Nov 4, 2022
You’ve Never Seen the Fire Til You’ve Seen Pele Blow | Amos’s Third Outing Is a Baroque Alt Masterpiece on Taking Back Your Fire.
You could hear chimes of what was to come from her 1995 contributions to the Higher Learning soundtrack. There is a taste of horns and more abstract songwriting on “Butterfly” that would be much more prominent on her third album. After a hard breakup and some self-reflecting on her life, Amos wanted to take back all the energy she had been giving out to the men in her life:
“My relationship, which lasted for seven and a half years, broke. And that’s what started the whole thing. After that, I had a few experiences with men, but I got from the frying pan into the fire. That time was not very glorious. All the fame, the money, all those boys in the locker room weren’t enough to fill an emptiness inside of me. I was being attracted by men who possessed the fire, the passion, of which I thought I didn’t have it. And I had something they wanted: my creativity, my power of creating. I was run by an engine. I had to learn that I had to create some kinda space inside myself where I could not only light my fire, but also let it burn, without needing the confirmation of the men in my life.”
In reclaiming her fire, she dreaded down the bloodline of the piano to the harpsichord. In her EPK for the album, Amos said she felt the instrument saying, “They’ve got me all wrong, honey.” What came from this project, partially recorded in a church in Ireland and partially recorded in New Orleans, is a baroque pop/alt-rock smash unlike anything prior. You get horns, strings, clavichords, harpsichords, and textures like an old well-read novel.
The album opens with the desolate sounds of “Beauty Queen.” Played on only one piano key, you get the image of a once beautiful woman reduced to trash thrown out in the street. She ends is the prelude to the album with the lines, “Can’t figure what it is, but…/ I lie, lie, lie again”, which feels like hiding these feelings to appease others.
This dark tone immediately opens up on“Horses.” These horses ride Amos away from this darkness that threatens her. Tori uses a Leslie cabinet, which has a rotating speaker that creates a spinning sound to the instrument being amplified, which gives a sort of fragile daydreamy nature to the more fantastical portions of the song. We also get a nod to Neil Gaiman and his inspiration for Delirium from The Sandman series, “But will you find me if Neil makes me a tree.”
“Blood Roses” brings in the harpsichord. She bites in both her lyrics and playing style. She’s visceral about how she once felt in her prior relationships, “Now you’ve cut out the flute/ From the throat of the loon/ At least when you cry now/ He can’t even hear you.”
The whole song reads of disgust. She’s shaved everywhere he’s been just to be rid of him in all ways possible. She comes somewhat unhinged at the end, both vocally and on the harpsichord. You see chickens picking at her corpse, the corpse of who she once was. We end on the notion that sometimes you’re nothing but a hunk of meat to the other person. It’s a powerful song and is an understandable fan favorite.
“Father Lucifer” has a light-hearted bouncy to its darker title, like taunting it. On the inspiration for the track, Tori told the Baltimore Sun:
“‘Father Lucifer’ is about needing to go to the space of shadow, to go where we hide. Not Satanism. A whole different plane.”
One of the best parts of the song is the bridge that really adds levity. Despite being in darkness and greeting it, she’s not here to stay. I love this song and the reinvention she did for the Dew Drop Inn tour (adding “Tubular Bells” and “Smalltown Boy” to the mix).
The most caustic track on the album is “Professional Widow.” It steps on you in high heels and commands you to submit. Amos herself said it’s her play off her wanting overbearing power in the relationship:
“I was going, “Oh, I wanna see him crawl.” And letting that be there. Wearing a really cute fuzzy pink shoe. And having no limitation of exploring certain facets of the personality. And being shocked and horrified about “Professional Widow,” and then loving her — just loving the fact that she’s convincing him to kill himself, guaranteeing that Mother Mary will supply. And I said, you really can’t get any lower than that. I love the fact that she said, “This is how far I’ve gone — this is where I am at this moment. Are you willing to see that part of yourself? The part that wants his energy, that wants his fame, that wants his light — not recognizing your own.” It gets to the point where you don’t even have to push him over the edge — you’re just reading him poetry, and that’s enough to make him want to kill himself.”
If a harpsichord could sound metal, I think this is the closest you can get. She even gives a twisted piano intermission in it, like a vice promising all the things you’ve ever wanted. There could be a second, more pointed, target to the song, Courtney Love.
She is the reason why Trent Reznor says his and Tori’s relationship faltered. With lines like “honey bring it close to my lips/ don’t blow those brains yet,” “starfucker just like my Daddy,” and “Mother Mary/ china white” (a nod to heroin) it’s easy to line up Love as the “Professional Widow.”
Regardless of meaning, the power and sheer unfettered need for power make for a captivating song. The remix, by Armand van Helden, would give Tori her first #1 on the Billboard dance charts.
The next intermission, “Mr. Zebra,” begins to bring us out of the darkness and into a more solemn and introspective section of the album. The short, almost 40s-inspired track brings in horns to along with Tori’s piano to add a novel-like feeling to the song. It gives little gestures to her past relationship and toxic behavior with words like “Strychnine.” You end on a sort of melancholy note with the line, “too bad the burial was premature she said
and smiled,” which could either refer to the death of her relationship or her past self.
“Marianne” is an ode to a childhood friend of Tori’s who committed suicide. Though the lyrics can sometimes be a little obtuse, there’s a clear ache around this still for her. John Philip Shenale provides a beautiful string arrangement that swells and chases throughout the song.
“Caught a Lite Sneeze” refers to a person who may think they’re the best you’ll ever have, but in Tori’s own words, “they’re not the flu, they’re just an achoo.” The harpsichord again takes the forefront on the song. I love the more airy delivery of the song’s vocals. Her backing vocals, recorded in a church in Delgany, feel like an ancient siren song. There’s a little poke at Nine Inch Nails, “caught a lite sneeze/ dreamed a little dream/ made my own pretty hate machine,” which could be a dig at Reznor or just a reference to the darker tone of that project. (Note: She often sang bits of “Hurt” by Nine Inch Nails with this track live in 1996 and 1998).
“Muhammad My Friend” is probably the most esoteric track on the album. The song dives more into the female archetype from biblical texts and shakes you to let you know you’ve got it all wrong. We also get a call out to the central theme of a woman’s fire, “and Moses I know/ I know you’ve seen fire/ but you’ve never seen fire/ until you’ve seen Pele blow.” Lyrically, we’re at our densest. I still struggle to wrap my head around everything hear, but the overall notion is one I appreciate. She would bring in friend and Tool frontman Maynard James Keenan to sing with her on the track for her RAINN benefit concert in 1997.
“Hey Jupiter” is a quiet subdued song. Only Tori’s vocals, piano, and Steve Canton’s spacey guitar give shape to the landscape.
Here, she is on her knees, trying to put the pieces of her relationship back together:
“‘Hey Jupiter’ was especially hard. I’d made 13 calls from all over the world. I was getting ready to catch a plane from Phoenix to do the Vegas show, and I rang his [Eric Rosse’s] number again, but no one was picking up. And in that moment…I was lying there alone, feeling incredibly weak. Feeling like there are not enough sold-out shows… the rest of the time I’m just this shell. So, when I wrote “Hey Jupiter,” it was like, how could we have been so cruel? Because when we started out, there was so much love. Real caring. And I sit here hating someone who I had been head over heels in love with.”
In her own words, she’s “this little masochist,” knowing it’s over but still trying to do anything to make it work. Through all the fighting and heartache, by the end of the song, she finally admits it’s all over. While it’s a beautifully soft song, like a whisper through tears, the remixed Dakota Version is my personal favorite. The added harmonium and drum track from “Sugar” bring a whole new life to the song.
The second intermission, “Way Down,” brings us to the more southern U.S. and gospel-inspired section of the album. She’s on the other side of the aftermath. You get a call out to dine with Son of Sam, which casts visions of her being the murderer of her own relationship. There is also something spiritual about this death. The gospel choir adds to this.
“Little Amsterdam” has a southern bend to it. Like many of the songs on the album, it feels like more like the air of a threat. The threat here seems to be destroying another relationship, “Don’t take me back to the Range, back to the Range/ I’m just comin’ out of the cell in my brain.” I love the overall rocking chair, threatening southern overtone the song carries. I just wish the clavichord in the song’s bridge was brought up a bit more. For being such a quiet instrument, it gets a little buried in the mix.
If baroque went to the south, you’d get “Talula.” Again, the harpsichord is at the forefront. There’s a more jovial nature here. It’s a reclaiming of herself again:
“In ‘Talula,’ I’m begging this concept of the ideal woman to come alive in myself, feeling afraid of losing someone. If it matters, it must be something worth losing. Each song began to be a piece of claiming myself.”
She sounds more self-reflective in the song’s chorus, “Talula, Talula/ I don’t want to lose it/ it must be worth losing/ if it is worth something.” You also get gestures to Anne Boleyn, which bring back the death of a relationship metaphor from past songs. The bridge really kicks in the groove, especially on the Twister soundtrack remix (The Tornado Version). She can finally let down her hair and let loose. It’s a really fun song.
“Not the Red Baron” ends this little section as Tori begins to shed her disdain towards men and sees similarities in how their heartbreaks have gone:
“‘Not the Red Baron’ was a B-side, but really got, she slipped in there. She slipped in and kicked another one off because… it was a compassion for the men. [It] holds so much compassion for the boys for me because as they’re going down in their planes, and they’re crashing… At that point, I didn’t want to kick ’em in the nuts anymore. And there was nothing I could do, ’cause I was going through mine, and they were going through theirs, and sometimes all you can do is just pat them on the head and give them a Guinness. And I saw these lovely women ushering the men with the tears to their next place. Always connected to fire, always all of us trying to find our own fire.”
You get a strong visual from the lyrics, “Not the Red Baron/ Not Charlie Brown/ think I got the message figured/ another pilot down.” There’s a tragic beauty to the song. You get additional audio samples of pilots that flow throughout the piece. I’m she salvaged this one from being a b-side. It feels like watching someone crash and burn only to pull them from the wreckage and salvage them the best you can.
The last intermission, “Agent Orange,” is simple piano and vocal track. The little diddy is more tongue in cheek about this macho suntanned muscle man who seems to be a bit full of himself. It’s cute but doesn’t quite match the more melancholic tones to follow. I seem to skip this one on every listen.
“Doughnut Song” is the last song written for the album. Tori’s vocals are their most breathy, using quite a bit of her upper register. It’s bittersweet. She’s noticing that they're past the point of return, especially in the backing vocals, “ you can tell me it’s over/ it’s over…/ you can tell me it’s over, it’s over/ come in Houston.” Canton’s “Ha-Ha guitar” gives off a swirling sensation. This song is less bitter and more sullen. It’s one of my personal favorites on the record from the overall structure.
Our last real groove on the album is “In the Springtime of His Voodoo.” You get a full little warm-up on the piano from Tori in the song’s first minute before landing on the groove. It’s a power shift; Amos is now one catcalling the men:
“This is me realizing how I would hear men talk to women when I was growing up, catcalling: ‘Can I watch you walk?’ It’s the reverse of that, really.”
With lyrics like, “got an angry snatch/ girls you know what I mean/ when swivelin’ that hip doesn’t do the trick,” it definitely shows she’s sexually frustrated. This is also our last time with the harpsichord on the album. The single adds a funky remixed take, the Hasbrouck Heights Mix, which has a bit more of a house feel.
“Putting the Damage On” is one of the most beautiful songs on the album. The Black Dyke Band puts on a stunning brass performance that leaves you frozen in your tracks. This is Amos's most wistful feeling around her ex and past relationship.
Through all the arguments and issues, she still sees what brought her to her ex [Eric Rosse] in the first place, “but I’ve got a place to go/ I’ve got a ticket to your late show/ and now I’m worrying cause even still/ you sure are pretty/ when you’re putting the damage on.” It’s a glorious tender look back at a past relationship.
The album ends quietly with “Twinkle.” It’s sort of a strength-building point after all the destruction, “but I know a girl/ twice as hard../ said I’m sure she’s watching it, too/ said no matter what tie she’s got in her right dresser
tied/ I know she’s watching that star”. The second verse feels like a call back to how she destroyed her relationships and finally recovered her inner strength from all the anger and self-hatred. This is a song I have begun to enjoy more after numerous listens, but I think it’s still one of my least favorites on the record.
This is Tori at her most visceral. She makes heartbreak feel as wretched and brutal as it seems. The album can be a bit long, at just over an hour and ten minutes. That said, I find little in the way of faults with it.
Sure some songs can be a bit too abstract, “Muhammad My Friend,” “Agent Orange,” and “Twinkle,” but they all feel cohesive. Also, only Amos could make harpsichords and baroque sounds feel alternative and heavy. There is a reason why so many fans want a return to this sound and feel. It’s unlike anything else. That’s also why it went platinum. This is totally worth a listen front to back.
My favorite tracks:
- “Blood Roses”
- “Professional Widow”
- “Caught a Lite Sneeze”
- “Hey Jupiter”
- “Doughnut Song”
- “Putting the Damage On”
My overall rating: 9 out of 10.
(Special thanks to toriphoria for their many different interview clips/segments around the songs I sourced below)
Sources:
