10/10 -- 10/14:

The changeds made to Blogger made last week's post come out all jumbled. I caught it this week.

Tori Amos, Night of Hunters 

Tori Amos and I came together in about the oddest way possible. I saw a couple seconds of the video for her single “God” on a commercial on MTV, and it seemed cool. I assume it said her name, it must have. Then I saw her in one of those ads for Columbia House or BMG, and filed that away. “Tori Amos.” I’m gonna check her out some day. I had a memory like a steel trap as a young man, and it served me well, in this instance. Then a visit to an old friend in Florida revealed she had Tori’s first album, Little Earthquakes, and dubbed it to a cassette for me (ask you parents what a “cassette” is). This act of terrible, terrible music piracy was the beginning of me spending an obscene amount of money on Tori Amos albums, rare import singles, books, video cassettes (ask them!) and DVDs. Tori made her bones on shockingly honest, confessional songs of the type that an angsty teenager could really latch on to. But you can’t just keep reading people the same pages of your diary, and over the years, her work became more abstract. Abstraction gave way to full-blown concept albums... some more successful than others. So, now, Night of Hunters. It’s got maybe the most baffling, intricate concept yet. It’s got her daughter (Already 11, somehow, my goodness) singing on about half songs as different characters and her niece singing on one. It’s an entirely acoustic “21st century song cycle” comprised of compositions inspired by classical works by the likes of Bach, Chopin, Mendelssohn, and Schubert. It’s got all kinds of baggage. But it works surprisingly well. There’s maybe a bit too much of the kids. Not because they’re bad, but just because this is a Tori Amos album, not Tori and the Family Amos. But between the acoustic rule, featuring Tori on piano and a small assortment of string players, and the challenge of working from classics, this album actually pushes Tori to really focus on her vocals and piano playing in a way she hasn’t in a long, long time. Much like Midwinter Graces, her strange and satisfying "Holiday" album from 2009, it keeps her out of what has become her comfort zone, and it really seems to bring out the best in her. And clocking in at 14 tracks, it feels positively short compared to her other 21st century work. She came to the decision somewhere along the line that all those b-sides and rarities her fans hunt for should just be on the album, and as a result, her records could become endurance challenges. Night of Hunters doesn’t wear out its welcome. Which isn’t to say it’s perfect. It may have fewer songs, but two of them approach ten minutes, and as mentioned above, the kids can feel a little intrusive. The sing-songy title phrase of “Cactus Practice” being repeated so often would get old anyway, but having Natasha alternate in and out of it makes it a little twee, frankly. Natasha has a surprisingly rich voice, especially for being so young, but I don’t think it meshes too well with her mother’s for a duet. Natasha’s voice is more in the Adele mode, smokey, a little rough around the edges, while Tori’s is as ethereal as ever. It’s not the electric thrill of putting on from the choirgirl hotel for the first time, or going to Best Buy with Dawn to pick up copies of Strange Little Girls, but digging into Night of Hunters is still a fun experience. After all these years, Tori is still producing music that I find engaging, and I am glad. 

Tori Amos, “Shattering Sea” 

Opeth, Heritage 

A newer addition to my personal catalog than Tori Amos, Opeth quickly shot to prominence. I was turned onto them right before their “breakthrough” album, Blackwater Park. It may have brought them more fame than ever, but it was already their 5th album. I had homework to do. Opeth immediately caught my ear due to the immense variety in their work. Their music often switches from grinding death metal to baroque acoustic passages and back again in the course of a single song. Their songs owe more to classical music and prog rock than pop or rock tradition, usually eschewing verse/chorus/verse structure for more adventurous songs that unfold their movements like a symphony. They’re a band that can give me the adrenaline rush of metal and the moving beauty of Nick Drake in a single song. There’s nothing like them out there. The only constant throughout the years is singer/guitarist Mikael Akerfeldt. He’s the only remaining original member, and at this point, every other position has seen at least two people fill it. He has always been the principle songwriter, so the band has somehow managed to sound consistent throughout all the lineup changes. The lineup going into Heritage was perhaps the strongest Opeth ever, with Martin Mendez on bass (2nd-longest-serving member, having joined the band in 1997), Per Wieberg on keys (since 2004), the amazing Martin Axenrot on drums (2006) and Fredrick Akesson taking up guitar duties just in time to share leads and solos with Akerfeldt recording Watershed in 2007. Mikael has often joked that, going in to record the first Opeth album in 1995, he thought he was going to be a minstrel, playing a lute and singing ridiculously pretentious songs. Heritage, shockingly enough, seems to be as close as he’s gotten to getting his wish. Opeth has quietly stopped being a metal band. It still sounds like Opeth. The unique sound they’ve cultivated over the years is still identifiable. But in the prog rock influences, in some of the acoustic passages, and in the guitar solos. There’s no metal anything to be heard. I’ve listened to this over and over and I’m still not sure what I think of it, exactly. I’ve come to the decision the production bugs me more than the lack of metal, especially when it comes to drums. The bass drum sounds muffled and is actually hard to hear sometimes, and the rest of the drums sound pretty flat. But, beyond the production, there’s a sort of... over the top feeling to a lot of it. Almost like they’re trying too hard. I’m not sure what I’m even trying to say. It’s just so proggy and so noodly sometimes. Sometimes it’s not. They were wise to make “The Devil’s Orchard” the lead single, as it’s the most “Opeth sounding” song on the album. For the most part, I think I have favorite moments instead of songs. It’s a hard thing to adjust to. Mikael Akerfeldt has been doing this for 20 years. No one can be metal forver. You either evolve into something else or become an embarrassing cartoon of yourself like Ozzy. In the DVD accompanying this release, Mikael said he thought that going in this direction would mean he “still had something to offer.” He also said he wasn’t ruling out metal elements in the future, and that he hoped not to repeat Heritage on the next album. Who knows, their next one may win me right back over. Their 11th album is the first one that didn’t completely enthrall me. That’s still a pretty spectacular track record. And I’m going to keep listening... trying to figure it out... 

Opeth, “The Devil’s Orchard” 

Now, Now, Neighbors EP 

The band formerly known as Now, Now Every Children made a splash a few years ago and then disappeared. Turns out, theirs is age old story of label problems and contract disputes. But late last year, they began making a comeback from those unfortunate events with the Neighbors EP, and it basically picks up right where they left off. “Giants,” Roommates” and the title song are a bit more immediate than past songs, faster and more direct, but the dreamy atmosphere and cryptic lyrics are still in fine form. The slower, meandering “Jesus Camp” and the fragile opening instrumental “Rebuild” round out the album. Acoustic versions of “Giants” and “Neighbors” are also included. The EP is a fine reassurance that the band is still kicking, and I hope it’s followed by a longer work in the near future. 

Now, Now, “Neighbors” 

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. Nocturama 

When Nocturama came out in 2003, a friend of mine went crazy for it. A long-time Nick Cave fan like me, he told me Nick Cave was back! Coming as it did after 2001’s weirdly uncharacteristic, mopey No More Shall We Part and the also uncharacteristically calm The Boatman’s Call from 1997, this was big news, indeed. Turns out, though, my friend Scott got so (Justifiably) excited about the rock’n’roll frenzy of “Dead Man In My Bed” and the sprawling, 15-minute freakout “Babe, I’m On Fire” (An attempt, they band said to offend as many people as possible) that they made him temporarily forget the rest of the album he’d just listened to was another serving of mopey, decidedly down tempo ballads. Not to say that any of those albums are bad, per se. They just mark a weirdly quiet period in Cave’s otherwise bombastic, deranged career. But Nocturama was still a more engaging collection than its predecessor, and presaged something of a Renaissance on material to come. And, yeah, regardless of anything else, “Dead Man In My Bed” and “Babe, I’m On Fire” are a whole lot of fun. 

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, “Dead Man In My Bed” Yup. --D