She finally does what she wants instead of what is expected of her.
Photo: Scott Dudelson / Getty Images / 2016 Scott Dudelson
It is possible to be born too early for the world to develop a language to understand the way you move and to make you feel, throughout your formative years, how the difference between you and everyone else is a crime that justifies punitive action, wrong behavior, or a belief system that you need to unlearn. People don’t often question their conditioning. Why would they do it, when conformity provides structure, when ritual gives order? People are afraid of what they don’t understand, even if it doesn’t hurt them. “Father, forgive them because they do not know what they are doing. “” Klaatu barada nikto. “
Fiona Apple’s “Fetch the Bolt Cutters” is a return to a less “ordinary” life. In a shaky and conversational tone, Apple explains what happens when you do not match any of the prefab cookie cutter images that are attributed to you as you grow up: “So that I had not yet found my bearings / These girls ground / Comparing the way I was to the way it was / To say that I am not elegant enough and I cry too much / And I listened because I had not yet found my own voice / So all that I could hear was the noise that / People make when they don’t know shit / … But I didn’t know it yet. The classically trained singer-songwriter and pianist first came to fame as a teenager almost 25 years ago with the touching torch songs and brilliant poetry of her 1996 debut album. Tide and author Mark Romanek’s video for “Criminal”, a decadent scene of promiscuous youth in New York City known until then only by those in contact with the demimondes of the Upper East and West Side who live or be seen the lens of movies like Larry Clark’s grubby but not cinema unrealistic real tragedy Kids.
“Criminal” printed a dark image on Apple that did not suit reality, the way D’angelo’s racy clip “Untitled (How Does It Feel)” made a pianist’s sexual symbol overnight shy church and a preacher’s child. Fiona expressed her dissatisfaction with the machinery of celebrity idolatry on stage during the 1997 MTV VMA, proclaiming “This world is bullshit” while winning a trophy for best new artist. It was a minor scandal, but it made the artist so difficult for an already harsh audience of gossip magazines, rock fans and music critics. In 1999, a Rolling stone review of Apple’s second album When the pawn… compared her to Korn and Limp Bizkit, saying that the three of them “still haven’t started to feel the most rudimentary pangs of life’s curiosity beyond their emotional cocoon. ” A Turn 2000 profile suggested she woo controversy: “Make a highly publicized unconventional decision (in your first interviews, discuss how your song” Sullen Girl “is about to be raped at age 12 years old; put on your underwear and curl up in a closet for your video), so be surprised when this action, rather than the exceptional music you create, becomes the subject of discussion. ”
After the hectic end of the 90s, Apple began to settle into another groove. She moved to Los Angeles and worked on music for inspiration, sometimes not at all. It is present at all times but not rooted. You can see her as the rare pop star of the 90s who still houses the spark that opened the way to celebrity, or you can see her in an independent rock environment with songwriters like Aimee Mann, John Darnielle and Elliott Smith. Or you could treat it like a miraculous. She doesn’t care which viewfinder you use. (“Be nice to me, or treat me badly”, she sang on the title Extraordinary machine, “I’ll make the most of it. I am an extraordinary machine. “) Apple thinks so; she doesn’t chase the spotlight or keep dedicated social media accounts, though dispatches appear on the Fiona Apple Rocks Tumblr page. A month ago, a video showing her watching the 1950 comedy Born yesterday, a kind of girl Friday story of a woman learning the label from a suitor, and quietly signing the words, “My file is done. “
Collect the bolt cutters, Fiona Apple’s fifth studio album and their first since 2012 The crazy wheel, is free and uncompromising, the kind of art she’s positioned to do all along. It’s crude and crude, without the lush touches of the producers who host the first two albums in the company of late 90’s indie-pop cognoscenti and the brilliant radio of Extraordinary machine. As Crazy wheel, bolt cutter let the singer’s voice and piano run the show, anchored by dilapidated percussion that gives each song the feel of an improvised jam session in the living room. Apple may knock out a perfect full rocker in its sleep, but bolt cutter works with a skeleton crew, letting the cadence of its voice and the musculature of its instruments tick where the pretty thick and pretty ornaments are enough. It occupies large space. The fullness of his piano playing is evident in the first minute. “I Want You to Love Me” deposits a high level melody on long and bright bass notes. A piece of bass guitar – played by Sebastian Steinberg, friend of regular Apple collaborator Jon Brion and former member of New York jazz-rock group Soul Coughing – slips into the picture without attracting attention. In the end, the song took off as Apple’s piano tripled, and his voice went over the top of his register in cries without words.
bolt cutter is a volcanic expulsion of the mind, a dance along the dividing line between joy and pain. “I want you to love me” reaches out with the all-or-nothing intensity of a declaration of war: “I move with the trees in the breeze / I know the weather is elastic / And I know when I leave / All my particles dissolve and disperse / And I will be back in the pulse, »all of this to unroll the title line as a high-stakes proposition. Apple remains a devastating lyricist. “Relay” removes a line from his diary and exposes the idea years later: “I blame you for being so sure”, she sings to an anonymous offender, voice trembling with virtuous fury, “I don’t appreciate your presenting your life as a fucking propaganda brochure. This is a lesson on how to mobilize your rage: “Evil is a relay race when the one who is burned turns around to pass the torch. “Later,” Rack of His “turns a mirror on the masculine gaze:” Discover this rack of sound / Look at this row of guitar necks / Aligned like greedy fillies, stretched like Rockettes legs. “Newspaper” and “Ladies” wonder why ex-men should be enemies. “Ladies, ladies, ladies,” exclaims the latter, “Take it easy / When he leaves me, be my guest / To everything I could have left in his kitchen cupboards.”
These songs remain playful and dynamic despite the weight of their subject. Fiona Apple – author of overwhelming melodies like “Not About Love” and “Parting Gift”, rotoscopic recreations of moments when internal conflicts break up a couple in two – has made a breakthrough. She wrote love songs and sad songs, going through aspirations and regrets. New songs follow on the line The crazy wheel“Every Single Night”: “I just want to feel everything. ” Collect the bolt cutters guess life is the sum of candy and bitters and dispersions in the same dish. “Heavy Balloon” is a song that speaks not only of depression but of the struggle to keep it at bay. “Shameika” is a memory of boring and discouraging school days that focus not on the insensitivity of the bullies, but on concise and encouraging words from a stranger. Apple is taking days in stride now, doing what it wants instead of what is expected of it. The title track sums it up succinctly: “I grew up in the shoes they told me I could fill / Shoes that weren’t made to climb this hill / And I need to climb this hill, I need to climb this hill / I will do it, I will do it, I will do it, I will do it, I will do it. “