krisisPM's Full Review: Boys for Pele by Tori Amos
Tori Amos's Boys For Pele is intimidating, initially just because of its length (nineteen songs) or the cover image of a stern Tori casually slinging a rifle over her knee while playing footsie with a python. Not surprisingly, the album lacks immediately accessible songs as literal as "Silent All These Years," or as direct as "God." However, behind its very steep learning curve, Pele can be entirely addictive... almost overwhelmingly so.
Almost any song on the album splits the opinions of casual fans and devotees alike, like the yowling harpsichord rock of "Professional Widow" and the drawling "Little Amsterdam." The disc does offer a few unequivocable classics, and they are the best entry into this bloody mess of personal mythology: the meandering solo piano and nursery rhyme lyrics of opener "Horses," the intricate keyboards and pounding drums of radio hit "Caught A Lite Sneeze," the quiet fury of resignation on the aching "Doughnut Song," and the whirling BT mix of the otherwise baroque "Talula" (which has supplanted the original on almost all repressings of the disc).
*Boys For Pele* is an album that manages to wear its heart on its sleeve without telegraphing its emotions too easily; the pain and resignation is there to be heard, but it's up to the listener to create a context for it. If you can manage to find your way through some of the more immediately effective songs, other classic moments like the queer blues of "Springtime of His Voodoo" and the lilting eigth-notes on "Father Lucifer" suddenly make sense -- even though you might never know what Tori meant by them. Also not to be missed: the signature balladry on "Hey Jupiter" and "Putting The Damage On." The album works on so many levels because it presents the unadulterated sound of Tori Amos; here she self-produces for the first time, and knowing that she turned a nob on every sound on this disc makes it almost confrontationally personal despite its overwhelmingly obscure lyrics.
Not only is everything under Tori's control, but nothing is held back... from lyrics ("I got my rape hat on, but I always could accesorize") to performances (the furious choruses of "Blood Roses" are almost painful to hear), to the songs themselves (the kooky "Mr. Zebra," the spare bookends "Beauty Queen" & "Twinkle"). This full bleed or, rather, fully bleeding manner of presentation makes liking Pele akin to rubbernecking past a highway accident or listening to your neighbors fight through thin plaster walls.
The difference is that Tori Amos toiled to record her grief and anger so that anyone could listen at any time. Choosing to hear them, though, is entirely up to the listener.
Epinions.com periodically updates pricing and product information from third-party sources, so some information may be slightly out-of-date. You should confirm all information before relying on it.
- Add to My Yahoo!: 
- Add to Google Homepage: 
© 1999-2009 Shopping.com, Inc.