How does it compare to the artist's other releases
Outstanding
Value for Money
Advantages:
Tori is once more at her best .
Disadvantages:
Not enough angst for a few .
Recommend to potential buyers:
yes
Full review
On first hearing Tori’s mammoth, 18-track album released well over a year ago, the appeal was not immediate. Yet I could sense an intangible beauty buried within, just waiting to be found.
Now I find Scarlet’s Walk to be Tori Amos at her finest once again. It’s taken possession of me much as Little Earthquakes did in 1992. (Earthquakes is the first album by the Tori Amos we’ve all come to know. Her supposedly subpar goth-metal album, Y Kant Tori Read from 1988, sank quickly into oblivion.)
I was an early true believer, but never joined the “Ears with Feet” club (Tori’s term for her diehard followers). I have loved some of her music well, but all but stopped listening when her eccentric tendencies took over, especially after Under the Pink (1994). I can’t say I’ve understood much on the angst-filled Boys for Pele (1996) or From the Choirgirl Hotel (although the wondrous Jackie’s Strength still sends chills down my spine), all darkly creative albums devoured hungrily by hardcore Toriphiles.
Things took a different turn with Scarlet’s Walk. Now married and a mom, Tori traveled across the USA following the traumatic events of September 11, 2001. The voyage yielded a bountiful harvest of songs that would later find form in a travel/historical diary of America. It would feature a character named Scarlet, who/which may symbolize Tori’s alter ego, America, or a trail of blood traced through the history of the country.
Scarlet’s Walk returns to the stripped-down music of Little Earthquakes, but goes beyond a mere rerun of the latter. Tori sounds more settled, mature, less tortured and raw this time around. Vocals may be restrained, but none of that musical potency is lost--it’s just taken on more sophistication and less in-your-face immediacy. Tracks pulsate with rhythms applied with a sure and steady hand by drummer Matt Chamberlain and bassist David Jon Evans. Acoustic instruments dominate in relatively skeletal arrangements that made her debut album such a classy act: piano and keyboards, and unobtrusive drums, guitars, bass, occasional strings and flute, all centered around that voice, here mercifully free of unnecessary distractions--that singular, tremulous, brittle voice that evokes honesty, intimacy, fragility and strength all at once, the same voice that soars into outer space on diaphanous, ethereal harmonies.
A greater discipline and subtlety are evident, and nothing is as it seems at first blush. The songs don’t grab you with the same urgency of Little Earthquakes, for the waters are gentle but no less deep here. Some tracks sound similar on first hearing, but their distinct identities become clearer with repeated listens. Phrases of sheer melodic beauty and deep hooks abound, setting up shop in your subconscious without warning. Soon enough, the brilliance of the songs emerges to dazzle you in a quiet way.
Pancake has perhaps the most censorious lyrics, and hypnotizes with repeats of a simple musical phrase. Blessed with an intriguing key change in the chorus and Tori’s vulnerable vocal, Your Cloud has since lodged itself in my brain. Strange is a languid beauty that gets lovely highlights from the strings of the Sinfonia of London. Together with John Philip Shenale’s soothing flute, the Sinfonia also add vibrancy to the freewheeling Mrs. Jesus. Agile twists in rhythm and key signature will get you singing along to Another Girl’s Paradise, while the looped, interweaving melodic threads on Virginia can be as spine-tingling as polyphony in a Mass by J S Bach.
The title track opens with ghostly sounds incorporating tonal elements of Native American song, and Tori offers some seraphic harmonies on the words, “Scarlet’s Walk”. It might be one of several nods to Tori’s Cherokee ancestry, besides the 48-second Wampum Prayer sung a cappella. Tori’s short piano runs and loops, acoustic guitar and percussion set up Carbon’s nervous rhythm, upon which Tori layers the descending vocal line and more angelic harmonies. Orchestral strings return to bring a grand, cinematic sweep to the movingly nostalgic/elegiacal/celebratory album closer, Gold Dust (apparently a reference to her new motherhood).
And yet some tracks seem to have sprung forth fully formed as marvelous specimens of skilled songcraft. Notwithstanding their bittersweet lyrics, Amber Waves, Sorta Fairytale, Mrs. Jesus, Sweet Sangria and Taxi Ride all glide along on smooth, suave and infectious rhythms. The funky beat to Don’t Make Me Come to Vegas guarantees toe-tapping hummability. Airy harmonies give the laid-back Crazy that extra thrill in the refrain, and I wonder if ex-Pretenders guitarist Robbie McIntosh should take the blame for the twanging electric riffs reminiscent of his old band.
Tori’s response to the post-9/11 world in this album ranks as one of the more powerful, sympathetic and subtly critical among that mixed bag of songs spawned by those horrific events. Many of these would reflect their writers’ inability to think or feel through the pervasive fog of knee-jerk, infantile, jingoistic, if understandably rage-filled, reactions. In multiple interviews, Tori has expressed restrained but unequivocal anger about the stultifying attitudes now prevailing in America, the “emotional blackmail” and shaming that greeted those who dared to look about them and raise questions “that needed to be asked”, that tended to cast doubt on official declarations. Such feelings sparked Tori’s literal and figurative trek across the country, exploring what America meant to her, surveying the current and historical landscape with unblinking eyes. I quote the lines that follow with scant regard for Tori’s official Scarlet Walk stories, but for their timeliness with respect to the headlines of the day:
“You say that I can’t see behind / the Mask of those who call themselves / The Good Guys in this / who take and take / ‘so are you with Me or not’ you say” (Sweet Sangria)
“I believe in defending / in what we once stood for / It seems in vogue / to be a closet misogynist homophobe” (Pancake)
“Just another Dead Fag to you / that’s all” (Taxi Ride, about the death from AIDS of her good friend, makeup artist Kevin Aucoin)
Tori alludes to the Americans’ historical guilt at the decimation of the Native American culture and population as well:
“We’re just Imposters in this country you know” (in the final verse of Sorta Fairytale, cut from the radio version)
“ ‘What do you plan to do with all your freedom?’ / the new sheriff said / quite proud of his Badge / You must admit the land / is now in good hands / yes time will tell that”. (Scarlet’s Walk)
Finally, there’s the seven-minute I Can’t See New York, an unusually direct bit of storytelling for Tori, who found herself in New York City during the attacks. She sings from the viewpoint of a victim or perhaps, a witness: “13,000 and holding / swallowed in the purring of her Engines / tracking the Beacon here ... But I can’t see New York / as I’m circling down / through white cloud / I’m falling out”. Tori trails off towards the end, giving neither relief nor resolution to the anxious listener. It’s a beautifully haunting track that captures the panic, disorientation and desperation of those moments of great tragedy.
Tori’s unique diction and phrasing continue to stretch syllables across lines of changing notes, with occasional obtuseness added to already vague lyrics. With her aspirated “I”’s (“And I wonder / When will ha-aye [I] learn?” on Strange) and squashed vowels (“I’m sooh sad” on Sorta Fairytale), and neo-diphthongs (“he’s got a Healing Machine / that gul-lows in the dee-ark” [Amber Waves]), it’s not surprising that listeners can be driven batty to the point of exasperation--or adoration. Exceptions are I Can’t See New York and Gold Dust, in which Tori’s vocal takes center stage, with a rare clarity to her words.
I shan’t even dare attempt a song-by-song analysis here, a task too daunting for my small skills. Included with the disc is a map of the USA with routes through places marked to correspond to different tracks.Tori’s “official” explanations of the songs in the context of her conceptualization of the whole work are also available online and on disc.
Well, Tori’s interpretations are well and good, but her lyrics remain doggedly mystifying just the same. Her multihued word webs link a plethora of historical and literary elements whose allusions will escape most listeners. She shifts constantly between the literal and metaphorical, and between differing viewpoints, to keep you off-balance as you wend your way down the tricky, twisted path of Tori wordplay. Despite it all, you’re drawn to the lyrics by their very impenetrability, challenged to decipher the puzzle, to scratch the surface of words seemingly stitched together at random, to grasp at shreds of meaning and connection. With such word alchemy, she can conjure up disparate, even conflicting themes and images in one stroke, as in the following juxtaposition of sex, violence and piety (and on another level, historical commentary) in Crazy: “I let Crazy settle in / Kicked off my shoes / Shut reason out / He said, ‘first let’s just unzip your religion down’ ”, the last sung by a heavenly, vaporescent chorus.
In the end, the experience of her songs becomes richer for all the work put in. You may as well ask for the moon if you hope to arrive at full understanding of her obscurantist poetry, but the surplus of sonic treasures to be enjoyed just for their musical merits alone is more than sufficient reward for most. And thanks to sophisticated songsmithing, flawless performances, and just the right touch of humanity supplied by Tori’s heartfelt singing, these aren’t likely to grow old too soon.
The music’s velvety attractiveness might mask the quietly scathing undertone of some words, but Tori prefers to adopt a whisper to say her piece, not unlike her soft-spoken speech in interviews. I rather think her understated approach to delivering her message to be more effective than one exploding with bluster and outrage. So the music first seduces instead of alienates, and thence the lyrics are given a chance to do their work. It might sound totally flaky, but something spiritual occurs on listening closely to Scarlet’s Walk. For one thing, a mesmerizing, hymnlike air is evoked on the slower tracks.
Tori has not been forgiven by a few fans expecting more of the pain-filled (melo)drama faerie queen of yesteryear, with the odd mention of “selling out” thrown in. Melodiousness and accessibility--that is, the lack of numbingly reiterative verses, and of take-no-prisoners adventures into the sonic wilds--seem to offend a certain segment of her listeners. Nothing wrong with tunes fashioned to follow the dictates of musicality according to Tori’s own instincts at the time, especially if the end product turns out to be, well, a thing of exquisite beauty. Tori has always followed her own muse when creating music, whether wild, wonderful, or both, with the hordes following her faithfully to the cliff’s edge. How else to explain her platinum-selling albums despite the near-total absence of her “girls” (as she likes to refer to her songs) on commercial radio? No, methinks that Tori simply finds herself at a more relaxed and stable point now. Trendsetting might be in Tori’s blood, but trend-following? Hardly. (For authentic examples of selling out, see ex-indie rock darling Liz Phair’s latest, eponymous release.)
Well, despite all the forgoing, this review still feels pitifully inadequate to the task at hand. I do wish to say, Thank you, Tori, for staying true to yourself, and for trying to keep us all honest in these troubled times. That you do so with such grace and genius is just par for the course. A triumphant Bravissima! to you!
[Note: As I write this, Tori has since released a “musical autobiography” of selected, reworked tracks from her 10-year output: Tales of a Librarian: A Tori Amos Collection, soon to arrive at my doorstep. Anyone ready to post an op on that one yet?]
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Official Album Notes:
Personnel: Tori Amos (vocals, Boesendorfer piano, Wurlitzer piano, Fender Rhodes piano, ARP synthesizer); Robbie McIntosh (acoustic & electric guitars, dobro); David Torn (acoustic & electric guitars, loops); Mac Aladdin (acoustic & electric guitars); Sinfonia Of London (strings); John Philip Shenale (flute); David Jon Evans (bass); Matt Chamberlain (drums).
Recorded at Martian Engineering, Cornwall, England and Sony Music Studios, London, England.
TORI AMOS Scarlet’s Walk 2002
Amber Waves 3:41 A Sorta Fairytale 5:29 Wednesday 2:30 Strange 3:06 Carbon 4:34 Crazy 4:25 Wampum Prayer 0:48 Don't Make Me Come to Vegas 4:51 Sweet Sangria 4:02 Your Cloud 4:31 Pancake 3:54 I Can't See New York 7:16 Mrs. Jesus 3:06 Taxi Ride 4:01 Another Girl's Paradise 3:36 Scarlet's Walk 4:18 Virginia 3:56 Gold Dust 5:57
£10.99 is Amazon.co.uk’s lowest listed selling price for the album.
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Outstanding
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Outstanding
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Scarlet's Walk - Tori Amos
Scarlet's Walk is perhaps Tori Amos's most intimate album since Little Earthquakes. There
... more
are certainly similarities between the two. Thematically, she's still seeking freedom from the brutalising constraints of religion, and deftly mixing biblical and...
Scarlet's Walk -
Scarlet's Walkis perhaps Tori Amos's most intimate album sinceLittle Earthquakes. There
... more
are certainly similarities between the two. Thematically, she's still seeking freedom from the brutalising constraints of religion, and deftly mixing biblical and p...
