|
Rolling Stone (Australia) Caption: “We want shrubbery”: Amos and Morissette plan
their very own secret garden. By
Michael Dwyer The grass is cool, the late
afternoon sun is warm and the arena is strictly out of bounds during
soundcheck. So sue me. On the stage of Holmdel, New Jersey’s (nearly) empty PNC
Arena, a flame-haired, piano-hammering nymph is teaching her band a new tune.
The words “Jesus” and “disease” barrel out of the mayhem before the
music disintegrates like some kind of unholy plane crash. “Oh shit, I fucked up,” Tori Amos mutters. Wow. As it turns out, I’m not the only
one with goosebumps. In the bowels of the backstage labyrinth, Alanis
Morissette is relaxing in a large, dimly-lit room festooned with Indian
fabrics. The waft of incense and a tranquil trickle of water complete the
bubble of virtual serenity. “The time really hits me when I’m talking to
someone in my dressing room and I hear her (Amos) soundchecking,” she says,
with awe. “I have to think, ‘OK, I’m not playing her CD, she’s actually out
there.’ It’s really beautiful.” It’s week two of the 5 Weeks tour,
one of the most inspired and - by virtue of its sponsorship deal with online
music distributor MP3.com - controversial double-headers on the US summer
circuit. It’s easy for the Alternative Press to dismiss the outing as “two
former child actresses playing pissed-off vagina music”, but these women
combined box office muscle and bold alignment with the MP3 frontier makes to
leave you wondering who’s really wearing the trousers in this business. “I wanted to pair with someone who I
respected as an artist; I wasn’t thinking of anyone’s gender,” Morissette says
pointedly. “It was as simple as my wanting to play with Tori and wanting her to
be able to do her full show. I was absolutely willing to cur mine shorter in
order for her to have a longer set and I think that was one of the reasons she
felt comfortable doing it. It was both of us being able to do our show without
having to compromise.” Morissette recalls Amos’ solo debut,
Little Earthquakes, as a primary inspiration for Jagged Little Pill. “It was
1991 and I was just kinda figuring out who I was. I remember being very
heartened by her courage. I had written so much music since I was nine years
old, but I had never been able to summon up the courage to write in my songs
what I wrote in my journal or in my poetry. When I heard her record it was an
affirmation of sorts.” Ms Amos isn’t speaking to the press
today. But post-soundcheck, 14 women and three men wait backstage in orderly
single file for a quick Polaroid moment. She stands at the head of the line
like the Queen greeting the English cricket team, says a few soft words and
sends them on their blessed way. The fans are here thanks for a competition on
local alternative station WHTG, a format that wouldn’t touch Morissette with a
barge pole. Likewise, plenty of punters filling the arena out front will be
hearing Amos for the first time tonight. Talk about your ingenious crossover
marketing initiatives. “Yeah, we’re different,” Morissette
says simply. “Some people probably listen to both of us, some people are probably
more avid about Tori or me, but what’s great is the kind of people who come to
both of our shows are really open. I think she has an element of feeling she’s
playing for my fans and I feel like I’m playing for hers but I do think it’s
pretty evenly split, which is perfect.” Yessir, come show time, it’s neck
and neck in the rapturous response sweepstakes. Amos’ show is more challenging
musically: her older tunes are fractured by wild dynamic shifts and songs from
her new double CD, To Venus and Back, which tease and boggle the senses on
first listen. Morissette is far more the smiling, whirling and twirling stadium
entertainer, her music more accessible and her singalong potential greater.
What they have in common is surprisingly gender-balanced and deeply passionate
devotees, thousands of which will be clicking onto the MP3 links at www.toriandalanis.com as
soon as they get home. “It was an embracing of sorts,”
Morissette says f her deal with MP3, which entails exclusive live downloads
available after each show. Although she and Amos are both signed to corporate
giant Time Warner, early opponents of MP3 technology, she claims all concerned
are now comfortable with the arrangement. It’s been a question of “taking baby
steps with (Warner), rather than against them,” she says. “The current system has to change.
It’s old. It’s very much not in any sort of artistic development and I believe
gone are the days where artists take the system for granted. Now when I hear
musicians raging against the proverbial machine, I’m quick to notice ‘Well, you
were actually in the position to sign the contract or not’.” In August, Warner Atlantic made “Bliss”,
the first single from To Venus and Back, available for sale on the Internet by
digital download. It was a pioneering move, sure, but it’s kind of thrilling to
realise that their hand was forced by a wave beyond their control, a wave lent
overwhelming momentum and legitimacy by artist initiatives like 5 Weeks. I finally met Amos later, in a
dressing room much smaller than Morissette’s - so small, in fact, that the
radiant goddess energy emanating from her watery blue eyes makes me shake and
sweat like a lapsed Catholic. We talk MP3s and set list highlights. She
remembers a piano she played in Perth in 1992. I indelicately suggest that she’s
lucky Atlantic is allowing her to release a double album (one disc live, one
disc brand new) only a year after her last. She narrows her eyes and purses her
lips for a moment. “They don’t tell me what to do,”
she explains curtly. |