White Chalk

PJ HarveyWhite ChalkPJ Harvey works in threes. Not counting her demo album, Peel Sessions collection or collaborative album with John Parish (a tossed-off trilogy in it’s own right?), Harvey has thus far released two trilogies. First came the edgy, sex kitten (Dry, Rid of Me and To Bring You My Love), then the sweetly-produced art star (Is This Desire?, Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea and Uh Huh Her). And while she’s yet to release anything that resembles a bad album, her last release, Uh Huh Her, was just a bit too derivative of her previous two albums. Enter White Chalk, an album that is not just Harvey’s return to being starkly creative, but also quite possibly the beginning of a third era.

For starters, the whole of White Chalk was written on the piano, a first for Harvey, who was originally known for her jagged, abrasive guitar work. Fans of Harvey’s early records will instantly be happy to hear that White Chalk is also a return to more organic production. Opening with the excellent “The Devil,” we’re reminded of both Harvey’s firey and sweet vocals as she goes back and forth between the two styles over a subtle piano romp. It’s a memorable start to an album that likely won’t win over any new fans but will no doubt please her loyal flock.

Very clearly the least accessible record of her career, White Chalk incorporates a rhythm section only when absolutely needed, otherwise building on a simple formula of piano, voice, ambiance and other slight flourishes. Joining Harvey on the White Chalk sessions were drummer Jim White an multi-instrumentalists John Parish and Eric Drew Feldman. And yes, if you’re still wondering, Harvey is still famed manager Paul McGuinness’ No. 2 client behind U2, who Harvey has often toured with over the years. Don’t expect that with this album. Not even close. If Harvey were to tour the 11 new recordings on White Chalk with anyone, well, they’d have to be pretty subdued. Iceland’s Amiina comes to mind, as do Sigur Ros and mum.

All that said, White Chalk is a fine album that requires listeners to spend time learning the detail put into each song’s delicate composition. The title track, for example, features both nearly a capella verses and full swells, while “Broken Harp” is much less saturated, featuring little more than, you guessed it, a broken harp. “Dear Darkness,” too, keeps things minimal, utilizing little more than a piano and Harvey’s astounding vocal presence. And, in the end, that’s what we’re here for. Having proven her songcraft abilities time and time again through the years, White Chalk sees the woman responsible for everything from area rockers to punk songs stepping back, relying solely on her subtle composition skills and powerful vocals – the things at the gut of what made her a star.

So White Chalk might not be album-of-the-year material for most, but come the cold, grey months of December and January, this album – like Sigur Ros’ ( ) or The Microphones Mount Eerie – is the one I’ll be reaching for. White Chalk might only ever fair well with the diehards and disenchanted Tori Amos fans, but, for what it’s worth, it’s another side of PJ we haven’t seen yet; a beautiful, subtle side where the true payoff is hidden deep in the details.   8/10

Written by G. William Locke