In her sixteen years as a professional recording artist, Tori Amos has had six albums chart in the top ten of the Billboard Top 200 Album charts, one gold albums, two platinum albums, and two multi-platinum albums. She's also never had a Top 40 single hit the chart. What does this mean? That she's an album artist, thank you, that her material is bought by the folks who don't listen to Top 40 radio. Or, it could mean that she's not very pop-smart. Or that she doesn't care to cater to the whims of Top 40 radio. Or all of the above.
It's a rare (though not unique) feat, though, as Tori Amos has never been really an underground artist. From her first album onwards, she's been relatively high-profile, much of the publicity she sought herself (and I don't mean that observation to be a pejorative statement, either). In fact, on her last studio album, she recorded the songs under the narrative guises of five different facets of her personality/of popular conception of women/of mythological Greek goddesses/heroines. I delve into any further detail, for I am a chickensnit, and I fear I may irk and offend some if I offer my true thoughts on Ms. Amos's concepts, one of which--the one I do find intriguing--is the concept Ms. Amos has of herself.
She calls this character/persona Tori, and she writes "Big Wheel" from Tori's perspective (no, really). Here, she addresses and lambasts her critics, her audience, and herself, sometimes all at the same time: it's a sliding narrative point-of-view technique, and that technique is tricky to pull off successfully (pioneered by William Faulkner, and Tom Waits and Bob Dylan and Elvis Costello do it well, but they've had years thirty-plus years experience), as much depends upon expecting the audience to at least subconciously understand the general message.
Often with Amos, this p.o.v. technique doesn't work well, as her lyrics are often obscurant to the point of inscrutability--'cause no current recording artist writes abstract as well as Amos can. Her lyrics often strain for clarity--in fact, they'd work better as poetry*, 'cause Amos isn't known for her way with a hook or a strong melody, and--her first album withstanding--she's never had the raw, stark sound or pop production--nor the aforementioned sense of strong, pop-melodic writing--to make most of her lyrics resonate so that the hidden meaning is brought to the emotional fore.
Sure, Amos sings as if she feels something--she's never been less than dramatic, and that's both a strength and a weakness of hers--but exactly what the feeling means...I've rarely understood it. Amos doesn't marry lyrics to music very well, but I think this is more of a musical failing, which is ironic, 'cause what Amos's talent lies at the piano. She was an early prodigy, was granted a scholarship to a prestigious school for her piano playing, and played the piano bar circuit for years. You'd think she'd be able to roll off memorable melody after memorable melody, much like an American Elton John or a gender-reversed Billy Joel. She's got the chops, but...well, maybe it's that she takes herself too seriously. Or has in the past.
On "Big Wheel," though, she showcases a wicked sense of humor, calling herself a "M.I.L.F./Don't you forget," telling herself "Get off the cross/We need the wood," calling out "Gimme eight/Gimme seven" to the band. This self-satire works in her vocal delivery as well, as she--at times--sings with a sense of freedom, pouring some pouty-mouth pronunciations into some lines, speak-singing others. Perhaps looking at herself from a distance like this, from a satirical perspective, gave her a renewed sense of, I don't know, fun. Maybe. One thing, though: the beat certainly helps. It is--by far--the best pop sound she's ever managed on record. The handclaps; the slide, electric, distorted guitar; the dancing bass, playing and popping on the down beats; her barrelhouse style of piano playing: all seemingly geared toward radioplay.
The record, alas, never got any. Not surprising, considering Amos's track record, but I believe if given a chance--and I can't say this about every record on this countdown--this one could have been top ten. Number one, even--if Kanye had remixed it. Wonder what Amos would think of that? Fifteen years ago, I think I know what the answer would have been, but now...who knows?
NOTE* - Seems the folks at Image Comics thought highly of Amos's lyrics, as they produced a gigantic (sucker weighs fifty pounds easy) tome called in which eighty different artists take the words to Amos's songs and create a graphic story from them. It just came out this year, and the book is called Comic Book Tattoo. In many instances, Amos's lyrics work better graphically in this book than they did as songs. That's not necessarily slamming the songs; the book's just that good (and the artwork is--in most cases--stunning). It'd be a great Christmas present, especially for those who like pretty coffee table books. Don't get one for me, though, as I've already bought one, and it sits right next to the door to my office, and when I'm not reading it, I use it as a home-defense weapon. If anybody tries to break into my house, then they're getting a big helping heap of Tori upside the head. Guaranteed concussion.
Tori Amos Big Wheel
by skinandbones
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