Age is all relative. Supposedly world-weary adults are some of the most immature people I know. Some young people have the look in their eyes of the aged. Youth only lasts for a brief window of time before you are only described as young in mitigating circumstances. This is all especially true in entertainment, be that writing, filmmaking or music. There is a suspicion of the young, that they do not have enough experience of life. It can be in the span of months before you are considered worthy to discuss certain topics. Yet, conversely, especially in this increasingly hastening world and especially in music, we expect people to start at a young age; the realm of the wunderkinds, where important musicians dying young is so common we have a club named after it.
I say this in the wake of Fiona Apple and Tidal – not to be confused with the streaming in which Prince is keeping his music hostage – recorded when she was 19, because many articles written during this album’s release that I’ve read seemed to be the detritus of patronising, patience testing wank. Again, suspicion of the young: a cunning way to condescend as is said on the album. If I could try to understand it, where Kate Bush and contemporaries like Bjork played to an ingénue persona and hid maturity underneath youthful guises, Fiona Apple takes the persona of the jaded jilted lover on her debut, an intentional melancholy of old crooners in smoky clubs.
And it works. In Tidal that contrast between the bright eyed girl that is blown up on the cover – the worst possible cover to crop for a website, incidentally – and music that’s traditions most obvious influences are much older; the climate of alternative rock birthing 40’s jazz with surprising results. We can hear this from the first electronic drums of “Sleep to Dream,” accompanied by spacy strings with vibraphones and piano chords that give the sense of walking on clouds, contrasted greatly with Apple’s angry vocals. This will be a trait of her music throughout this retrospective, a tone that feels like it could snap on a given moment, and can indeed be prone to (not really here though)
We keep on that flow for “Sullen Girl,” which tones down the percussion and goes heavy on the strings to give us Apple’s tale of depression, walking around halls all day and night and saying to herself some nice lines “But it’s calm under the waves/In the blue of my oblivion” and gives us sledgehammer metaphors “But he washed me ashore/And he took my pearl/And left an empty shell of me”. These are not necessarily the best lines on the album, but they are indicative of metaphorical style and approach. And given that Apple is a woman who thinks nothing of making album titles the size of poems. It shall be worth looking into the poeticism throughout.
We get a harder edge on her next two tracks, which are the definite singles of the album and the ones I was most familiar with coming into this review. “Shadowboxer,” with its bouncing and punchy piano riff layered and counteracted with the lushness of strings of both the hammered and traditional variety. Where “Sullen Girl” was full of water, “Shadowboxer” is fiery, with lines of “once my flame and twice my burn,” as well as the passionate and at times breathy vocals. In terms of her contributions as a vocalist, this is probably my favourite from Tidal.
It is before we get to the most famous hit that I should probably at least mention Apple’s continuing writing and producing partner, Jon Brion. An accomplished session musician who would then move into producing during this time with Aimee Mann, his multi instrument, organ and percussive aesthetic is recognisable whether that be on movie soundtracks or co-writing credits. Criminal has Fiona’s singular writing credit, but Brion’s session musician presence can be found with the songs main organ riff that compliments the hard rocking bass guitars and piano. Fiona’s lyrics meanwhile pertains to a central narrator who wishes to change her lifestyle after doing non-descript things to a “delicate man”. I could imagine this having similar charges of sexual shaming in the same way as, let’s say, a Trainwreck. But that conflict of feeling the need to change your ways, especially with such central language as “Criminal,” still makes for fascinating drama.
After a strong album opening, it should be worth noting that Tidal has a stronger first half than second. As Tidal progresses individual songs start to lose signifiers that distinguish it from the rest of the album. None of the songs are bad, just that the lesser ones don’t have as many memorable traits. I would say this is the case fro “Slow as Honey,” but it does have one recognisable feature. It is indeed sloooow, which is odd considering it is only the longest song of the album by one second. Marimbas and ringing basses fill in the space the mellow piano can’t, and whilst it is not one of my favourites from Tidal, lines like “you will remember me like a melody” show it still has its fair share of moments.
The slowness looks like it is going to continue into “The First Taste,” until the song is given a sudden burst of energy with percussion and even an electric guitar. Unfortunately the song-writing on this track is not as strong as the production, which after that first 30 seconds maintains a similar rhythm throughout, but regardless it is still a good groove to bounce to. After that though is another strong number with “Never is a Promise”, and if “Shadowboxer” is my favourite vocal performance from the album, “Never is a Promise” is still the most passionate, ranging from the tear-filled to the bellowing.
We then have another two tracks which are again very good production wise and musically, but don’t necessarily match up the quality of the first half of the album. “The Child is Gone” has some nice unique sounds with what sounds like steel guitars, and some great lines like ‘Cause I suddenly feel/Like a different person/From the roots of my soul/ Come a gentle coercion/ And I ran my hand/ O’er a strange inversion,” but otherwise is sometimes a little too mellow. Meanwhile “Pale September” has a great dramatic opening with the piano, marimba and string’s repeating patterns, and has a great ringing outro complete with sounds that I genuinely don’t know what they are coming from specifically (which are my favourite kinds of sounds) that allows you to get lost into the music, but I just feel that the middle somewhat sags.
There is still great song writing talents exemplified beyond composing and instrumentation though, as the finale gives us the great “Carrion,” a song that immediately distinguishes itself by leading on guitar. It makes you wonder exactly where that piano has gone, until the choruses bring them back with a dramatic thunder (backed by more electric guitar). The way that the verses and choruses initial feel like they don’t match actually gives the song dramatic heft, and exemplifies the kind of strange writing and strucutal choices that would happen on her next albums. The descriptive language that she uses to describe herself with the central Carrion, used to “To save you, honey/ Or the strength/ To walk away” builds against the ever building climax of guitars to give us a memorable finale.
Despite some of my issues with the song-writing on the latter half of the album, Tidal is still full of great production, instrumentation and dramatic, soulful lyrics throughout. It is the sign of Fiona Apple coming onto to the world stage as an adult, and whilst there is the occasional missed line or melody here and there, it more than marked her in an era that was chock-a-block with great female stars. And, spoilers, I think Fiona Apple gets consistently better with each album. Tomorrow we will see that first progression.
What did you think of the album, though?
Fiona Apple Album Ranking
- Tidal