PJ Harvey : White Chalk
“When I grow up…” is a mantra we’ve all heard and said throughout our years, and it has shades of fallacy. Do any of us really know when we have truly grown? What about an artist, someone who ages in front of our very eyes and ears—does their evolution and growth ever end? My favorite artists keep on evolving, changing and challenging themselves in their craft and at times their loyal audience. Thom Yorke, Björk, Jeff Tweedy and Bob Dylan come to mind as artists who are constantly molding their art into new shapes. The same can be said of Polly Jean Harvey. From the first time I heard her strums and youthful howls in “Sheela-Na-Gig” there was something in her voice that reached out and shook me. Harvey has a habit of taking listeners by the throat and caressing their hearts in the same song.
White Chalk is PJ Harvey stripped, at her most exposed, yet even with the stark sounds of these tracks we only get a glimpse of her genius. She no longer hides behind the mega licks we know and love from Rid of Me and Stories from the City. This is more a continuation of the lo-fi vibe that PJ started in Uh-Huh Her but with even sparser arrangements. And while it’s still her voice we hear, the best artists, of which Harvey can be counted, write with shades of their own experiences but have a way of making each song universal in nature, where, in essence, it becomes less about the artist and more about our own lives and our own experiences. That’s the mark of greatness.
“As soon as I’m left alone/ the devil wanders into my soul…and I pretend to myself,” sings Harvey on the opening track “The Devil.” It sounds like a twisted Spector-esque ’60s lovelorn pop song without the harmonious ending. It’s an interesting choice to start off White Chalk because the majority of the album has very minimal instrumentation. In fact, it sounds like PJ is getting her Under the Pink on, as she un-strapped the guitar and took up the piano keys, a-la Tori Amos. Although most of her songs on the album are based around piano melodies, that’s where the Tori comparisons started and end.
This is unmistakably a PJ Harvey album, as you can hear from the second track “Dear Darkness.” Even with the dark piano chords, the lyrics are pure PJ. “Dear Darkness” sounds like an open letter to her pain and sorrow as she asks “won’t you cover me, again?” We’ve all been there down with no hope in the horizon. I love the “tightening and tightening” angelic harmonies backing as PJ sings, “the words are tightening around my throat.” I hear it as the death knell of a relationship when there are no words to say, just the stares of anguished confusion. (I’ve been there before; it’s a state I would never want to relive ever again.) The space where lightness these two people once shared is now shadowed by the blanket of darkness which has not only covered their voices but their whole love affair.
Harvey captures a feeling of longing with her classical-based piano keys on “Grow Grow Grow.” In this song, PJ sings about a devout naturalist hoping the seed she plants will help her sprout love from above ground, and I adore the imagery of trampling the seed with her heavy boots. “When Under Ether” could be about a death of child, a love, or someone fighting a disease. The stark piano makes this song an almost funereal lament to the passing of a soul, that in someway was a stranger, but still had a connection whether it is physical or emotional in nature to the protagonist of the song.
The title track sounds as if it would have fit perfectly on Dance Hall on Louse Point, PJ Harvey’s collaboration with John Parish. This acoustic beauty continues the theme of loss of life as heard on “When Under Ether.” Is this song about the white chalk that is seen at crime scenes around a dead body or about the death of an unborn child? “The Piano” is one of the most powerful songs on the album, with the haunting refrain of “Oh God, I miss you,” revisiting on the recurring themes of White Chalk the appearance of ghost, whether it be in spirits or memories, signaling loss or death is most vibrant in this lively song.
The intimate “Broken Harp” is a sign for love gone wrong. The harp is a symbol that is used when love is first felt, with angels playing the instrument overhead. I felt a connection with the final lyrics of this song: “I tried to learn your language/ but fell asleep/Half-undressed/ Unrecognizable to myself.” I have lived those words, getting lost in someone else’s life and finding your own identity has vanished in the process.
With every album, there is a new side of PJ Harvey that is uncovered. She is a complex artist with many shades and this is what’s made her an enduring artist. This latest offering is no exception. White Chalk is the latest piece of an ongoing puzzle: Will we ever learn the answer to the question, “who is Polly Jean Harvey?” Sometimes the yearning for answers by listening to the ever-changing shape of an artist is better than knowing the real thing.
Label: Island
Year: 2007
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PJ Harvey : White Chalk
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