Sarah Mclachlan: Afterglow

By GRAHAM REID

(Herald rating: * *)

Also absent for half a dozen years has been McLachlan, whose muted singer-songwriter folk-pop is notable for that emo-cliche of the catch in the throat (think a lesser version of that terrible woman who fronted the bloody awful Cranberries) and a soar heavenward on multi-tracked vocals and an updraught of strings.

McLachlan has had her moments in the past, but here there seems an odd disjunction between the superficial stuff (the emo, the strings, the life-affirming melodies) and what she's singing about. Over gentle melodies she tells us about the chaos of the modern world ("visions clash, planes crash ... we part the veil on our killer sun") and her personal crises ("you leave me here burning in this desert without you").

Her love songs are delivered with much the same musical and emotional disengagement. It's as if pretty and poise are the substitutes for what might really be going on outwardly or inwardly.

Add in some airbrushed cover shots which play up the eyes-closed meditative look or the coy girlie in op-shop chic and you've got an album which asks more questions than it appears to answer.

Label: Arista