illusionofjoy | OTR: Tori Amos - Little Earthquakes

Little Earthquakes was released in 1992, making me eleven years old and completely oblivious to its existence at the time. My first gasp of awareness regarding the woman who now sings lines such as "I'm a MILF, don't you forget it," was in high school. One of the few "freaks" of Potsdam, New York had discovered Tori and I noticed her singing "Silent All These Years" in the computer lab. She wasn't being very loud as she accompanied the song, but at the line, "boy, you'd best pray that I bleed real soon - how's that thought for you?" her voice raised. It was as if she'd verbally dragged a highlighter across the words.

I wouldn't see the video for the song until VH1 featured it on the (sadly) short-lived programmed "Pop-Up Video," in which music videos would be played and factoids about them would - literally - pop-up on the screen. I would come closer to listening to the whole album during my freshman year of college. Before quitting every other student organisation I was in to focus my extra-curricular attention solely on WAIH, I was a member of the student newspaper, The Racquette. I did a brief turn as their entertainment editor, which wasn't a particular glamorous gig as nepotism was creeping into the place and I was dealing with more bullshit than I should have been dealing with. I was sitting in the office of the paper doing some copy-editing one day all by myself when I saw Little Earthquakes sitting on a nearby shelf next to a CD player. Out of curiosity, I popped it in and listened as I worked.

That session got me halfway through the album. My first exposures to "Leather" and "Me And A Gun" didn't come until a friend of mine performed them at Hurley's open-mic night. The first time I heard the album in it's entirety was on a trip back from Albany in a friend's car after a particularly heart-rending breakup. Let me say this: Tori Amos is the last artist anyone should listen to after breaking up with someone, unless wallowing in self-pity is one's particular forte. Oh, wait...that is me...

A personal listen came when, as WAIH's music director, I finally purchased a copy for the station and reviewed it. I really can't find any flaws with this album, but there are two tracks I invariably skip every time I listen to it. The first is "Happy Phantom" - for me, the song breaks the mood, ruining the sequencing of the album. It's too upbeat and jazzy between the beautiful moodiness of "Winter" and "China." Perhaps this song wouldn't make me cringe as much if it were placed later in the disc - before or after "Leather," perhaps, so it could be part of kicking off "side B," rather than interrupting "side A." As it is, it breaks the spell cast by the rest of the album up to that point and I resent that.

The other track which gets skipped is "Me And A Gun." Unlike "Happy Phantom," I harbour no resentment against this song, but I generally find it's subject matter far too heavy for casual listening. It is a very powerful song and Tori's performance makes it just incredibly cutting and disturbing - at least to me. Only the most callous of individuals could possibly listen to "Me And A Gun," shrug and say, "that's nice." Would that I could write songs like that, but I doubt I really want the life experience required.