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Tori Amos knows no taboos, at least in the songwriting department. So if there’s
a singer/composer willing to open up on the subject of a soul-shaking event
like miscarriage, it would be this volatile diva. The experience dominates her fourth release, From The Choirgirl Hotel, and
has coloured her life ever since it happened to her in 1996. It’s not an easy event to leave behind, in part because no one likes to talk
about it much—and talk is something Amos thrives on—and because when somebody
tries to say something, it usually comes out wrong. “What I got was, ‘It was God’s will.’ You get
all the wrong answers,” she says, as her tour gets set to touch down at
the Molson Amphitheatre Saturday (July 25th). “What’s so tricky is that the experience is so
intangible except to your partner. You’re pregnant for three months and you form
a connection. Then it goes away like a ghost. “But the love doesn’t go away. You still feel
that connection. You can never go back to being the woman you were before that
life was inside you. The hard thing is that I’m not a mother now, either. It’s so
hard being in that limbo. “I am changed—people say I’m a better listener
now.” Not that her music has veered in new directions. The scratched-up guitars
signal some sonic developments, and Amos does a little electronic doctoring on
the vocals to raise the intensity levels, but the piano tangents, lyrical
repetitions and graphic wordplay continue to feed Amos’ form. As on her other albums, the songs are thematically linked, this time to the
personal tragedy of losing her pregnancy. “The fragility of it is amazing. It’s such a
mystery—where these souls come from and where they go. Of course, I’m still
pro-choice—you have to believe in the independence of women. But sometimes I
wonder whether women are aware of their huge responsibilities.” Especially given her rep for flakiness, Amos is supremely lucid as she
speaks from Milwaukee, where her tour is temporarily parked. Her words don’t
cascade off the tongue the way her song lyrics do—with that breathless
eagerness to get it all out—and doesn’t wander off on verbal detours the way
her piano solos spin out their musical digressions. The girl’s got focus. Just ask her bout the misconceptions people have about her attitude toward
the Lilith Fair—Rolling Stone tagged her as someone who doesn’t see the point of
an all-woman fest—and she’ll tell you exactly what she thinks. “Journalists are looking for a cat-fight because
they’re bored this summer, but really there is only goodwill inside. Just
because I’m not doing the Lilith tour doesn’t mean I don’t respect it. I’m
friends with Sarah McLachlan. I sent her a case of wine on her wedding day.
What I don’t understand is why nobody understands that I want my own tour. Why
is it a problem for women to do their own tours and go on different journeys?” She says that if people really want to support women’s music they should be
celebrating those women who have the clout to head out on tours of their own. “Not many women are able to accomplish that.
Bonnie (Raitt) is going out on her own this
year, and Janet Jackson is too, but it’s really rare for a woman to be able to
do something like this. “I don’t want to have to compromise, and the
truth is you have to shift your show to participate in something like Lilith.” Then again, this is an artist you want playing in your living room. How does
a performer with no fear of intimacy fare in a 16,000 seat outdoor arena? “It’s challenging for sure. With a band you need
the bigger places. The band in this case is not gratuitous—it’s not just a
backup band. But you gotta find a place where the kick drum goes into your
stomach and doesn’t make you feel like you’re being attacked but makes you melt
like butter.” Writing comes easily to Amos, and she’s matured to the point that she knows
how to deal with the undigested material as it wells up. “Just because you’re known doesn’t mean that
everything you write is going to stop traffic. You have to know when you’re
getting it right and know when you’re getting it wrong.” But writing about miscarriage has left Amos emotionally exhausted and she
says it will take some time before she has an experience which moves her the
way that tragedy did. But she’s not worried. “I’m not writing yet. But there’s fertile time for a song to come. It’s like
a scent—it’s elk season and it’s mating time.” |
