floatingcity's Full Review: Little Earthquakes by Tori Amos
After the deserved flop of her pop album “Y Kant Tori Read”, Tori Amos retreated into her shell and reacquainted herself with her piano, resulting in “Little Earthquakes” and a massive shift in style and content. Gone is the hairspray teased, bustier-wearing rock chick, and in her place a far more organic and earthy singer-songwriter. Captivating and uncompromising, Tori unflinchingly explores her psyche, past, religion and sexuality in a stunning series of songs that pack a massive emotional punch. Aside from being a rebirth for Tori herself, this album also represents a second-coming of sorts for the piano. Tori is a truly, truly gifted pianist, and extracts every kind of style possible from the instrument, from jaunty music hall and free-floating jazz prog-rock to normal pop/rock, driving clipped hooks, terrifying staccatos, and achingly luscious romantic soundscapes.
As you can imagine, the majority of the album is based upon vocals and piano; these components are usually accompanied by a solid drumbeat, varying amounts of orchestration to add melody or atmosphere, and on occasion a bit of punchy electric guitar. However, the arrangements and styles are diverse enough to prevent things from getting monotonous, instead allowing the album to play as a strongly cohesive work. Most of your attention should go to the singing and lyrics; Tori is in possession of a fine, near-soprano voice, and uses it to great effect. She’s never histrionic or overdone though, and instead uses her expressive range to expertly relay her emotions to the audience. And really, that’s what this album is all about. The best songs here are so incredibly potent and powerful, they turn the listener into the characters in her songs, so you actively experience her narratives first-hand. It’s incredibly impressive and works very well, although in some cases it’s almost too painful. Likewise, I could write a thesis on these lyrics; there’s plenty of complexity, imagery and metaphor, yet unlike some of her later work, the meanings are nearly always clear.
Another huge plus is that most of these songs are in possession of strong vocal melodies and hooks, and while they’re obviously not bubblegum-pop styled, there are plenty of memorable lines that will stick in your head long after the record is over. Nothing instantaneous, but this CD is made for intense personal listening, and that’s how it works.
“Crucify” and “Girl” get things off to a stupendous start, mixing thoughtful lyrics about daily tribulations and the battles facing women, whether it be carrying “enough guilt to start my own religion” or falling into the deadly trap of mindless conformity boy-toy-ism (“She’s been everybody else’s girl, maybe one day she’ll be her own”) with great piano playing and memorable, emotional hooks (“My heart is sick of being in, chai-yay-yay-yains!” ). Both suffer a little from a bit of heavy drum reverb, but it’s a negligible issue once those lyrics and piano lines bury themselves inside your head. Third track “Silent All These Years” is viewed by many as Tori’s signature song, as she displays her piano skills on tale of finding herself. It’s pretty, immaculately played and sung, the aural equivalent of thoughtfully watching a sunset with a glass of white wine in hand. Another ballad highlight is “Winter”, an emotional workout with plenty of luscious orchestration that transports you back to childhood with its verse imagery and beautiful chorus lyrics: “When you gonna make up your mind? When you gonna love you as much as I do?” Elsewhere, the sweeping, romantic “China” is my personal favourite, combining a close, tender atmosphere with heartbreaking and elegant lyrics about alienation in a relationship.
Nicely, Tori doesn’t rest on any ballad laurels, and ups the tempo on bouncy, lighter numbers such as the music-hall, jaunty “Happy Phantom” and jazzy “Leather”, which sound a little more uplifting despite their somewhat morose lyrical content (it’s quite telling that the happiest song involves Tori imagining she’s dead!) “Precious Things” is another stunning highlight, an intriguing breathy effect giving way to a frightened, high-pitched piano line that rains down supported by a rich full band background. Tori’s lyrics are at her most ascorbic on lines like “So you can make me c*m, it doesn’t make you Jesus” as she fantasises about “smash[ing] the faces of those beautiful boys, those Christian boys”. It’s amazing stuff – emotionally cathartic and personal, yet framed within a memorable and accessible song structure. “Tear In Your Hand” is another enjoyable full-group recording, while the title track closes things out as a seven-minute epic filled with strange pounding percussion and an almost mantra-like chant of “Give me life, give me pain, give me myself again”.
The only songs that misfire on this album for me are “Mother” and “Me and a Gun”. The former is a seven-minute piano and vocal piece, which begins strongly but ultimately suffers from a lack of structure, dragging on and on with no development; while the latter is almost too much to bear. It’s a chilling a-cappella rape soliloquy that is unflinching in its relentlessness, and with no music to hide behind, the brutal message is forced unbearably into your face. It’s a truly bold move and one I do respect, although I will probably never listen to it again – I like my emotional torture with a little bit of musical Prozac to ease it down, thank you muchly.
However, overall we have twelve tracks, all respectable, ten good and worth many, many repeat plays. That makes for a stunning arrival – if you’re going to buy any female singer-songwriter album, make it this one.
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