Tori Amos: Little
Earthquakes
Tori’s first album (officially) and my first exposure to her. The first time I heard this album was in the tape deck of my old Corolla, with my girlfriend and a friend. We listened to “Silent All These Years” and analyzed its deeper meaning for quite some time. We talked about what it meant, where the emotions came from and who could share those feelings. Did we ever feel that way? Were these primarily feelings of feminine loss and alienation? Or was it possible for men to share these feelings. We didn’t get very far.
But my friend took these words to heart. They really meant something to her and, I suspect, gave voice to some of her darker demons that needed to be
exorcised. Sadly, she didn’t listen very closely because she tried another, more permanent way to voice and
exorcise those demons. She didn’t succeed, thankfully. But it was a scary moment that made me realize that sometimes the pain you see on the surface of your friends is only the tip of the iceberg. That sometimes asking “How are you?” isn’t nearly enough.
Tori’s voice is pained, angry and distant on this disc. She really delves into her darker, more frightening emotions on this disc. Though she’s put out some wonderful material since “Little Earthquakes”, she has never again reached this level of raw, painful emotion.
Tori Amos: Crucify [EP]
An offshoot from “Little Earthquakes”, this EP contains a remix of Crucify (a wonderfully angry song disguised by some beautiful melodies and piano work) as well as some Tori covers of some wonderful songs.
I bought this for my, then, soon to be wife. She loves Tori Amos, most likely because she too feels Tori gives voice to her darker feelings. I knew about this EP because someone I once knew had it. So, I bought it for my lovely wife because I knew she’d love it. I can’t remember if it was for a birthday, Valentine’s Day, Christmas or for no reason at all. But I did.
My selfish reasons for picking it up were simple. I wanted to hear Tori’s take on the Led Zeppelin song “Thank You.” The Zeppelin version is gorgeous. It’s one of the most beautiful love songs I’ve heard written by neo-hippies. From the moment Robert Plant sings, “If the sun refused to shine I would still be loving you” the song just tells a wonderful story of love, devotion and heart-felt platitudes. When Tori sings it, however, it’s almost sad. She sings it as a woman who truly loves the subject of the song, but doesn’t know if she has the confidence to let him/her know. She sings it soulfully, but with a reservation. Almost as if every “I love you” has a question mark because of her fear that the person hearing it will reject her emotions. It’s a tough listen, but well worth it.
From what I understand, this gift was the first time that my, then, soon to be wife knew that I understood who she was. It was a simple gift that was perfect for her. And you know what? It’s the little, no meaning gifts that actually mean more. There’s no reason to buy them other than you see it and think, “She NEEDS this!” More often than not, your impulse is true. But, more so, she will be impressed that you were thinking about her for no other reason than because you love her.
Tori Amos: Under the Pink
This may seem difficult to believe but . . . this was the only CD that was a duplicate when my wife and I combined our collections. Granted, mine numbered in the hundreds, hers in the tens. However, it’s hard to believe that two people who could sit and talk about obscure books we loved in our childhood could only have one CD that was the same. Go figure. Shortly afterward, however, our Tori collection grew by leaps and bounds. And well it should.
This is Tori’s most listenable album. It has “Cornflake Girl” and “God.” I bought it at about the time my mother died. I remember sitting in the parking lot of the gas station my friend worked at, blasting “God” and feeling that same way. I remember thinking, when she sang, “God sometimes you just don't come through” that she was right. If there was a God, he wasn’t listening. If he were, my mom would still be around. After all, wasn’t the world a better place with her in it? Hell yes. I’ve learned since then not to misdirect my anger. Call these forces what you will, God, Nature, Aliens, you have no control. You can be angry, but not to the point where you don’t listen anymore. It’s silly.
I was also particularly touched, probably for the same reasons, by this passage from “Pretty Good Year”, in fact I still am:
Tears on the sleeve of a man
don't want to be a boy today
heard the eternal footman
bought himself a bike to race
and Greg he writes letters and burns his CDs
they say you were something in those formative years
hold onto nothing as fast as you can
well still pretty good year
Pretty well summed up my mindset then. With my mother gone, my anchor, how was I to go on? How could I move on? How could I accomplish anything? She was the one, after all, that continually pushed me out of the nest saying, “You CAN fly! You just have to try.”
I still love this CD, but rarely listen to it these days. Those are emotions I don’t like to visit. Tori voiced my feelings at the time, but I’ve learned a better way of dealing with things. It comes from Kurt
Vonnegut:
“We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.”
Same thing my mother would have said, only different.
Tori
Amos: God [CD-SINGLE]
I have to be honest. I don’t remember who picked this up, my
wife or me. This disc was from a period between 1998 and 2000
where we listened to Tori almost non-stop. Me at my desk at work,
she at hers. Or both of us at home.
This particular single contains some rather odd bits. The one
that stands out the most is “Home on the Range.” What drove
Tori to record this is beyond me. The song showcases her piano
playing very well. However, Tori fools you. This is the Cherokee
version of the song, which talks about how Jackson cuts deals and
Cherokee women are left to die on the Trail of Tears. It’s a
bittersweet song about a horrid pox on our national history that
is, quite sadly, often ignored. Tori does her best to capture some
of that horror, but it doesn’t quite work. An original melody
may have worked better.
The other two songs aren’t all that exciting. Normally Tori
Amos singles contain some real hidden gems. This one isn’t the
case. The other two songs sound like a piano bar act. Short on
wisdom, long on piano crescendos. For obvious reasons, my wife and
I didn’t listen to this one much.
I looked at the cover quite a bit, though. Tori looks great.
Almost like a slightly demonic Nancy Travis.
Tori
Amos: Boys for Pele
Again, this one is technically my wife’s CD. But I’ve listened
to it many times. And, I’m sad to say; I’ve never connected
with it. There are plenty of plaintive wails, minor chords and
bitter platitudes. I can hear the strokes of brilliance in the
lyrics, and I enjoy the interesting instrumentals, but emotionally
Tori goes straight past me and straight for my wife. I think this
is a women’s CD. To me, the lyrics are an interesting, abstract,
emotional tableau. To my wife it is the bible for any woman who
has been marginalized, victimized, or any other –ized. It’s
the musical version of Virginia Woolf’s “A Room of One’s
Own.”
My testosterone-addled brain can’t hear this. I hear the
music, I hear the lyrics and I enjoy the songs. But it doesn’t
deal with an alienation I can understand. I’m not a woman and,
even with surgery, I doubt I would ever feel the deep emotions of
this disc. At times they are truly painful. But they don’t match
up with my own emotions and experiences because, when I hear
“Blood Roses” I think of red roses and try to ignore the true
meaning of the lyrics. Women think of a dark day when something
precious was taken from them. They are vile, painful images and I
have a hard time accepting them. They are the David Lynch film of
the musical world. And I love David Lynch. But Tori goes places
that scare me in this CD. It’s too dark, even for me.
Does this make me a misogynist? Should I force myself to accept
these examples of the types of debasement that many women are
forced to endure? Do I have to confront some sort of Madonna/Whore
complex that I have? Or do I find it so painful because when Tori
is singing about having something stolen from her, it’s not her
face I picture.
Maybe the pain that connects so well with women is a pain I
have to ignore because I’m afraid of the women I love
experiencing it? Or maybe I’m just a man. And some of these
emotions just aren’t for me.
Tori Amos: Goddess
This one has no Amazon link because it is . . . a dreaded bootleg.
One of our first in my collection (though many won’t be
mentioned because they are Elvis Costello CDs, which I won’t be
cataloguing . . . .too many).
I bought this disc for my wife as we were planning our wedding.
I was at a local record shop whose selection moves between urbane
and mundane. I came across this CD and felt I had to pick it up
because I knew she’d love it. And she did. It contains a slew of
on-air radio appearances in support of Boys for Pele. Most
notably, however, is a bastardization of “Cornflake Girl” from
Under the Pink, entitled “Gary’s Girl” (“I’m gonna be
Gary’s girl . . .”). Clearly we had to figure out how to play
this at the wedding. I mean, clearly, she WAS Gary’s Girl.
Right?
Well, no. We never did play it at the wedding. That was silly.
This disc contains one true gem. Tori sings one of my favorite
Bruce Springsteen songs, “Thunder Road.” I’ve always
connected with that song. It’s a plea to hit the open road and
forsake everything. However, when Tori sings it, it feels more
like Mary’s song.
She sings it like this:
The screen door slams
Mary's dress waves
Like a vision she dances across the porch
As the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely
Hey that's me and I want you only
Don't turn me home again
I just can't face myself alone again
Don't run back inside
darling you know just what I'm here for
So you're scared and you're thinking
That maybe we ain't that young anymore
Show a little faith, there's magic in the night
You ain't a beauty, but hey you're alright
Oh and boy that's alright with me
Oh oh come take my hand
Riding out tonight to case the Promised Land
Oh oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road
oh Thunder Road
Lying out there like a killer in the sun
Hey I know it's late we can make it if we run
Oh Thunder Road, sit tight take hold
Thunder Road
Show a little faith, there's magic in the night
You ain't a beauty, but hey you're alright
Oh and that's alright with me
As she sings it, Mary is settling as much as the boy is. They
both need escape and they are going out there together. It’s not
exactly love, but it has an air of hope around it. That somewhere
out there, there’s something better. That the open road holds an
appeal that home doesn’t.
And don’t all we all feel that way sometimes?
Tori
Amos: From the Choirgirl Hotel
This disc had me from the moment Tori sings, “She’s addicted
to nicotine patches.” I’ve always loved that image. Such an
odd thing to have a particular hankering for, and yet not outside
the bounds of reality.
For me this represented a return to the Tori Amos I truly
enjoyed. Odd arrangements, vitriolic and poetic lyrics, anger,
passion and strange sexual images that shouldn’t be sexual and
yet . . . are.
This was probably the first real Tori Amos CD my wife and I
purchased together. No doubt she got into it more than I did. I
don’t deny that. I’m sure its innate feminine rage touched her
in ways I wouldn’t understand.
And yet, songs like “Black-Dove (January)”, “Raspberry
Swirl”, “Jackie’s Strength” and “Playboy Mommy” were
particularly potent songs for me. “Black-Dove (January)” is
one of those songs that paints an odd picture that sticks in my
mind. Standing at the edge of the woods—or is it the edge of the
galaxy?
This particular disc doesn’t hold any special memories for
me, outside of laying on the couch with my intended, listening to
“Raspberry Swirl” swirl around my surround sound system while
we planned our wedding.
Tori
Amos: Music: Jackie's Strength
Yet another CD Single. I’m not sure why I bought this one. Most
likely it was purchased for the pure amusement of my wife. A
pursuit I find endlessly enjoyable. Or, perhaps it was the
alluring image of Tori Amos in a wedding dress splayed out on the
back seat of a circa 1965 sedan. What can I say? I’m a sucker
for retro-psycho-sexual-imagery. Maybe. I don’t know.
This song has always intrigued me. I have no idea what it’s
really about. However, I always picture a young Jackie Kennedy on
the day her husband was assassinated. Jackie was always the poster
girl for American women in the sixties. A combination beauty,
motherhood, poise and smoldering sexuality. Maybe I have a thing
for pillbox hats?
For some reason I feel like this song is an ode to a woman who
watched her husband die next to her. It represents so many human
fears that it’s too juicy to pass up. But, for all I know the
song is actually about a woman who can open pickle jars with her
pinkies.
Tori
Amos: Music: To Venus & Back
If I’ve listened to this CD once, it’s more than I remember.
By this time I think I was pretty Toried out. It’s not that I
didn’t enjoy her music any longer. That’s not true. But I
probably had moved on musically, in my mind. If I recall, this
came out about the same time as my obsession with Brian Wilson
began.
There’s only one thing I recall about this disc. It’s that
it was purchased in the Tower Records at Disney’s West Side in
Walt Disney World on our honeymoon. My wife bought this. I bought
a CD of live performances from SNL (it had Elvis Costello’s
infamous Radio, Radio performance). We didn’t have a CD player
with us. So the fact that we bought discs on this trip is pretty
odd. Though, I suppose, I’ll always remember those two discs.
Anderson
Bruford Wakeman Howe
One of the problems with revisiting your musical past is that you
sometimes find some clunkers. Discs that you wish you had never
purchased, or that you wouldn’t admit to owning.
I fully expected to have that reaction to this disc. It’s
from the beginnings of my prog rock days in High School. I bought
this, originally, on cassette when it came out in 1989. I was but
a tadpole in the primordial ooze of music. I was investigating
musical styles. And I found progressive rock. I’m not ashamed to
admit that I still enjoy prog rock. Classic Yes is a wonder to
behold in its complexity. Certain bands like Marillion have been
able to continue playing prog rock by warping the definition over
the years. I shudder at the thought of my hair.
But this disc. Well . . . it’s over-produced, over-wrought,
over-performed and over-written. And yet I still enjoy it.
There’s a closing piano figure that Rick Wakeman plays on
“Brother of Mine” that still stuns me. The man has to have
extra fingers.
I strongly remember laying on my bed, a few years after getting
the cassette with my newly purchased CD version, forlorn over my
stinging love of a girl named Andrea something. She was to be my
true love. I wanted to show her that I was much cooler than this
supposed love of her life named Geronimo (I’m not kidding,
though he was certainly no leader). I’d listen to “The
Meeting” and “Let’s Pretend” in the dark for hours. Why?
Because I was a pathetic loser, that’s why.
To this day I still despise the song “Teakbois”. I hate
that song with a passion.
ABWH:
Evening of Yes Music Plus
The story for this one is pretty much the same as above. Except my
memories of it are far better than this one. These two discs
contain some of the most soulless versions of some great Yes songs
that I’ve ever heard. I’m amazed that I spent hours listening
to this.
Well, no, not really. I thought I was cool. Sad as it was. I
really did. Sigh.
Apples
in Stereo: Her Wallpaper Reverie [EP]
If anything, this band has one of the greatest names in the
history of music. I have no idea what it means, nor do I care.
This was my second disc purchase for this band and, sadly, I’ve
fallen way behind in my purchasing habits of Apples in Stereo. I
should be flogged.
Technically, this is a “concept EP”. The premise is a woman
looking at the pattern of her wallpaper and going off into lala
land. It’s a beautiful idea, if you’re into those psuedo-esoteric
ideas from the sixties. I am. The Apples blend a dreamy Beatle-esque
sound with a frantic, melodic, frightened Brian Wilson
sensibility. It’s wonderful music. Wonderful.
I used to listen to the track “Benefits of Lying (With Your
Friend)” on the way to work at StreamSearch. I’d listen to it,
over and over and over. I don’t think it tells you anything
about me that I listened to that song too much. Unless you count
my obsessive nature. Or the fact that I dig the groovy guitar.
I also love “Strawberry Fire”. It’s an obvious ode to the
Beatles in the “Strawberry Fields” era. It’s a song that
makes me wish I was a groovy guy with my own psychedelic pad, man.
Way out.
Apples
in Stereo: The Discovery of a World Inside the Moone
As I sit here listening to the opening track of this CD, young
Matilda is proving why this is a great disc. She’s prancing
around, singing “You’re such a pretty, pretty, pretty little
girl . . .” That’s the exact reason why you should listen to
Apples in Stereo. They’re fun. Great pop music in the
truest sense of the word.
This CD purchase can be blamed purely on a guy named Jeff. He
and wife were living in Nashville. I imagine he was terribly
bored, because he kept making us some killer CDs (which I’ll
actually discuss later). These CDs became my lifeline into music.
I had hit a dead-end. I didn’t like anything and was
considering giving up and just listening to conservative talk
radio. Then the CDs began pouring in.
The second of this series opened with the Apples song “Go”.
And . . . I was hooked. It’s one of the few discs that I can
listen to over and over and over and over. Just great songs with
great hooks.
One of my enduring memories of my wife will include the song
“Stream Running Over.” It contains a little clapping bit that
she can’t resist. As soon as it comes on, she transforms from
mild-mannered middle-class mom to psychotic, synchronized dancing
backup singer. It’s an amusing transformation.
In fact, we should have walked down the aisle to this song. Or,
should I say grooooved.
Another highlight for me was “The Bird You Can’t See”.
It’s a funky little tune that I used to play while I wrote
descriptions for media on a website. Horridly repetitive work.
But, as I was the only writer left on the sinking ship, it was my
job to keep up the appearances of a full staff. The website, which
used to take hundreds of people to run, became my personal
etch-a-sketch. This song was featured prominently, as were other
songs by Apples in Stereo. As I recall, I referred to this song as
a Brian Wilson song with a Funkadelic back beat.
Steven
Spielberg Presents Animaniacs: 16 Original Songs From The Hit TV
Series
Hey! Don’t mock me. I can hear your derisive laughter from here.
Of COURSE I own the soundtrack to the Animaniacs! Who the hell
wouldn’t?
This show had some of the most brilliant writers on the Earth
and they deserver your praise. For example, can you beat a song
that contains all the countries of the world? How about all the
state capitals? Or a song that likens our place in the universe to
“the size of Mickey Rooney”?
Before you mock, you should take a listen. This is some funny,
funny stuff. And should be listened to. Although, it helps if you
have a kid around. That makes it easier to explain. I, of course,
didn’t have a kid around at the time. I just liked it.
Sing along with me (to the tune of the Mexican Hat Dance):
United States, Canada, Mexico, Panama, Haiti, Jamaica, Peru;
Republic
Dominican, Cuba, Carribean, Greenland, El Salvador too
Puerto Rico, Columbia, Venezuela, Honduras, Guyana, and still;
Guatemala, Bolivia, then Argentina, and Ecuador, Chile, Brazil
Costa Rica, Belize, Nicaragua, Bermuda, Bahamas, Tobago, San
Juan;
Paraguay, Uraguay, Suriname*, and French Guiana, Barbados, and
Guam
Norway, and Sweden, and Iceland, and Finland, and Germany now
one piece
Switzerland, Austria, Czechoslovakia, Italy, Turkey, and Greece
Poland, Romania, Scotland, Albania, Ireland, Russia, Oman;
Bulgaria, Saudi Arabia, Hungary, Cyprus, Iraq, and Iran
There's Syria, Lebanon, Israel, Jordan, both Yemens, Kuwait,
and Bahrain, the Netherlands, Luxembourg, Belgium, and Portugal,
France, England, Denmark, and Spain
India, Pakistan, Burma, Afghanistan, Thailand, Nepal, and
Bhutan; Kampuchea, Malasia, then Bangladesh, Asia, and China,
Korea, Japan
Mongolia, Laos, and Tibet, Indonesia, the Philippine Islands,
Taiwan; Sri Lanka, New Guinea, Sumatra, New Zealand, then Borneo,
and Vietnam
Tunisia, Morocco, Uganda, Angola, Zimbabwe, Djibouti, Botswana;
Mozambique, Zambia, Swaziland, Gambia, Guinea, Algeria, Ghana
Burundi, Lesotho, and Malawi, Togo, The Spanish Sahara is gone;
Niger,
Nigeria, Chad, and Liberia, Egypt, Benin, and Gabon
Tanzania, Somalia, Kenya, and Mali, Sierra Leone, and Algier;
Dahomey,
Namibia, Senegal, Libya, Cameroon, Congo, Zaire
Ethiopia, Guinea-Bissau, Madagascar, Rwanda, Mahore, and
Cayman; Hong Kong, Abu Dhabi, Qatar, Yugoslavia, Crete,
Mauritania, then Transylviania, Monaco, Liechtenstein, Malta, and
Palestine, Fiji, Australia, Sudan!
See if you can spot the countries that no longer exist!
Arc
Angels: Arc Angels
In 1992 I was still stinging from the loss of Stevie Ray Vaughan.
I was in college, trying to find myself. I didn’t succeed, but I
did manage to find some debt. Stevie Ray was one of the remaining
heroes from my Guitar God days. His music, his guitar playing
still rang true with me and the fact that he died in a helicopter
crash was devastating, even a year or two later. (The day the news
of his death came out, I received phone calls from a variety of
friends expressing their condolences. That was weird.)
Arc Angels were a reincarnation, of sorts, for Stevie Ray’s
former rhythm section Double Trouble. They teamed up with Doyle
Bramhall II and Charlie Sexton and formed a pretty mediocre rock
unit.
However, I remember listening to the song “See What Tomorrow
Brings” and when they got to the point where they sang, “The
day they put away Stevie Ray” I swear I got tears in my eyes.
Not because the song contained any real emotion for me. But after
they sing that, a guitar solo that sound hauntingly like Stevie
Ray plays. It’s distant, almost as if coming to you on a wind,
from just over the hill. That if you walked to the crest of that
hill, Stevie Ray would be beating the hell out of his ragged
guitar, notes screaming with the ecstasy of musical death.
But, it would have been a Robert Johnson moment. Stevie was
gone. I would never be a guitar god myself and one of my heroes
was gone. And this CD just seemed to solidify that fact. It was
almost too sad to consider.
Auteurs:
Now I'm a Cowboy
To be honest, there’s no remarkable story for this CD. My wife
gave it to me for my 27th (I think) birthday based on songs from
one of Jeff’s CD. It’s an enjoyable disc. But, outside of the
song “Underground Movies”, which is on the CD that Jeff made
us, nothing has ever struck me as special about it. Oh, I enjoy
it, but I wouldn’t deem it important enough to be considered a
part of the “Soundtrack of My Life.” That being said, the song
from Jeff’s CD does hold some significance for me. But I’ll
discuss that when I get to Jeff’s CD.
