After a failed attempt at late-80s, poodle-hair glam rock, Tori Amos' solo career took flight in 1991 with the release of the great Little Earthquakes. So intensely personal and beautifully written, the album sucked me in for an entire summer. The album established Amos as an incredible songwriter, a skilled pianist and a truly honest human being whose lyrics offered a remarkable potency.

1994 saw the release of Under the Pink, which was musically and experimentally superior to Earthquakes, but whose lyrics (most readily apparent on songs like "Cornflake Girl") were becoming a bit cryptic. The album followed Earthquakes' theme-- 12 songs, ending with an epic-- but otherwise, the record was incredibly subdued, exchanging fire engine reds for powder blues.

The lengthy Boys for Pele followed in January of 1996. Amos was becoming extremely experimental, and her music now overshadowed the lyrics, formerly her obvious forte. Musically, Pele took a bat to everything Amos had previously released; it was her most melodically beautiful creation ever. But in most cases, whatever points Tori was trying to drive home were lost in her nonsensical, stream-of-consciousness poetry.

So what of From the Choirgirl Hotel? As always, Amos has managed to turn out a couple of truly great songs. The beautiful "Black-Dove (January)" is a stunningly gorgeous piece whose creepy, delicate imagery is perhaps some of Amos' best work since Under the Pink's "Bells for Her." The first single, "Spark," about Amos' recent miscarriage, is powered by her realization of denial. ("You say you don't want it/ Again and again/ But you don't really mean it.") But perhaps the finest moment on Choirgirl is "Jackie's Strength," a song that remembers the sadness every woman felt for Jackie Onassis the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated. The haunting piano and string section, accompanied by Amos' fragile vocals and moving lyrics ("Shots rang out/ The police came/ Mama laid me on the front lawn/ And prayed for Jackie's strength") match each other effortlessly, making this one of the most powerful songs in Amos' repertoire.

The rest of the album, as it turns out, doesn't stack up against Tori's past releases. Several of the songs sound frighteningly alike, and the musical accompaniment seems to draw more inspiration from bad industrial and dance music than Leonard Cohen and Joni Mitchell. But while Choirgirl houses some of Amos' less interesting performances, it also occasionally showcases electrifying work. We'll hope it marks a transition to something bigger and better, but let's not get attached to the idea.

-Ryan Schreiber, May, 1998