|
That seems simple enough: undress a terrorist and you might find something as amusing as a pair of orange knickers, right? But no, it’s more complicated than that. "Orange is a color that intrigues me, not just because of Guantánamo Bay," she explains, referring to the orange prison uniforms inmates wear. "But William of Orange came over to Ireland, and you’ve got people over there who understand terrorism in a way that we don’t. We’re just learning about it because of what happened a few years ago to us. But the Irish and the British have been in this now for quite a long time. So, having lived in Ireland — I have a house there, and I live in England and I live in America — I see it from different perspectives. But I wanted to free up the word so that people can reclaim it and therefore won’t just have a kneejerk reaction to it every time the terrorist button gets pushed — so that you won’t immediately get a picture in your mind of a guy in a turban every time the alert level goes from orange to amber. Instead, maybe you should get a picture in your mind of a guy with a suit. Or maybe it’s a woman who’s a teacher. Or your boss, who keeps coming onto you and embarrasses you every time you have your marketing meeting, because she wants you and you’re just not into her. So she emasculates you in front of people. Now, that would be pretty invasive. And maybe that’s your terrorist. I think it started when my daughter Tash was asking me, ‘What’s a terrorist?’, because she heard the word on the news. So I tried to explain. Finally she looked at me and said, ‘Mommy, you mean like the bully on the playground?’ And I said, ‘Yeah, that’s what I mean, but that bully can be inside, too.’ It can be anywhere." I’m starting to understand why Amos doesn’t like to talk about her songs. "Cornflake Girl" has always been one of my favorite Tori Amos songs, and not just because Jawbox do a great cover of it. There’s something appealing about its undulating piano chordings and its open-ended chorus. When I found out the song had been inspired by an Alice Walker book that deals with female circumcision, The Temple of My Familiar, I felt I’d missed the point. "Well, it’s not about that Alice Walker book," Amos says. "It’s about female betrayal. And there’s female betrayal within the Alice Walker book. I had my own things going on at the time that I was reading the book, and that’s what the song came out of. It’s no different from ‘The Beekeeper’s Daughter’ by Sylvia Plath. The new album is not about that. But it’s one ingredient in a soup that’s the size of Australia." Pop music certainly has a right to be as complex as a Plath poem, with internal references that might require research or, perhaps now that every artist has his or her own Web site, even footnotes. And that’s what Piece by Piece amounts to. As Amos admits, "I don’t think I talk about what the songs are about, ever. I think I give back story and I give symbolism. But what they’re about can’t be nailed down, because your take on them is as valid as mine. When I talk about a song, that’s only my opinion. As a person, of course I have a relationship with songs. But I don’t necessarily believe that that’s what they’re about. That may sound silly, but it’s not if you really think about it." In fact, you don’t have to know anything about the Nag Hammadi texts to enjoy The Beekeeper. It may be pleasing to discover that behind the yearning of Tori’s voice on "Parasol," the rolling piano chords of "Jamaica Inn," or the social critique of "Barons of Suburbia," there are archetypes and structures that tie one song to the next, and that there are deep thoughts buried in the hooks of "The Power of Orange Knickers." And the notion of a garden as a thematic backdrop for The Beekeeper may have been necessary for the creation of the individual songs on the album — all 19 of them. In the end, though, the songs will stand or fall on their own merits. Even Amos seems to appreciate that as she puts in one last word about the album. "In Cornwall [where she owns a home], there’s quite a strong tradition of beekeeping. We have our medicine men and medicine women that go back in our tradition in America. I would say the parallel to that kind of shaman in Cornwall would be the bee master or bee mistress . . . " Her voice trails off as she moves on to more immediate concerns. "On that note, I’m off to rehearsal so I don’t fall on my face. You know, I wear high heels. And I could easily teeter and fall off. So I need a little more practice in my high heels before we start the tour." Tori Amos performs this Tuesday, April 12, at the Orpheum Theatre, 1 Hamilton Place in Boston; call (617) 931-2000.
page 1
page 2
|
