Won’t get erased like chalk: White Chalk, PJ Harvey’s last album is unclassifiable among her discography.
Outstanding. Beyond categories even. Yet, it’s her, there isn’t a doubt about it. She is so present in this record, as much as in all the others, but it’s her maturity, as a woman, as an artist that is more asserted than in any other. The guitar is gone, replaced by a clumsy yet heartrending piano, all over which the singer’s fingers go with the same fierceness mixed with smoothness they used to apply to the strings. Polly Jean grew up, her universe too, so much that it’s not exactly a part of ours anymore. It’s from another dimension that she brings those harrowing songs, this high-pitched voice, these grazed lyrics that move us to an indescribable point, this timeless lyricism that lies in each and every track of the album. Even on the jacket, the young woman seems to be coming from another time, a time which wouldn’t exactly exist, a time that would be lost in the shelves of a library, between Jane Eyre and Bram Stoker. And this young woman whose dress might have belonged to the Brönte sisters brings gripping songs from this indefinable time. Like To Talk To You where she easily talks to her grand-mother, already gone to the beyond ‘under the earth wish I was with you’ ; Before Departure where she invites a whole bunch of talented musicians as steeped in this spectral universe as she is, and to whom the lyrics seem to wink ‘friends that last will dance one more time with me’ ; or also Dear Darkness that takes us a little more in the gloom of this magnificent disc ‘dear darkness now it’s your time to look after us’. These lyrics she defends aren’t autobiographical confirm everything the music was already saying: the new dimension personified by Harvey is dark but never dismal, deep but never heavy, high-pitched but never sharp, wonderful of ageless torments. PJ tells us about her new perception of things, as in The Devil, the beautiful opening song ‘what formly cheered me now seems insignificant’ ; she tells us about her will to change, towards a height that can’t be measured in Grow Grow Grow ‘teach me how to grow’ ; she tells us about what really matters in When Under Ether ‘when under ether the mind comes alive but conscious of nothing but the will to survive’ ; she tells us about the everlasting, what was, is, will be, in White Chalk, the title song ‘on a path cut fifteen hundred years ago’ ; she tells us about what makes our lives hollow in Broken Harp ‘please don’t reproach me for, for how empty my life has become’ ; she tells us through those powerful lyrics about the woman she’s becoming, Silence is a song that says a lot ‘I’d risen this morning determined to break spare my longing, not to think’ ; she finally tells us about that second birth, that bend she’s going through and that gorgeous album illustrates, in The Mountain ‘high above the mountain an eagle calling down to the soldier who falters the soldier on the ground. But, to my ears, The Piano is the true master of piece, as a proof of the major part the instrument played in the witchcraft of this universe set into place by a PJ Harvey who keeps surprising us endlessly ‘nobody’s listening nobody’s listening’. We are listening, and she always enchants us with her music.
She confides us (in the Inrockuptibles): ‘The doors of my imaginary world seem wide open: I go wherever I want, nothing withholds me.’ And we can only be delighted.
Thank you Polly Jean, for this new delicious and upsetting album which I’m not even close to let go.