Tori Amos
From the Choirgirl Hotel
[Atlantic; 1998]
Rating: 6.7
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