Credit: Darren Sylvester
Content warning: This story contains serious discussions about mental health, including accounts of attempted suicide. The views expressed are exclusively those of the interview subject and are not to be confused with professional advice. You can find resources at the bottom of this story should you need to seek help.
In August 2019, New Zealand musician Sarah Mary Chadwick decided to take her own life. She declines to go into the specifics with
NME, bar one conversation from the ambulance ride:
Paramedic: âWhat do you do for a job?â
Chadwick: âIâm a chef. What do you do?â
Content warning: The following review contains discussion of suicide. Confessional as a musical adjective was beaten into the ground by writers decades ago, but on her latest album Sarah Mary Chadwick digs it up and dances with its proverbial corpse.
Me & Ennui Are Friends, Baby is the conclusion to a ramshackle trilogy of records about trauma and grief by the Melbourne via New Zealand singer-songwriter. The former two technically boast a grander scale –
The Queen Who Stole The Sky (2019) was recorded live on Melbourne Town Hall s 147-year-old grand organ, while
Please Daddy (2020) was Chadwick s first full-band outing – but her latest manages to be her most monumental statement of sorrow yet, featuring just piano and vocals.
Sarah Mary Chadwick Shares New Album Me & Ennui Are Friends, Baby Annabel Kean / Friday 5th February, 2021 2:01PM
Sarah Mary Chadwick has written a flawless Valentine s album:
Me & Ennui Are Friends, Baby. A little less dramatic than the one she played on a 147 year-old grand organ, this record is just Chadwick, a normal piano, and her usual, inimitable lyrics.
Me & Ennui Are Friends, Baby is the last in a three-part project, preceded by LPs
Please Daddy, and judging by its availability on floss pink vinyl and Chadwick s cherry red nails on the cover, this is clearly the most romantic of the trio. From the touching line