Ocean to Ocean by Tori Amos | Album Review
Amos’s 16th is an inspired look at a divided world in quarantine and returns the artist to her beginnings.
Amos has stated in interviews that she had a completely different record in mind before the shut down in England:
“Amos had a difficult pandemic; holed up in Cornwall, she hit a place of personal crisis familiar to anyone who suffered during the third UK lockdown — the one in winter, that seemed to go on forever… Against all odds, that crisis resulted in Ocean to Ocean, Amos’s most personal work in years — an album bursting with warmth and connection, with deep roots in her earliest song writing. She descended to an emotional state lower than she had been to for a long time — but the depths became creative, forcing a return to the kind of introspection she recognised from her debut album Little Earthquakes. ‘This is a record about your losses, and how you cope with them,’ she says. ‘Thankfully when you’ve lived long enough, you can recognise you’re not feeling like the mom you want to be, the wife you want to be, the artist you want to be. I realised that to shift this, you have to write from the place where you are. I was in my own private hell, so I told myself, then that’s where you write from — you’ve done it before…’”
While in quarantine, she was able to get long-time collaborators John Evans (on bass) and Matt Chamberlain (on drums) to add their magic to the project. What has come from this introspective place is one of Amos’s most sonically full and satisfying albums in a decade. Consisting of only 11 tracks, Tori has gone for quality over quantity, and it has really paid off.
The opening track, “Addition of Light Divided,” was inspired by her niece’s isolation and depression back in New York. This division, both geographically and politically (when speaking of the political climate of the States), has worn her down emotionally, “She said, “I am hurt”/ Love is lost and frozen/ Pray that I don’t stay/ Feeling broken.”
Amos aims to break the clouds of fear to bring light back into her world. The universal theme to this is not to let the mire consume you but instead reach for the light to guide you back to the land of hope, “Let the light break through/ You don’t need to stay broken/ Break this chain of pain/ You don’t want to stay broken.” Amos’s daughter does show up here, but only in the song’s backing vocals.
As Tori’s range has lowered slightly with age, Tash can add some nice brightness in her higher register. I also love how these backing vocals mixed with the instrumentation call back to Little Earthquakes in its subtlety.
We were first introduced to Ocean to Ocean through the lead single “Speaking with Trees.” Here, Tori allows herself a space alone to grieve. She allows herself a place to visit her mother, who passed in 2019, in this treehouse as a form of solace, “Speaking with trees/ Speaking of my grief/ Speaking with trees/ I’m almost sure/ That they are grieving/ With me.”
Amos could not visit her home in Florida during the quarantine, where her mother’s ashes are. In turn, the chorus shows her not ready yet to move past the mourning process over her mother’s passing, “When you left
Emptiness/ Since you left/ I’ve been hiding your ashes/ Under the tree house/ Don’t be surprised/ I cannot let you go.”
“Devil’s Bane” brings in a southwestern vibe. This is yet another gem on the record. I quite like the interplay between rich western acoustic guitar and Amos’s Wurlitzer and B3. This Americana-based sound brings me back to the richness of Scarlet’s Walk. Tori here seems to have lost herself in the bottle to mask her sadness. The consequences of this medication seem to have darkened all aspects of her life, “Yes, I have drunk/ From that Devil’s Bane/ And I barely survived/ Barely got out with my life.” Coming from the depressive state of quarantine, I can see some turning to alcohol to numb the many arguments, hardships, and worries that may have come up in such an insular time.
“Swim to New York State” is a dedication to her niece, who’s an ocean away in New York. She casts such a large net of love and appreciation for her here. Through this isolation, she has gained a deeper understanding of her niece’s struggles, “You gave everything (you gave the love)/ You made the difference you gave (you gave the love)/ You gave everything (you gave the love)/ While I was looking away (you gave and you gave).” The song would easily marry well alongside songs off Little Earthquakes. The guitars and synth strings bring to mind the sounds of the 90s. This does not cheapen Amos’s sound but gives the song a beautiful halo of warmth around it as you listen. Vocally, Amos also sounds lovely. Her voice has changed with age, but her breathy delivery has brought a gentle familiarity.
Tori stated that “Spies” was a lullaby for her now-adult daughter. The song stands out as the most different on the entire album. A cute rushing motion of the song brings to mind quick shots of the bats that scared her daughter acting as covert spies keeping the night safe, “Knowing this may help you make/ Make it through the night/ On lullabies/ Knowing this may help you to/ Open up your eyes/ Spies.” I do enjoy the many mixes of synth strings, horns, Rhodes, marxophone, and other oddities. My issue is it’s six-minute run length. I think the song could have easily been trimmed down to four minutes.
Calling back to some of the sentiments of “Up the Creek” off her last album, “Ocean to Ocean” goes from alarm to an almost horrified sense of resignation over what is to come from the continued changing climate. It’s a mournful sense of urgency in her words, “Ocean to ocean, queen of the sea/ Warning of these needless killings/ Stay with me until we/ Unravel this fishing net.” You feel a powerlessness in her resolve to continue to push for change. The anger pours thicks from the chorus, “There are those who don’t give a goddamn/ That we’re near mass extinction/ There are those who never give a goddamn/ For anything that they are breaking/ There are those who only give a goddamn/ For the profit that they’re making,” not only over the environment but bleeds into the political and social climate as well. It’s a darker Rhodes and piano-washed sort of adult contemporary track.
Compared to similar songs off of Native Invaders, this song has much better production all around. Amos’s vocals sound full and rich, and every aspect of the instrumentation sounds beautifully organic.
“Flowers Burn to Gold” is a touching view of seeing her mother through various aspects of the world around her. The threads of her mother’s spirit run through each of the verses; be it in the clouds in the Midwest, a cliff in the Southwest, or the sense of an angel, all these bring back the essence of her mother by noting, “She had the kindest eye.”
In these moments, she remembers a conversation with her mother. In this, you get that life is not fully lost but transmuted into the world around you, “You told me once/ Gardens, yes, they know/ Death is not the end and/ Flowers burn to gold.” It’s a notion I find very soothing and beautiful. This is simple piano and vocal track. The piano melody gently walks us downwards as Amos pays tribute to her late mother. I do wish Tori’s vocals were a bit stronger here, but weakness adds a sense of vulnerability to her words.
Tori has stated that “Metal Water Wood” was the first song she wrote while making this album. The idea of water calls back the essence of songs like “Pandora’s Aquarium” that Amos used to gather strength after suffering another loss (this is in reference to her miscarriage in 1996).
This connection is ever more clear in the line, “‘Be like water’/ You tell me, ‘Be like water’” that feels very reminiscent of “Pandora’s Aquarium’s” lines “Ripples come and ripples go/ Then ripple back to me, come on/ Back to me.”
This idea of being fluid connects the two, but here Tori wishes to find that fluidity and use it to flow through a trying time, “Metal, water, wood/ Metal, water, wood/ How to be like water?/ Show me how to be like water/ Metal, water, wood.” I like the jaunty, arpeggiated guitar explosion that lights up the chorus. Amos’s softer vocal delivery works well against the thunderous, almost tribal sound of Chamberlain’s drums.
It’s as if she’s breaking through the clouds to find clarity in these trying times.
“29 Years” calls back to Little Earthquakes — specifically to her heart-wrenchingly candid song about her sexual assault, “Me and a Gun.” Sonically, you get a nod to the alternative rock-driven sounds of some of her earliest songs, like “Precious Things” or “Crucify.” Amos adds a sense of levity with the backing of her B3 alongside her piano. Now, 29 years later, she looks back at the moment to see how she’s been searching for that strength since she broke free of the pain that this most violent of violations caused her.
The song gives her a space to both look back on the anger she held and, finally, the place of closure she has now, “These victim tears/ A song from my past/ To twenty nine years/ Yes, we are free at last/ We can unlash/ Ourselves from that mast/ After twenty nine years.” I love this pseudo-nostalgic sound that Tori toys with. It sounds fresh yet wonderfully familiar.
“How Glass is Made” garners back to some of the emotions drawn up on Native Invaders in songs like “Bang.” Sonically, this song feels more along the line of Unrepentant Geraldine’s from its lightness. That said, I think that has more depth vocally and instrumentally. Amos even brings in the Mellotron to add flutes add brightness to the song. She looks at the fragility of her mental state after seething divisive rhetorics have permeated her social circle. In some subtle ways, it calls back to “Little Earthquakes” around turbulence it draws up, “We did not wear/ Velvet gloves/ When we chose to expose our hearts/ In a year of earthquakes and those aftershocks/ We learned how glass can break/ Yes, we learned how glass can break/ Glass can break.” What’s clear is vocal daggers of words have shown Tori that emotional warfare leaves cracks much deeper than some physical cuts. It’s a lovely song, just not my favorite on the album.
“Birthday Baby” is a perfect closer for the album. We have returned after suffering loss, grief, and despair. Amos has gained back her resolution and, in a sense, is reborn a stronger version of herself in the process. It’s an affirmation to find inner strength in your determination is at its lowest, “Happy birthday to you/ There is a gift I can give you/ Sometimes in life a girl must tango alone/ Don’t be afraid to tango alone/ Happy birthday, happy birthday/ Birthday, baby.”
Tori takes an almost Bond-like tone to the song. John Evan’s bass has a thickness that brings back the early 80s. I rather enjoy the playful nature Amos takes on this song. It’s a “pour yourself a glass of wine and celebrate alone if you must” sort of number. In a time of seclusion, sometimes you have to make your own happiness to keep your happiness.
This has to be one of the best projects Amos has put out since Night of Hunters in 2010. Everything feels quite inspired, full, and realized. I am so happy to hear Tori’s vocals sound so rich compared to the panned vocal styling she was toying with on her past two projects. Her vocal range may have dropped since her debut, but she has done a beautiful job finding a new home for her voice.
Amos’s daughter Tash is a welcome addition, bringing in some higher ranges that so vividly bring to mind the backing vocals Tori would have added on her first few projects.
I was unsure of the many comparisons to Little Earthquakes with this album, but after listening to it from front to back, I get it. The rich sound Evans, Chamberlain, and gang add, alongside Tori’s very personal lyrical material, bring you back to this time period effortlessly. I love the record and highly recommend it to both dedicated and casual fans of her work.
My overall thoughts on the album:
Loved it: “Addition of Light Divided,” “Speaking with Trees,” “Devil’s Bane,” “Swim to New York State,” “Ocean to Ocean,” “Metal Water Wood,” “29 Years,” “Birthday Baby.”
Liked it: “Spies,” “Flowers Burn to Gold,” “How Glass is Made.”
Disliked it: None
My overall rating: 8.5 out of 10.
