Strange Little Girls - Tori Amos > Reviews > Mining Gold

Author's product rating:   

Originality	Definitely a cut above the rest
Lyrics	Thought-provoking
Quality and consistency of tracks	A couple of weak links
How does it compare to the artist's other releases	Good
Value for Money	Good

Advantages:	A vibrant re - expression of old songs
Disadvantages:	A drastic re - hash of old songs?

Recommend to potential buyers:

yes

Full review

Tori's musical evolution has been an interesting one. Early albums were somewhat idiosyncratic affairs, growing more and more deliciously wayward with each one. Following the success of the crashing, experimental and offbeat "To Venus and Back" in 1999, she seemed in the mood once more to push the boat out. It's a musical style that suits her.

So, in 2001, she served up an eclectic score of cover versions, all originally performed and written by men. Amos features in many different guise on the CD cover, hinting that this will be a varied musical outing indeed. In each of the covers, she stamps the unique Amos identity. Some of the songs here are merely tinkered with; others undergo a complete transformation! Amos is certainly no stranger to cover versions - and has always had a particular penchant for rock numbers.

She starts in fine form with a growling rendition of Lou Reed's "New Age", with crashing drums, distorted vocals and a wandering shrieking baseline. It's immediately obvious that she is pushing the boat out with this album.

Moving on to Eminem's "97 Bonnie and Clyde", her whispered-spoken vocals marry intensely, and successfully, to the murderous theme. She sounds twisted, creepy, a freak - and I love that! Her disregard for convention and mediocrity shines through loud and clear.

"Strange Little Girl" is a slightly more rocked-up version of The Strangler's eighties hit, which nevertheless maintains its mysterious identity pretty much intact.

Depeche Mode's "Enjoy the Silence" is stripped down to a low piano and croaking vocals. Tori brings a welcome personal touch, illuminating Martin Gore's powerful song writing and teasing out its thoughtful and reflective side.

Sloppy, conformist 10CC ballad "I'm Not in Love" is given a warped, frightening treatment, knowingly infused with malice and darkness. Its dopey lyrics are twisted into something weird and grotesque. The low booming and metallic echoing is used to great effect, and there's something undeniably funny about the whole thing too. Mocking, grim and perverse, this is the most complete transformation of any song on the album. And, for my money, the best.

"Rattlesnakes" rises up from the blackness - a thrumming and atmospheric rendition of Lloyd Cole's classic. It holds up well, but doesn't quite rise to greatness.

Tom Waits' "Time" becomes subject to Amos' piano and vocal treatment: a sad and moving, but beautifully poignant, tribute to Waits' awesome song-writing skills.

Gentle-old-cowboy number "Heart of Gold" is metamorphosed into a wild, freaky affair, with shrieking guitar and distorted howling vocals. Again, she works a complete and utter make-over of a quiet and subdued song, pumps it full of malice, raises it to fever pitch and whacks it out, transformed. Wow!

Next, The Boomtown Rats' "I Don't Like Mondays" is given exactly the opposite treatment: shrunk down and placed in the tiny realm of a reverberating music box; Tori's vocals dwindle to gentle girlishness, showing a gentle and vulnerable side to Bob Geldof's old rock number.

An epic stretching over ten minutes, "Happiness is Warm Gun" sees Tori's shrieking moaning voice compete with clips of political figures (including the unmistakeable voice of George Dubya Bush - he's in there somewhere). Slightly overlong, demanding and uncompromising, this is one you would probably not choose to play to your Mum!

"Happiness..." wobbles, pulsates and fades into obscurity - though compellingly. The mood descends, as black as pitch, into "Raining Blood". Slayer's classic finds horrifying new expression in amongst Amos' tortured low moaning and grim piano chords. It's an awesome and disturbing piece, brought out persuasively, but leaving the listener (this listener, anyway) with irrepressible shivers.

Thankfully, the final track emerges into the light - a graceful, flowing version of Joe Jackson's "Real Men", with lashings of Amos piano virtuosity. A statement of sexual liberation, it shines out through Tori's piano virtuosity and brings the album to an understated but warm close.

A singer who sounds most compelling when she is at her most warped, Tori triumphs with "Strange Little Girls". She sounds, at times, furious and anti-establishment, a trait which she uses to enormously powerful effect. The anger flows out of some of these tracks, sizzling in its energy.

I understand - and yet in another sense do not understand - the constant comparisons with Kate Bush that have dogged Tori for years. I enjoy both artists in their different ways. Any similarities seem, to me, quite superficial. That's especially true of this album. At its best, it dazzles, but there are moments of strain, at which times the listener might feel she has taken things too far. Hence, four stars instead of five!

Non-conformist, daring and innovative, "Strange Little Girls" reveals Tori as an eccentric and wayward genius. Her choice of material here is superb - and above all, she excels in mining gold out of all of them. It won't suit all tastes by any means, particularly when she has remoulded songs out of recognition. But, approach with an open mind and you will come to regard this as one of her finest works. Quintessential Amos with more than just a touch of kook: what more could I ask?