I am never far away from Tori Amos. She is a part of me as much as my left arm. This isn't something I need to prove or defend, and don't spend much time talking about her with anyone who doesn't love her as much as I do. When love and devotion is this unequivocal, there is no need for discussion.
If you don't like her, that's fine with me. I don't care. I understand that she is not for everyone and generally don't want to waste my time or energy giving reasons why you should listen to her. Mostly because I can't really articulate what they are, anyway. The truth is, I don't even know myself half the time.
Oh sure, I used to try and convert the heathens, and then be frustrated and upset when someone couldn't appreciate her true genius. Make no mistake. This woman is a virtuoso and a prodigy. She plays two pianos at once with as much ease as most of us brush our teeth. But she is also esoteric and experimental. I guess I've always likened my appreciation of Tori Amos to Opera. It takes a certain kind of palate to appreciate.
Consequently, I'm also protective of her. If you aren't already a fan, then I'm not here to convert you. That's not my job. Recently, a friend of mine who is making efforts to branch out musically slid out my copy of American Doll Posse and asked if she could borrow it. My heart skipped a beat, I sucked in my breath, I stammered. And I almost grabbed it out of her hand like it was a hallowed jewel. Because what if she doesn't like it? I just can't even bear the thought.
Nope, it's true. I don't understand what Tori Amos is talking about most of the time. But I also don't really need to. Because I still understand it on some level. Sometimes I *hear* the words, but they don't make sense. And sometimes she's just eating the microphone. But I understand the tone, the mood, the feeling. She'll randomly throw in hilarious abstruse lines like Purple Monkey Dishwasher, Ratatouille Strychnine. And oh, there are harpsichords, screeching, guttural groans and moans and undeniable orgasms right there in the middle of her songs. God Bless Her. Some songs I can't even listen to because I feel like I am somehow violating her privacy, like oh excuse me, I just walked in on her having sex with her husband.
Not even Tori Amos has been spared my musical wrath. Some of her songs I have hated; only to grow into them and catch up to her later. I also admire and adore her ideas and her personas and her alter egos; her pain, her joy, the crescendos, the crazy and hilarious, the meaningful and heart-breaking, the bizarre. Some albums I haven't listened to in years. Some songs I skip over. Some albums I have railed against and struggled with for months.
But I always come around. She always gets me.
So this week, Day 3 of my Musical Odyssey, I am listening to something new. Something which I have surprisingly turned my back on.
In general, I am not a fan of the box set. It's big, it's long, it's expensive. No thanks. And fan or not, I've always kind of seen it as a marketing ploy to make money. Alternate mixes, remixes, unreleased tracks? Meh. Marketing. Ploy. I don't like Greatest Hits albums. A couple of years ago, Tori came out with a collection called A Piano. Eighty-six songs spanning 1992-2006. My thinking has always kind of been ‘I already own all the albums. Who needs B-sides?' Well, the thing with Tori is that she never sings a song exactly the same way twice. So it's so more than remixes and B-sides. It' not a collection of rejects and rubbish.
It still hasn't propmted me to run out and lay down cold hard cash, but fortunately, I have a fabulous friend who chose all the best stuff for me and then burned me a copy for free.
Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you: The Piano Redux. Compliments of my own music guru, The Fire Eater.
flying dutchman
honey
take me with you
walk to Dublin (sucker reprise)
sugar (live from soundcheck)
not david bowie
zero point
ode to my clothes
intro jam to marys of the sea
dolphin song
cooling
peeping tommi
fire-eater’s wife/beauty queen (demo)
playboy mommy (demo)
a sorta fairytale (demo)
here, in my head
merman
And really, all I have to say is: Why don't I own this box set? For as big a fan as I am, this isn't just a mish-mash of remakes. It's more of the good stuff. And what's not to like about that?
* AKA: B-Sides: Who Needs ‘Em?
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