PJ Harvey "White Chalk" - One Review to Read as You Listen

Polly Jean Harvey is one of the most enigmatic artists of our time. Her ability to shed skins and take on new ones is so different from mainstream music "artists" that can do nothing more than write what they know, and that is all they know. Ms. Harvey cannot not labeled or put into any box, not can you even call her simply a "recording artist." She accomplishes so much more in her work. Yes, it's music and it's recorded, but there is something so much deeper going on.

White Chalk is like no other album put out by PJ Harvey. It is not so much an album, in that it is eleven songs, with a couple of radio-friendly singles. It is a true piece of art. There is thought behind the songs included and the order in which they are presented. There is continuity and an almost organic build to songs, from "The Devil" to "The Mountain". Furthermore, White Chalk is a tale of loss, profound sadness, and directed anger that is muffled in its futility.

If you are expecting the PJ Harvey "sound" of driving, angry guitar work and fierce howling and screams, you will not find that on White Chalk. Instead, you find a sweet, soft, nearly soprano Harvey with a high-key piano. Her voice in the higher octaves has become richer, fuller, and absolutely lovely. However, no guitar work anywhere on the album may seem odd to some fans, but not unexpected for the devout. Harvey is an artist that is always looking to expand her repertoire of instruments, and moods, and themes, and characters.

The White Chalk character is a ghostly, nearly ghastly figure. She has terminated a pregnancy, she has been betrayed, she has given her soul to the devil in the first song, and she is saying goodbye to the cruel, cold world around her. Yet, don't think of this as a depressing album. It is more a mood piece, an exploration of the darker side of decisions made. And it is really quite beautiful.

The album art on White Chalk reflects an old-fashioned fatalism. Harvey sits in a white long-sleeved dress from another era, against a black wall with a spotlight pointed directly at her face. With no smile or expression, Harvey looks like a shell of a woman, with her hands demurely in her lap, reminiscent of a daguerrotype. Her voice throughout sounds as if it is coming from another plane, far away, yet soothingly whispered in your ear.

Harvey teamed up with producers Flood and John Parish again on this album. Eric Drew Feldman accompanies her on keyboards and piano and Jim White on drums. The sound is sparse at times, with only Harvey's soft, high-register voice and an equally soft, high piano.

"Grow Grow Grow" does become more involved and full, and Harvey allows her pain to grow into a crescendo for a moment. The music becomes fuller, before dying down into nothing again. "When Under Ether" is the first single, though that is somewhat of a misnomer because this is hardly a song to make it into the Top 40 countdown. "When Under Ether" is a girl coming out of the once popular anethestic for abortions. The loss of that child continues into the next song, "White Chalk", which refers to the chalk cliffs of Dorset where Harvey grew up.

The album's story then moves into the girl's need "To Talk To You", in which the girl wishes she could talk to her dead grandmother. You are not sure if it is about the now dead child, or what's coming up in the next song, "The Piano", a tale of the family breaking up. Finally, we come to her exit from possibly this world, as she sings to her friends in "Before Departure." The new ghost or soon-to-be-a-ghost ends up at "The Mountain", and her screams are the last sound we hear.

White Chalk is not so much an album as a story set in poetry to music. Harvey has taken on characters before, notably in To Bring You My Love, and you can hear some of the same themes of lost love and loss of self.

For any fan of PJ Harvey, White Chalk will be another amazing chapter in Harvey's art.