Okay, Alanis. You win.

Remember the old days, when I used to vehemently dislike you? The guy across the hall from my dorm room freshman year was obsessed with your song about "Rain on your wedding day", some of my friends were complaining about how your griping over sweaters being on inside out and whatnot was jamming up the airwaves and diluting the purity of modern rock radio, and in general, that shrill voice was everywhere. Everywhere, I tell you. I couldn't escape it. It threatened me. It told me that I was a screwed-up loser like all the other guys. I hated you for that.

But there was that one guy. I know, he's long gone now and I shouldn't bring him up, but the guy you wrote "Head Over Feet" for - he sounded like the kinda guy I wanted to be. I liked you when you were safe and mellow and not attacking anybody. And when you advised me to walk around naked in my living room - OK, so I've always thought you had a bit of a weird obsession with nudity, but you know, I could kinda see where you were coming from on that one. These little snippets of sound advice made me ever so slightly curious about you. Even though I said your music was worthless, I secretly wondered whether the more mature, mellow side of you would emerge on future recordings.

The funny thing was that you gave me my wish, and I wasn't quite open-minded enough to realize it. Remember when I worked in that music store, and you finally got that second album out (OK, fourth, but honestly, who really counts those first two?), and everybody bought it, and no one understood it? I was intrigued by it, every time the store's CD player shuffled around to another unexpected selection from that CD. Songs that most fair-weather fans didn't give the time of day became secretly embedded in my brain. Suddenly you were showing us where you had been at fault in the past. You were seriously thinking about spirituality. Suddenly you were thanking, and encouraging, and asking a vast array of questions. It was too much to process. I guess I was still too high and mighty to plunk down some cash and make you mine back then. But I was listening... sort of.

A few years (and a lot of growing up on my part) later, you finally hooked me. You made a sort of comeback, ready to talk about the good and the bad, the wise and the shallow, and you resonated with me on so many levels. You reminded me to hold steadfast to the things I really wanted in a lover, and you helped me not to flinch at the mention of an old lover's name. Best of all, you made an admirable attempt to see the world from the eyes of a man. People lambasted you for that, Alanis, and suddenly, I was the one on your side. I still didn't call myself a "fan". But I owned a record.

Well, I've gone back, and you've gone forward. I dug more deeply into Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie right around the same time when you unleashed So-Called Chaos onto the world. I've become a little more curious and patient, and you've become a little less threatening and a little more mainstream. And I'm sure you might get lambasted for that, too. I might have a few moments where I feel like doing that, truth be told, but at think point, I think I'm starting to get you. You had your bitter teenage years, and your experimental college years, and now that I've learned to listen more and pre-judge less, those years fascinate me. Maybe in full artistic adulthood, you don't throw me as many curveballs any more, but you snagged me with Under Rug Swept, and with this newest disc of yours, I think I can just go ahead and label you a fan.

So, would you mind if I went ahead and did the cliché "fan thing" and wrote you a letter? I figure it's only fair if you were gonna be cliché and put out a 10-song album, after you've been daring enough to reach 17 in the past. It's all good. You've still got some good advice to dispense here, and your quirky lyricism is as strong as ever. It all makes me wonder how frustrating it would be for someone like you to fill out a Sunday crossword puzzle, trying to come up with a 10-letter word for "pleased", realizing that "assuaged" only had 8, but deciding that you'd make it fit anyway. It's a strange life you lead, Miss Wordsmith. But your inkwell never seems to run dry.

So anyway, enough with the gushing. On with the songs.

Eight Easy Steps
How to hate women when you're supposed to be a feminist
How to play all pious when you're really a hypocrite...
Well, Alanis, I have to say that this was an absolutely great way to start! Hook 'em with an edgy melody that takes a while before they finally realize that the notes you've attached your words to actually do flow well together, and then slam into 'em full force with a speedy, rocking chorus that outpaces anything you've ever done before... and then deliver the death blow with pure sarcasm. That's the way to write a memorable song! In the past you've unleashed attacks on men who revealed themselves to be Cretans, and you've explored irony in non-ironic ways, but here, the sword of sarcasm is clearly point inward. Go ahead, tell 'em what a great leader you are, and tell 'em how to completely goof up their self-image and their relationships with pretty much everyone. It's elementary, my dear Morissette. Of course, I think they can all tell that you're masking self-deprecation with faux-pride here. But it doesn't make this "course of a lifetime" any less educational, even as your crazy, list-obsessed lyrics fly by, whipping through three verses, a bridge, and several repetitions of that scathing chorus in under three minutes. This list is even tighter that "21 Things I Want in a Lover", and that's quite an accomplishment - even if I have to guffaw when you proclaim that you've been practicing your a$$ off in the bridge. You have this strange fascination with the gluteus maximus that keeps cropping up in your lyrics!

Out Is Through
Every time that I'm confused, I think there must be easier ways
Every time our horns are locked, I'm towel throwing...
Well, if you were veiling the sort of wisdom that only comes from falling flat on your face in front of everyone in the last track, you're definitely being open and straightforward about it here. To tell the truth, you kind of jolted me out of headbanging mode when you chose to lead off your second track with a subdued acoustic guitar intro - a ballad this early in the album after such a biting opener? No matter. Despite your deceptively simple melody, you've managed to tap into a fundamental truth about relationships here, one that strikes me as being worlds apart from some of the bitterness of your past. As your quirky, but lovable voice weaves its way through a series of clever metaphors and bits and pieces of catch phrases that describe the desire to run screaming in the other direction the minute things get rough in a relationship with, you manage to get a grip on yourself and remind us that "The only way out is through". You must've taken the words right out of my mouth, because I wrote a song out of frustration not long after a difficult breakup a few years ago, and those exact same words were my central point as I sorted through the ashes. Why is it that we run from the least little sign of imperfection, only to start over again with someone else who will only repeat the pattern? Why do we shy away from difficult conversations and opportunities to truly plumb the depths of the ones we say we love? You've addressed that here with a deft balance between folk, pop, and rock, and a thoroughly engaging sense of melody and timing, even if a tendency to like Yoda your sentences rearrange you still have, and pronounce words like "ultiMATEly" with accents in really odd places you still do.

Excuses
Bringing these into the light
Shakes their foundation and clears my sight
Now my imagination is the only thing
That limits the bar and its rise to the heights...
Smooth pop approach as you glide through the verses, full-throttle rocking power on the chorus. I think I understand your M.O. on this album a lot better now. Some might say it's formulaic. I guess it gets predictable at times, but if one is going to utilize the traditional pop/rock song model, one might as well go for broke. I think you've done that with this engaging tune, as you explore the conspiracy of your doubts and your pride which ensures that you think much and do very little. Alanis, if I had a nickel for every time I'd allowed that to happen to me, I might be able to compete with your songwriting royalties. I think you're at your best when you're examining these faults and quirks within yourself, and seeking to not let them hold you back "I'm too dumb, I'm too smart". How could one believe both of those things all at once? Whatever excuse keeps you from trying something unfamiliar, I guess. I love how the chorus melody you've cooked up here seems to jump into another key and then back down again - it's a bit startling at first, but you've got a gift for making melodies go where I don't always expect them to. I suppose that your musical portrait of the excuses that keep you locked in your own cell ends up sounding a bit like the "Precious Illusions" you talked about on the past album, but that's OK. Especially if you can back it up with another video that is as creative as the dual scenarios that you played out for the aforementioned song.

Doth I Protest Too Much
I'm not tortured by how oft you're busy
'cause I've got things to do
I'm not disappointed about how you don't miss me
'Cause I don't need you to...
Funny question you ask there, Alanis, because I don't really hear you protesting at all. I hear a mellow, reflective song that isn't too far removed from "Flinch", but that reveals a much more confident and assured side of you, and for a split second I'm tempted to swoon. Do men swoon? Oh well, never mind that bit of silliness. It's immaterial, since you're delivering a barrage of reassuring information about how self-sufficient and understanding you are about the way your main squeeze checks out other girls and goes off to do his own thing for long stretches of time, how it doesn't bother you in the slightest. "I'm not despondent, I am not dark as such", you tell him with a sly wink and a smile in my direction, as if to say that you're obviously being sarcastic again, and you're just that good of an actress - he can't tell. But then you go and give yourself away with a completely contradictory (and oddly Shakespearean) line, which you decided to use as the title of the song. Why did you do that? I know, it's the temptation of so many women, to cover up the concerns that they really have and the things that make them feel hurt, so that they won't seem clingy and fragile and needy. We can tell that you're not bulletproof, Alanis. It's OK. You can admit it to this guy. If he can't handle it, then well, you've had no problem giving these types of losers the kiss-off on past records. Pull yourself together, woman!

Knees of My Bees
You are a spirit that knows of no limit
Who knows of no ceiling, who balks at dead ends
You are a wordsmith who cares for his brothers
Not seduced by illusion or fair weather friends...
Or maybe you can work things out after all. I mean, this guy has you totally smitten - so much that you'd gush for pages and pages, delighting in the opportunity to publicly embarrass yourself with a loud declaration that your boyfriend is beyond spiffy, beyond groovy, beyond ultra-neato, he's "The knees of my bees". All I have to say is, stick a fork in her, she's done, because only people who are head over heels (feet?) in love can lavish such barf-inducing metaphors on the objects of their affection. I shouldn't judge your work on the basis of the worst chorus you've ever written, I suppose - I mean, you've got that Middle Eastern thing shamelessly woven throughout this song, and hey, sitars never fails to make the knees of my bees jumble and buckle. And the way you list your lover's characteristics is somewhat charming (more so when you say that he's got "Tendencies for conversations that raise bars" than when you state that he "cops when he's lied" - WTH?), even if you've thrown all regard for accentuation to the wind as you spit out syllable after syllable at precise intervals. How is it that you can be so confounding methodical and yet throw caution to the wind all at once? Even when you fail to write a memorable song, you still manage to amuse me greatly.

So-Called Chaos
Deadlines and meetings and contracts all breached
D-days and structure, responsibility
Have to's and need to's and get to's by three
Eleventh hours and upset employees...
So, you've got a 10-song album... and now you've actually got a title track? Well, that's not very enigmatic of you. I'm used to having to dig for an album title amidst a pile of bizarre verbiage. But never mind. You've got a slow, controlled, hand-percussion thing here that actually seems to mellow you out a bit - we may just have reached an all-time low in terms of the words-to-seconds ratio. And yet that doesn't stop you from emphasizing syllables willy nilly - heck, you're pronouncing one word as if it's two throughout most of the verses here. These syllables come in short waves, like foreshocks to the roaring buzz of guitars that shakes up the chorus. And then we're back to another mellow verse where you pain systematic pictures of the Dilbert-like workplace that every cubicle occupant would love to break free of. "I wanna be naked, running through the streets", you wail during the chorus. Are you sure about that, Alanis? I guess I can accept it once again as metaphor. You've certainly been more "naked" with your listeners than Britney or Cristina would ever dream of being. Even when you've got a song like this that seems to break apart due to the tension between its rage and its restraint, I don't feel like you're being anything but real with me.

Not All Me
I bear the brunt of your long-buried pain
I don't mind helping you out
But I want you to remember my name...
Ah, here we are, back to splitting the difference wisely, not venturing into self-destructive denial, nor too far into giddy love, but simply working through issues with someone you love. When you delve into this sort of psychology, it seems to be when your words resonate with me the most. I can't think of a time when I've heard you into a poppier mode - from the steady pulse of synths that opens this song, to the full-bodied, keyboard-topped instrumentation that comprises most of it, I can tell that you're comfortable with yourself in this mode, allowing yourself to shamelessly compose a catchy tune without feeling like you've got to make it sound like the "trendy" side of pop music. I'll admit to overlooking this one at first, but when I really dug into it, I found some wise words of warning to someone you genuinely cared about, reminding him that you're fine with helping him overcome his old relationship baggage, but that you are your own person and it's not fair for him to expect you to let him down in all the same ways that God knows how many ex-girlfriends did. I mean, if he could expect that of you, then just imagine what you'd expect from him! I think I needed to hear this one about two years ago, actually. But better late than never.

This Grudge
You've been vilified, used as fodder
You deserve a piece of every record...
You know, Alanis, I'm really happy that things are working so well for you and Mr. Van Wilder, but you know what I'm even happier about? It's the realization that you've extended the olive branch of forgiveness to someone who clearly hurt you a great deal in the past. "14 years, 30 minutes, 15 seconds... 11 songs, 4 full journals..." it's people like us who seem to be the most accurate when it comes to keeping a record of the wrongs done to us, how much they hurt, and exactly when they happened. It can be fun at first, in a perverse sort of way, but as you've observed, it can be all-consuming, until that ugly person that we can't forgive suddenly turns to the face in the mirror staring back at us, and we freak out. This song is like, headline news, given that you practically built an entire freaking career on a song of rage directed at this very individual. (Yeah, you had plenty of other songs back then, too, some which I wish got more attention... but that's showbiz for you.) You know what's weird about this song, though? For all these years, critics over in my neck of the woods have reamed Christian singer Rebecca St. James for trying to sound like you, and in a purely coincidental move, you've managed to echo the melody of her song "Speak to Me". It must be something about how that C major seventh resolves to a full C. It's an absolutely lovely acoustic ballad in any case - perhaps an even more arresting letter than the ones you left "Unsent". My, how you've grown.

Spineless
I'll redefine self-sacrifice
Live my life as apologetic compromise
I know you'd leave if I rocked the boat...
I guess it's never too late to take one last jaded glance back at the world of control freaks and the people who are enslaved by them out of some blind notion of love, and give 'em another sarcastic jab, eh? I don't know; you might just be beating a dead horse at this point, since your desire to be your own person and not just to be "the prettiest appendage to ever lose herself" has come through so clearly in some of the other songs on this album. I mean, great message, delivered oh-so-tongue-in-cheek, but you know, you're kind of preaching to the choir on this one. I mean, what Stepford wife listens to Alanis Morissette records in the first place? I admire your attempt to play the role of the willing victim here, and you've done it with an electric guitar rhythm that never ceases to throw me off, but I guess I prefer the sneak attack to the obvious one when you make an attempt at sarcasm.

Everything
I blame everyone else, and not my own partaking
My passive aggressive-ness can be devastating
I'm terrified and mistrusting
And you've never met anyone who is as closed down as I am sometimes...
Why, Alanis, why? We were getting along so well, and then you had to go and end your album with one of the least musically interesting pieces you've ever laid to tape, and your record company had to add insult to injury by making it the first single. And then your rear-end obsession pops up again in the very first line of the song when you proclaim that "I can be an a**hole of the grandest kind". We all can, but boy, does that phrase leave a bad taste in my mouth that remains difficult to wash out for the rest of the song. I like the premise - you're a jerk sometimes, you're sickeningly sweet at others, you're funny, you're dull, you're all of those assorted things that some Alanis impostor sang about all those years ago in that "B!tch" song. But the music just takes it nowhere and sorry, but your chorus is just plain dull. You've come up with a radio-ready ballad on auto-pilot and I know you're capable of so much more. I'm glad your man loves you for everything that you are, and he even "digs" the scary stuff. I guess it just could have been expressed so much more climactically than this.

It's OK, Alanis. You might have 2 irritating quirks that rear their ugly heads on this album, but so many of your other quirks are incredibly loveable, and there are a few others that I'm not terribly bothered by. Maybe I miss the wild side of you that I knew two years ago, but I'm learning that our relationship is like that of good friends caught up in fascinatingly detailed conversations that last until 3 in the morning, not some sort of a torrid love affair that blossomed out of pure hatred for each other, like they always do in the movies. This is real life. And I'm learning to appreciate how you articulate that life, in all of its So-Called Chaos. You make more sense than you think you do.

So, like I said, you win. I'm a fan now, and with that, I will end this oddly phrased and embarrassingly personal letter.

Sincerely,
divad23

ALBUM WORTH:
Eight Easy Steps $2
Out Is Through $2
Excuses $1.50
Doth I Protest Too Much $1
Knees of My Bees -$.50
So-Called Chaos $1
Not All Me $1
This Grudge $1.50
Spineless $.50
Everything $0
TOTAL: $10

CONCLUSION: What's there is mostly great. I just wish there was a little more to this album. Certainly she had to have written some better B-sides than "Knees of My Bees" and "Everything"... right? In any event, it's probably a worthwhile buy if you can get it used.

Website: http://www.alanis.com

Great Music to Play While: Composing psychologically imbalanced fanmail.

Recommended: Yes