I’ve been secretly in love with Tori Amos for more than 10 years. It started the first time I heard “China” (Little Earthquakes, 1991). She pauses—… breath…—then resumes with a whisper-like, soft and altogether unique voice that still gives me chills. It continued through the harsher Boys for Pele with “In the Springtime of his Voodoo” and then with “She’s your Cocaine” on From the Choirgirl Hotel. This is when our relationship started to get wierd. Her next couple of records seemed flat and uneventful. We just didn’t seem to know each other any more. Maybe I wasn’t paying enough attention to her in those days. Fickle, she was. Well, her new release, The Beekeeper, has brought us closer than ever. She has calmed a bit with age it seems. Haven’t we all? Some will criticize the seemingly adult contemporary feel to this latest effort. Ignore them. It’s beautiful, my dear. Welcome back.
For the record and with much disappointment I must admit that in real life Tori and I would last about 20 minutes before I bored her to death or she drove me nuts. Bet I’d love the first 19 though.
Hand me my leather.