Chan Marshall, the woman known as Cat Power, is no stranger to personal struggle. Her alcohol abuse, hospitalization, financial ruin and reputation for volatile live performances are infamous. I started listening to Cat Power during the height of my own struggles: I was a senior in high school; “The Greatest” was my favorite song; and I was miserable.

When every inch of my body felt too heavy to move, Chan Marshall cooed to me in this lazy, breathy slur that only pressed further down on the weight. She continually confirmed the demons in my mind telling me I wasn’t good enough: “Once I wanted to be the greatest / No wind or waterfall could stall me / And then came the rush of the flood / Stars of night turned deep to dust,” she sang, only encouraging me to indulge in my own misery.

It’s also a nod to another one of my favorite songs, David Bowie’s “Heroes.” The grand notion that one day I will be “king” is the thing that propels me. But while blind ambition and stubborn independence are two of my most intrinsic qualities, they are often my downfall. People I love are always telling me I am too hard on myself, I take on too much responsibility, I aim too high. Maybe I have to accept that I can’t be the greatest they say.

Well, I’d rather live my life fool-hardy and ham-fisted then let my fears define me. This is a ballsy album and sometimes its risks fall flat. But those qualities are what make “Sun” real. Chan Marshall has been through some real shit — realer then I have. And she is often portrayed as erratic, unstable or weak. Yeah, she’s swum with the sharks, but she’s learning to swim like the dolphins can swim. And hearing this kind of optimism from her is so incredibly uplifting.

Right now, this song is everything to me. Because I’m scared. And the lure of retreat is so tempting. But rather than indulging in the comfortable gloom of “Moonpix” or “The Greatest,” I’ll be basking in the “Sun.”

By Emily White