There is something haunting about a voice that feels like it’s floating over a mist-covered lake at 3:00 AM. Sarah McLachlan has that voice. When she teamed up with the Indigo Girls and Jewel for their rendition of The Water Is Wide, they didn’t just cover a folk song. They basically summoned a ghost.
Honestly, if you grew up in the late '90s, you probably remember the Lilith Fair era. It was all long skirts, acoustic guitars, and a very specific kind of emotional intensity. Water Is Wide Sarah McLachlan became a standout moment of that movement, specifically on the Lilith Fair: A Celebration of Women in Music live album released in 1998. It’s a song about the impossibility of love, or maybe the exhaustion of it.
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The Mystery of the Song’s Origins
Most people think this is just a pretty ballad. It’s actually much darker than that. The song, often called "O Waly, Waly," dates back to the 1600s. It’s a Scottish "Child Ballad" (specifically related to Child Ballad #204, Jamie Douglas).
The lyrics aren't just about a wide river. They are about a marriage falling apart due to lies and betrayal. When Sarah sings, "But love grows old, and waxes cold," she’s tapping into four centuries of heartbreak.
Why This Version is Different
- The Harmonies: You’ve got the earthy, low tones of the Indigo Girls (Amy Ray and Emily Saliers) anchoring the bottom.
- The Ethereal Factor: Sarah’s voice sits right on top, clear as glass.
- The Jewel Contribution: Jewel adds that slight yodel-adjacent folk texture that was her signature back then.
It’s not overproduced. That’s the key. In a world of digital pitch correction, this live recording feels vulnerable. You can hear the breath. You can hear the crowd. It feels real.
The Water Is Wide Sarah McLachlan: A Lilith Fair Legacy
The performance wasn't just a musical choice; it was a statement. When Sarah McLachlan founded Lilith Fair, promoters told her that two women on a radio bill was a "risk." She responded by putting dozens of women on a stage together.
Ending sets with The Water Is Wide became a symbol of that collective power. The "boat that can carry two" in the lyrics takes on a new meaning when you see three of the biggest female stars of the decade sharing a single microphone.
Does it hold up in 2026?
Surprisingly, yeah. Folk music has a weird way of staying relevant because the problems it describes—longing, distance, the fading of passion—don't actually change. While Sarah’s newer 2025/2026 work (like her album Better Broken) leans into more modern textures, her acoustic roots are where her "E-E-A-T" (Expertise, Experience, Authoritativeness, and Trustworthiness) as a vocalist really shines.
She isn't just singing a melody. She’s interpreting a text that has survived wars, migrations, and the death of the vinyl record.
Fact Check: Common Misconceptions
A lot of fans think Sarah wrote this. She didn't. Others think it’s an Irish song. Technically, it's Scottish, though it’s been traded back and forth across the Irish Sea so many times that the borders are blurry.
Some people also confuse it with "Carrickfergus," which uses similar imagery ("But the sea is wide / I cannot swim over"). They are cousins, but not the same song. Sarah’s version sticks to the Cecil Sharp arrangement from 1906, which is the most "standard" version we know today.
Actionable Listening Guide
If you want to really "get" why this version matters, don't just stream it on crappy phone speakers.
- Find the Live Version: Look specifically for the 1998 Lilith Fair, Vol. 1 recording. The studio versions by other artists are fine, but they lack the "hair-standing-on-your-arm" energy of this specific trio.
- Listen for the "Swell": About halfway through, the harmonies shift from unison to a three-part spread. It’s a masterclass in vocal arrangement.
- Compare to Pete Seeger: If you want to see how far the song traveled, listen to Pete Seeger’s 1958 version. It’s much more rigid. Sarah’s version "breathes" in a way that Seeger’s didn't allow.
The song is a reminder that you don't need a wall of sound to make something heavy. Sometimes, just a guitar and a few voices telling a 400-year-old truth is plenty.