Review Summary: Years go by and Tori's still a legend.
One thing I always notice about artists whenever they release a debut is that they get instantly compared to other, similar artists. Example are all over the place - Muse were seen to be heavily inspired by Radiohead and Lady Gaga was seen as a rather shameless Madonna rip-off. Following the trend, it can be argued that Tori Amos should have been weird mishmash of Cyndi Lauper and Kate Bush.
Except she’s not. Born Myra Ellen Amos in 1963, she was discovered to be a pianistic prodigy at the age of five, where she was sent off to the Peabody Conservatory of Music, only to be kicked out six years later for her interest in rock music. This hadn’t dissuaded Amos, however. She continued to play in public and write her own songs, winning a local talent show for doing so. During this time, she adopted the name “Tori”, having previously been performing as “Ellen”. She then fronted 80’s synthpop band “Y Kant Tori Read”, though their debut album was seen as a commercial failure, resulting in the group disbanding. She was obliged by her record contract, however, to release a new album by 1990. And so it was after much smoke and noise that “Little Earthquakes”, Amos’ first debut album, would be released.
The album begins with “Crucify”, a quirky song with everything you’d expect from Tori Amos. “Crucify” instantly hits you as a single – it’s catchy, memorable, and really quite special. Under the rather uplifting melody, however, the lyrics are really quite dark (“I crucify myself/everyday”), and I, for one, have often wondered whether they are speaking against religion. Amos follows this up with “Girl”. Speaking in the second person about a girl prioritising others over herself, Amos experiments with instrumentation, creating a rather atmospheric song. There’s obvious synth influences here from her time in “Y Kant Tori Read”, giving the listener a sense of Amos’ past.
“Little Earthquakes”, lyrically, is a very dark album at times. The album’s first single, “Me and a Gun”, was actually the last one penned for the album. The focus is entirely on the lyrics – it speaks of Amos’ experience of being raped after one of her concerts. It was a strange choice for a single – it’s completely a cappella, with only Tori’s voice being audible. It was a highlight of the album for me, actually. It was the simplest song on the album, but the most effective. Tori wasn’t hiding behind her piano – she was singing from her past experience, something she admitted she was lucky to have survived. Amos explores sexuality further in the album, however, on “Leather”. It begins decidedly brighter than “Me and a Gun” (“Look I’m standing naked before you/don’t you want more than my sex?”) but turns darker, speaking of a woman being resigned to a man, though he only sees her as a sexual object.
Amos recounts more of her past experiences as the album goes on. “Precious Things” is a more rock-based number focusing on Amos’ childhood, in particular, jealousy, (“Those demigods/with their nine-inch nails”) and her painful memories (“Let them bleed/let them wash away”). It’s an angry song, one where Amos speaks from within herself to convey her anger with regret. “Winter” speaks of her relationship with her father and, quite frankly, is fantastic. Clocking in at just under six minutes, it’s one of the longer songs on the album, but one of the best. It starts as a rather mellow piano tune, though builds up to become dramatic, emotional and nothing short of a masterpiece.
“Little Earthquakes” concludes with its’ titular track, which really epitomises what piano rock is. It speaks of hopelessness, on how something so small can have such a big effect on us as people – and, over time, it can cause us to break. And that’s really what “Little Earthquakes” is. It’s personal – most songs are purely based on the life and experiences of Tori. But it’s emotional, and it can be oh-so relatable. Tori speaks to us as if we’re right there with her, living through life, struggling to grasp on to what we hold dear.
And that’s really what makes “Little Earthquakes” a work of art. As sincere as it is great, “Little Earthquakes” is far more than appears on the cover. It recounts a lot of themes into a surprisingly small space of time, and really, it is quite magnificent. As a listener, it’s easy to get a sense of Tori’s past from the album, from her sexual awakening (“Me and a Gun”, “Leather”) to her relationships with family (“Winter”, “Mother”). It’s easy to merely compare Tori Amos to other artists, but as far as I’m concerned, she’s really in her own league with this one.
Recommended tracks:
“Precious Things”
“Winter”
“Leather”
“Me and a Gun”
