Tori Amos

The Beekeeper

In 20 years on this planet, I had never heard a Tori Amos record before this week. Also prior to this week, I never thought that was such a bad thing. But after listening to The Beekeeper, Amos’ latest addition to her ample catalogue, I realized life without Tori Amos is no life at all. The album is both heart-achingly fragile and inspiringly powerful; Amos peppers her mind-melting instrumentation with gorgeous imagery, evoking emotion at will like some sort of primordial fiery haired sprite.

Amos’ honeyed, boundless vocals document a number of shifting perspectives on The Beekeeper: seductress, victim, patriot, mother, feminist. She finds liberation in each and there is a sense that all are united by common thread. Each role flows seamlessly into the next, overlapping and connecting.

Joined by the London Community Gospel Choir on “Sweet the Sting” (who sound too much like the Dandy Warhols to be simple coincidence), Amos wanders through a cloudy, sexual haze accompanied by a man with a “hat cocked sure, defiantly.” “Ribbons Undone” features a delicate piano and celebrates the relationship between a mother and a daughter who “runs like a fire does, just picking up daises / Comes in for a landing, a pure flash of lightning.” On “Original Sinsuality,” Amos ruminates on the possibility that sexuality pre-dates sin, thereupon questioning the whole of conservative dogma.

At 19 tracks, though, The Beekeeper is bound to stumble. “Cars and Guitars” is hokey nostalgia and wouldn’t sound all that out of place on a modern country compilation, stuck between Toby Keith and some other dude who likes to fish and change his motor oil. “Hoochie Woman” clearly suffers from the use of a lame, anachronistic term such as “hoochie,”and the ominous piano riff sounds about as fresh.

Nearly 80 minutes long, The Beekeeper challenges the concept of time and the attention of those crippled with ADD. After all, in 80 minutes, you could prepare a nice flan or do at least 3,000 sit-ups. But I wasted 20 years of my life in a pre-Amos stupor and I’m better since emerging from it. Forget the flan and the sit-ups; listen to The Beekeeper instead.

Grade: A-