of Me and Dry, showcase her chameleon-like evolution. Each album has great, epic songs, some with veins of punk flowing through them and others with channels of chamomile tea. PJ never remains constant; she’s always mutating and experimenting. On White Chalk, she annexes the piano; and ends up sounding like PJ-light. I think she might have taken Tori Amos’ anti-depressants. After 2004’s subdued and lo-fi Uh Huh Her, I thought she’d come back to rock it out once more, but apparently not.
The opener, “The Devil”, at first seems promising; the repetitious piano creates an infectious beat. When PJ chimes in it’s off putting and alarming, sounding like a cluster bomb of castrated tenors are about to flatten you. Her choice of stiff soprano isn’t really new for her, nothing’s new for PJ she’s tried it all, yet that unpleasant tone remerges through out the album. Her voice is laced with chloroform on the majority of tracks.
I think “Grow Grow Grow” is about foot fungus, or something as annoying the song sounds. The dull piano hammers away, played out and as painful as a boomerang of bees.
There are of course some high points; you have to give her some credit. The title track is comforting and creative. The whispered trio of harmonica, piano and guitar is soothing and catchy in that odd PJ-way.
The later tracks like “Piano”, which talks about smashing someone’s teeth in, “Before Departure” and “The Mountain” (minus her cat-in-heat wails) are where she gets it right, recalling “Stories’… We Float”. PJ does do fluffy and breezy right on occasion but an entire album of cotton is rotten.
As a fan, what are you supposed to say? Of course they can do whatever they want, who are we to tell them no? But we don’t have to like it. PJ usually delivers a varied offering, hard and soft. White Chalk is so soft it’s fucking talcum powder.
In an interview with Spin PJ said she never writes an album for anybody else and does like to feel comfortable in the song writing process. I can totally respect that, but here’s a suggestion; take that white chalk and write on the blackboard: I WILL BE HARD AND SOFT, I WILL BE HARD AND SOFT. Now Ms. Harvey did you learn your lesson?
