I simply write the songs I write and if it works, it works.” Rather than take Madonna’s path of manic recycled reinvention, Mc Lachlan has stuck to what she knows.
She says she won’t be putting out a dance or jazz album anytime soon.
“All those male anchors went away within four days of each other.” But instead of diving back into the lyrical canon of despair and producing carbon copies of past hits such as , plays up her new-found appreciation for erotic pleasure.
The song was encouraged by a powerful romantic relationship in her life.
Her mother’s disapproval fuelled her to sign a solo contract in 1988—the deal with Nettwerk Records that bound her to the Vancouver-based label for 23 years.
Two of the lead singles— (written with Mc Lachlan’s daughters in mind, 12-year-old India and six-year-old Taja)—come from the Doucet collaboration.
“Even though my parents had supported me in music, they thought of it as just a nice hobby.” Mc Lachlan is sitting in an oversized chocolate couch with a view of a granite pool, a tipi-shaped guest house (her personal assistant’s office) and the deck, which has a pair of rattan swings on it, woven with giant daisy motifs.
Her home is filled with Indonesian-, African- and Asian-styled furnishings that look as though they were snapped up at a Moroccan street market, or a Pier 1 Imports outlet.
“I refuse to force a song in a direction because it’s going to get radio play—I’m an album-oriented artist.
I’m not Miley Cyrus and I’m not Katy Perry and I haven’t fit myself into that category; it’s pretty narrow.
“People collect ideas about you and fabricate this persona, and then that’s all they ever have of you,” she adds.