|
Time Out newspaper insert [From the entertainment section of a local newspaper in Thousand Oaks,
California.] by Bruce Britt Tori Amos stormed onto the music scene in 1992 and practically dared music lovers
not to notice her. Her revealing album Little Earthquakes was chock-full
of exquisite neoclassical melodies and images of rape, religion and sex. Her live show was equally audacious, with the singer writhing at her piano
like someone in the throes of sexual ecstasy. Amos raised the stakes on her
just-released Atlantic Records album, “Under the Pink,” which touches on themes
such as patriarchal religion, betrayal and sexuality. “There’s a claiming of empowerment on this
record,” Amos said. “There are moments of ‘Oh
God, not again’-sort of desperation, but it’s always honest. I’m not mincing
words.” Amos pushes the envelope on “God,” the first single to be culled from the
album. Combining jazzy piano with hip-hop rhythms, she takes a defiant stab at
patriarchal religion: “God sometimes you just don’t come through/do you need a
woman to look after you?” “The God that we’ve been taught on this planet
is very male,” Amos said. “Whether it’s
Christianity or Judaism or Islam, it’s all the patriarch to me. I’m tired of ‘almighty
father.’ This almighty father is not necessarily my concept of God.” And what does Amos’ father - a Methodist preacher - think of this? “Some things don’t get talked about too much,”
Amos said with a laugh. Though Amos’ lyrics certainly raise eyebrows, Under
the Pink also marks a musical progression. Where Little Earthquakes was
all gorgeous piano doodling, the new album possesses a stronger rhythmic
thrust. Songs like “Space Dog” feature jaunty beats somewhere between hip-hop
and reggae. “I developed the tunes and built (rhythms) to go
around them,” Amos explained. “Just the
whole idea of having an acoustic piano with an industrial-type rhythm was very
exciting to me. It was like bringing two different cultures together.” Born in North Carolina, Amos was plunking out tunes on the piano by age 3
and composing by 4. But her devoutly religious parents were disappointed when
their young daughter became enamored of pop radio. “All the church hymns were coming through one
ear, and the Beatles were coming through the other,” Amos said. “I thought that if these are my two choices in life,
then I definitely want what’s behind door No. 2.” Amos trained at the prestigious Peabody Conservatory in Baltimore before
being dismissed for what she calls “irreconcilable differences.”
Having tired of formal training, she began playing bars and hotels in the
Washington, D.C.-Baltimore area. During the ‘80’s, she recorded demo tapes centered
around her lilting voice and pensive keyboard playing, which she promptly
mailed out to the major record labels. “The letters came back saying this
girl-and-her-piano thing isn’t going to happen, and after seven years of
rejection I began to believe them,” Amos said.
“They said ‘do dance music, do metal, do whatever.’ So I tried whatever.”
Whatever turned out to be a 1988 dance-rock album titled Y Tori Kant Read,
which was recorded after Amos relocated to Los Angeles. The album was greeted indifferently
by critics and consumers, and its commercial failure left Amos devastated. “I was prepared to do anything to show my dad
that I didn’t have to become a concert pianist to make a living,” Amos
recalled. “Then he reads a review in Billboard magazine
where they called me a bimbo.” Relocating to London, Amos began
composing the confessional songs that would make up the Little Earthquakes
album. The resulting album possessed the introspection of John Lennon’s Plastic
Ono Band and Sinead O’Connor’s I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got. Initial critical response to Amos’ new album has been ambivalent - most love
the music, but are baffled by the impressionistic lyricism. But being
misunderstood is a price Amos seems willing to pay for the rewards of
self-discovery. |