A new edition of the Audio Biography. If you’re bored to tears at this point, tough nuts. We still have about 500 CDs to go. Calm down.

When I started this, I thought how much fun it would be. I’d go over my life CD by CD and remember what each disc meant to me, etc. There’s only one problem. I’m getting impatient. There’s stuff in the “B” section I want to hear, but I have to make it through “A”. Worse, I’m dying to get to certain “T” discs, but I know that won’t happen until about this time next year. Sigh.

I am looking forward to the “B” section. We’ll probably have two weeks of just Beach Boys and Beatles discs. That will be fun. Very fun. Though it will remind me that I still haven’t picked up the White Album on CD.

No more diversions. Let us get into the disks. We still have a few more days of Tori.

Tori Amos: God [CD-SINGLE]
I have to be honest. I don’t remember who picked this up, my wife or me. This disc was from a period between 1998 and 2000 where we listened to Tori almost non-stop. Me at my desk at work, she at hers. Or both of us at home.

This particular single contains some rather odd bits. The one that stands out the most is “Home on the Range.” What drove Tori to record this is beyond me. The song showcases her piano playing very well. However, Tori fools you. This is the Cherokee version of the song, which talks about how Jackson cuts deals and Cherokee women are left to die on the Trail of Tears. It’s a bittersweet song about a horrid pox on our national history that is, quite sadly, often ignored. Tori does her best to capture some of that horror, but it doesn’t quite work. An original melody may have worked better.

The other two songs aren’t all that exciting. Normally Tori Amos singles contain some real hidden gems. This one isn’t the case. The other two songs sound like a piano bar act. Short on wisdom, long on piano crescendos. For obvious reasons, my wife and I didn’t listen to this one much.

I looked at the cover quite a bit, though. Tori looks great. Almost like a slightly demonic Nancy Travis.

Tori Amos: Boys for Pele
Again, this one is technically my wife’s CD. But I’ve listened to it many times. And, I’m sad to say; I’ve never connected with it. There are plenty of plaintive wails, minor chords and bitter platitudes. I can hear the strokes of brilliance in the lyrics, and I enjoy the interesting instrumentals, but emotionally Tori goes straight past me and straight for my wife. I think this is a women’s CD. To me, the lyrics are an interesting, abstract, emotional tableau. To my wife it is the bible for any woman who has been marginalized, victimized, or any other –ized. It’s the musical version of Virginia Woolf’s “A Room of One’s Own.”

My testosterone-addled brain can’t hear this. I hear the music, I hear the lyrics and I enjoy the songs. But it doesn’t deal with an alienation I can understand. I’m not a woman and, even with surgery, I doubt I would ever feel the deep emotions of this disc. At times they are truly painful. But they don’t match up with my own emotions and experiences because, when I hear “Blood Roses” I think of red roses and try to ignore the true meaning of the lyrics. Women think of a dark day when something precious was taken from them. They are vile, painful images and I have a hard time accepting them. They are the David Lynch film of the musical world. And I love David Lynch. But Tori goes places that scare me in this CD. It’s too dark, even for me.

Does this make me a misogynist? Should I force myself to accept these examples of the types of debasement that many women are forced to endure? Do I have to confront some sort of Madonna/Whore complex that I have? Or do I find it so painful because when Tori is singing about having something stolen from her, it’s not her face I picture.

Maybe the pain that connects so well with women is a pain I have to ignore because I’m afraid of the women I love experiencing it? Or maybe I’m just a man. And some of these emotions just aren’t for me.

Tori Amos: Goddess
This one has no Amazon link because it is . . . a dreaded bootleg. One of our first in my collection (though many won’t be mentioned because they are Elvis Costello CDs, which I won’t be cataloguing . . . .too many).

I bought this disc for my wife as we were planning our wedding. I was at a local record shop whose selection moves between urbane and mundane. I came across this CD and felt I had to pick it up because I knew she’d love it. And she did. It contains a slew of on-air radio appearances in support of Boys for Pele. Most notably, however, is a bastardization of “Cornflake Girl” from Under the Pink, entitled “Gary’s Girl” (“I’m gonna be Gary’s girl . . .”). Clearly we had to figure out how to play this at the wedding. I mean, clearly, she WAS Gary’s Girl. Right?

Well, no. We never did play it at the wedding. That was silly.

This disc contains one true gem. Tori sings one of my favorite Bruce Springsteen songs, “Thunder Road.” I’ve always connected with that song. It’s a plea to hit the open road and forsake everything. However, when Tori sings it, it feels more like Mary’s song.

She sings it like this:

The screen door slams
Mary's dress waves
Like a vision she dances across the porch
As the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely
Hey that's me and I want you only
Don't turn me home again
I just can't face myself alone again
Don't run back inside
darling you know just what I'm here for
So you're scared and you're thinking
That maybe we ain't that young anymore
Show a little faith, there's magic in the night
You ain't a beauty, but hey you're alright
Oh and boy that's alright with me

Oh oh come take my hand
Riding out tonight to case the Promised Land
Oh oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road
oh Thunder Road
Lying out there like a killer in the sun
Hey I know it's late we can make it if we run
Oh Thunder Road, sit tight take hold
Thunder Road

Show a little faith, there's magic in the night
You ain't a beauty, but hey you're alright
Oh and that's alright with me

As she sings it, Mary is settling as much as the boy is. They both need escape and they are going out there together. It’s not exactly love, but it has an air of hope around it. That somewhere out there, there’s something better. That the open road holds an appeal that home doesn’t.

And don’t all we all feel that way sometimes?