Letter To Tori Amos From a Fan:

Dear Tori Amos:

Your album Little Earthquakes is great. No, it’s not just great. It’s beyond great. I bought it the summer it came out – and I bought the cassette – and promptly listened to it so much over the next year, that it eventually wore out, and I had to buy the same tape a couple more times, to replace the first one. That album never ended for me. I KEPT needing to hear it. Similar situation to Color and the Shape by Foo Fighters later on in the decade. Just want to give you some background, Tori, on my response to that album. I saw you play at Park West in Chicago, before Little Earthquakes came out. I hadn’t even heard the album, but Interview mag had done a little promo about you that made you sound interesting. So off I went, by myself, and you gave one of the most incredible live shows – you and your grand piano – that I have ever seen.

Enough.

Here’s the deal. The power of little Earthquakes is enough for me to keep buying your stuff. Okay? I bought Under the Pink. Your lyrics got more obscure and personal – like, I was unable to get in there with you in whatever obscure experience you were having – and your accent began to morph into something unbearably unintelligible. I mean, how on earth do you make the words “club sandwich” sound like ancient Celtic Solstice chants? I don’t know, but you do. There was some good stuff on Under the Pink. Not Little Earthquakes, certainly, but that’s okay. How could anything ever compare to THAT album?

On the power of that one album, released in 1992, Tori – I have bought every one of your lame-ass weirdo records. The only one I even mildly enjoyed was the Choirgirl Hotel. Now this may just be my taste in music. I like loud, aggressive, exciting stuff. You can do it, Little Earthquakes has a lot of that on there. But a lot of girls like your songs because some of them are drippy-introspective-emotional-constantly-PMSing-and-communing-with-the-moon girl. They listen to those songs and know that Tori understands, Tori understands the goddess in them, Tori “gets it”. I don’t care about those songs, and always skip over them. I don’t need you to understand my inner goddess. I need you to rock the house. I like the loud Tori, I like the angry Tori (In Waitress, when you suddenly start screaming: “And I believe in peace – bitch …” AWESOME). Little Earthquakes was full of that stuff … but maybe your hardcore fans, the whiny wymyn’s festival contingent, prefer the melancholy mopey stuff? Or … I don’t know. I can’t guess. But Choirgirl Hotel with some of its rockin’ churning beats … was closer to my type of music, closer to the loud sudden mood-change stuff that you did on Little Earthquakes.

But since then?

YAWN.

I just bought Beekeeper. I was filled with hope. I ALWAYS approach your stuff with hope … which just goes to show you the lasting impact of that first album. I will follow you anywhere, Tori. I may not like it, but I will follow you.

I have to tell you that I am losing my patience, though. I don’t like one song on Beekeeper. It’s all your moany obscure wymyn-in-the-forest shite, there’s none of that rage and sex and startlingly weird lyrics (Buddha doing crossword with a pen?? GREAT SONG, girl!!) … and I’m pretty close to giving up on you.

But I’ll tell ya: you’ve put out a lot of albums since that first one. And I’m still here, despite the fact that you haven’t satisfied me ONCE since then.

I mean, whatever, create, express yourself, moan like a Druid and write opaque lyrics and sing in some hybrid accent. This is where you’re at now.

Just want to tell you that I miss you. I’m bummed out. I’ll never listen to Beekeeper again. It feckin’ sucks. Yawn. Do you have PMS every day, or …

Waiting for the next one now. Battered, beaten, disappointed … but still hopeful.