Post by Pelesfury - a way of life on Apr 21, 2005 7:51:06 GMT -5
nd now, I must now delve into the uncomfortable subject of Tori Amos.
She's been haunting me for years and it's time the story was told.
My earliest memories of Tori Amos were of not really liking her, in that teenage-f**k-everything way, before I'd really heard much of her music. A friend of my sister, Rich Collins, was way into her and gave me a copy of her "crucify" EP. I didn't really dig it, and I didn't bother to dig any deeper. As I grew older and starting getting the comparisons, I just shrugged my shoudlers and said, "Not really familiar with it, not really into it." When I was working at Toscanini's, I think I was around 20, Mike Penta insisted that I dig. "You'll love her. I'll make you a mix." And so he did, and I listened. And I still didn't like it. This time, I more than didn't like it, I REALLY didn't like it. There was something about the vocal that irked me. But some of her lyrics and melodies were brilliant. Some I couldn't stand. This was really bugging me. There was one song on the disc "Winter", that I absolutely loved, but I wanted to go into the song with my bare hands and strangle some of the precious-sounding lyrics. I realized back then that the reason this was such a frustrating expereince is that the similarites - between my songs and hers - were enough that the differences were painful. The way human beings are terrified of likenesses of human beings that are "slightly off". Hearing the piano was like listening to someone speak in my voice, it felt like a violation. I would hear this word choice, this chord choice, this line or phrase and my blodd would just boil....wrong! wrong! wrong! No mittens and snowflakes! Evil! No butterflies, no goddesses, this is wrong wrong wrong! But the songs that were good rooted and stuck. They were few, but I was f**ked. I had to admit that I liked them. After that I sort of forgot about her.
Then, recently, I got to the point where I could really afford to get CDs that I might not like. So I bought a bunch of her stuff. I considered this part of my job, research. I would even defend myself at the local record store, embarassed as if I were a guy buying tampons. "Heh heh. These are for my Wife." "Heh heh. This is research for my band. Really." I knew she was coming to town, I got tickets. I decided to delve headfirst and figure this out, and put it to bed if possible. Brian and I had gotten a DVD of hers and watched it several months ago and shut it off halfway through, bored. I had heard that she was a real fireball of a performer, and I was really disappointed by the blandness of it. I also cound't tell if I wanted to like it or wanted to hate it. I couldn't tell if I was jealous or looking for a role model. Some strange combo of all of these things, I think.
We left for tour and I brought a few of her CDs, including her new one, "The Beekeeper", and her new book. It was my project. Brian laughed at my face while he watched me reading. I would grimace, breathe through my teeth and put the book down while making a deep agoinized sound.
"What?"
"AARARRRGGHGGHGg. She's talking about the goddesses and butterflies again and refferring to a song as 'she'. Am I evil for hating this so much?"
But I was f**ked again. Buried in all of the Corn-Mother, Butterfly-worshipping New Age LaLa there was a woman living my lifestyle. Getting in a bus with a bunch of people, writing songs, performing them, learning to cope with the crap-ridden, backstabbing music industry. Learning to cope with not a very nice persons like me hating her butterfly-worshipping side. I couldn't put the book down. So much of she was writing about, between the lines, was directly applicable to my life. I loved it and I couldn't stand it, just like the music. I listened to her first two records and found songs that I thought were genuinely brilliant. Meanwhile, I listened to the new CD. And I kept wondering...do you want to hate this? Do you want to like it? The answer kept being both (but with the new CD I had no choice, I couldn't like it even if I'd wanted to. Couldn't stand it.)
So we went to see her here in Boston the night before last, my band and I, and there I sat. And as I watched her I thought: This performer does not need to care about whether I like her music or not. She has a huge following, people who love her music and stick with her, she's forty, a mother and she's touring. Terrible album or not, Amanda, you've got to repsect this woman. Coming home, I finished the last few pages of her book and thought about what had struck me, stuck with me. One thing that she expressly said a few times was how sad she thought it was that female musicians and singers felt the need to compete so fiercly with each other, as if there were only room for so many - and it was kill or be killed. I wonder if that's true among those women at the top. I've never felt it. But maybe I have, without realizing it. Maybe my younger distaste for the Toris and the Anis of the world was borne of jealousy more than taste. As I've gotten older, I find that it all doesn't matter so much. I can allow myself to love this or that song, this or that album, and leave it at that. Soemtimes it's easier to love Avril than Tori. Sometimes I wonder what Liz Phair was thinking. Then I think about Bjork and all conflict disappears and I think that the rest of us should just give up and flip burgers.
So as Oprah would say, You Go Tori. I will always continue to buy your records, hoping to find a song I love. And your book made me think, and learn, and consider, and for that, I thank you. There are few of us, and indeed, we best stick together.
posted by Dresden Dolls Diary at 9:55 PM
She's been haunting me for years and it's time the story was told.
My earliest memories of Tori Amos were of not really liking her, in that teenage-f**k-everything way, before I'd really heard much of her music. A friend of my sister, Rich Collins, was way into her and gave me a copy of her "crucify" EP. I didn't really dig it, and I didn't bother to dig any deeper. As I grew older and starting getting the comparisons, I just shrugged my shoudlers and said, "Not really familiar with it, not really into it." When I was working at Toscanini's, I think I was around 20, Mike Penta insisted that I dig. "You'll love her. I'll make you a mix." And so he did, and I listened. And I still didn't like it. This time, I more than didn't like it, I REALLY didn't like it. There was something about the vocal that irked me. But some of her lyrics and melodies were brilliant. Some I couldn't stand. This was really bugging me. There was one song on the disc "Winter", that I absolutely loved, but I wanted to go into the song with my bare hands and strangle some of the precious-sounding lyrics. I realized back then that the reason this was such a frustrating expereince is that the similarites - between my songs and hers - were enough that the differences were painful. The way human beings are terrified of likenesses of human beings that are "slightly off". Hearing the piano was like listening to someone speak in my voice, it felt like a violation. I would hear this word choice, this chord choice, this line or phrase and my blodd would just boil....wrong! wrong! wrong! No mittens and snowflakes! Evil! No butterflies, no goddesses, this is wrong wrong wrong! But the songs that were good rooted and stuck. They were few, but I was f**ked. I had to admit that I liked them. After that I sort of forgot about her.
Then, recently, I got to the point where I could really afford to get CDs that I might not like. So I bought a bunch of her stuff. I considered this part of my job, research. I would even defend myself at the local record store, embarassed as if I were a guy buying tampons. "Heh heh. These are for my Wife." "Heh heh. This is research for my band. Really." I knew she was coming to town, I got tickets. I decided to delve headfirst and figure this out, and put it to bed if possible. Brian and I had gotten a DVD of hers and watched it several months ago and shut it off halfway through, bored. I had heard that she was a real fireball of a performer, and I was really disappointed by the blandness of it. I also cound't tell if I wanted to like it or wanted to hate it. I couldn't tell if I was jealous or looking for a role model. Some strange combo of all of these things, I think.
We left for tour and I brought a few of her CDs, including her new one, "The Beekeeper", and her new book. It was my project. Brian laughed at my face while he watched me reading. I would grimace, breathe through my teeth and put the book down while making a deep agoinized sound.
"What?"
"AARARRRGGHGGHGg. She's talking about the goddesses and butterflies again and refferring to a song as 'she'. Am I evil for hating this so much?"
But I was f**ked again. Buried in all of the Corn-Mother, Butterfly-worshipping New Age LaLa there was a woman living my lifestyle. Getting in a bus with a bunch of people, writing songs, performing them, learning to cope with the crap-ridden, backstabbing music industry. Learning to cope with not a very nice persons like me hating her butterfly-worshipping side. I couldn't put the book down. So much of she was writing about, between the lines, was directly applicable to my life. I loved it and I couldn't stand it, just like the music. I listened to her first two records and found songs that I thought were genuinely brilliant. Meanwhile, I listened to the new CD. And I kept wondering...do you want to hate this? Do you want to like it? The answer kept being both (but with the new CD I had no choice, I couldn't like it even if I'd wanted to. Couldn't stand it.)
So we went to see her here in Boston the night before last, my band and I, and there I sat. And as I watched her I thought: This performer does not need to care about whether I like her music or not. She has a huge following, people who love her music and stick with her, she's forty, a mother and she's touring. Terrible album or not, Amanda, you've got to repsect this woman. Coming home, I finished the last few pages of her book and thought about what had struck me, stuck with me. One thing that she expressly said a few times was how sad she thought it was that female musicians and singers felt the need to compete so fiercly with each other, as if there were only room for so many - and it was kill or be killed. I wonder if that's true among those women at the top. I've never felt it. But maybe I have, without realizing it. Maybe my younger distaste for the Toris and the Anis of the world was borne of jealousy more than taste. As I've gotten older, I find that it all doesn't matter so much. I can allow myself to love this or that song, this or that album, and leave it at that. Soemtimes it's easier to love Avril than Tori. Sometimes I wonder what Liz Phair was thinking. Then I think about Bjork and all conflict disappears and I think that the rest of us should just give up and flip burgers.
So as Oprah would say, You Go Tori. I will always continue to buy your records, hoping to find a song I love. And your book made me think, and learn, and consider, and for that, I thank you. There are few of us, and indeed, we best stick together.
posted by Dresden Dolls Diary at 9:55 PM
