Tori Amos gets Strange(r) - The pianist and chanteuse embarks on adventures in male music

In the past, there have been certain foods which, upon first taste, I found positively unpalatable. But after forcing myself to try them more and more, the experience improved until I came to a point where I absolutely loved them, even craving them at times. The same can be said about the new Tori Amos album, Strange Little Girls (Atlantic). When, hearing the CD through for the first time, I wasn't overwhelmed by the usual, orgasmic delight that Amos's music tends to evoke from me: I was nearly ready to dismiss it as a failure. However, after taking a week's break from it and giving it another try, I predict that Strange Little Girls won't be leaving my CD changer anytime soon.

You may already be familiar with the premise of the album: Amos has taken 12 songs by male singers or male bands and remade them in her own style. Of course, this isn't the first time she has dabbled in remakes; among several, her rendition of Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" off the Crucify EP is probably one of her better known. In Strange Little Girls, she moves through a variety of music genres, from rap to '80s New Wave to classic rock, assimilating them into her own piano and electronical style, on which she's been working more over the past several years. This was something that actually upset me at first. I happen to be a pretty big fan of a few of the artists whose songs Amos uses in the line-up- how can anyone do "Heart of Gold" better than Neil Young himself?

The more I examined each song, however, the more I had an increasing sense of subtle genius at work. These songs are no cheap covers by some local alternative rock band at the local yuppie bar. I'm not willing to speculate too much on the psychological or spiritual implications of Amos having chosen specifically male songs for this album, but in remaking these songs, in recreating them from a woman's point of view, the lyrics take on entirely different meanings and really become new songs unto themselves. This type of role-play idea is reinforced by the CD insert, which features a variety of Cindy Sherman-esque portraits of Amos as a variety of characters, matched up with each song in Strange Little Girls.

Amos's anguished, howling, razor-sharp electric version of "Heart of Gold" turns a gently melancholy pondering, for me, into a feminist-edged rant on trying to find a good man in a society where men and women are often so confused and mentally demented when it comes to forming positive relationships.

As you muse over each song, the nuances of lyric and melody crafted by Amos become more apparent and more amazing. It is obvious that this was a very deliberately thought-out collection- not only is it a delight to see how she has made each song her own, it's also interesting to purposely compare them to the originals. Amos performs Depeche Mode's "Enjoy the Silence" with only her voice and the piano, creating an emotional love song from the original dance-tempo, electronic version of the song. The Beatles' "Happiness is a Warm Gun" is drawn out over several minutes, becoming a pleading political statement with clips of anti-gun propaganda fading in and out of the background. Fans of Amos's classical solo piano-playing will be delighted with the tender versions of Tom Waits's "Time" and Joe Jackson's "Real Men."

One of the more innovative titles of the album is Amos's remake of Eminem's "'97 Bonnie & Clyde," a song about a father who's taking his young daughter along with him to dump the body of her mother, whom he has just murdered, into a lake. Instead of rapping, however (although that would be interesting), Amos speaks the words in a poor country accent, punctuated by raspy breaks in the speech, to the eerie sound of a repeated violin melody. This was the song that opened the Tori Amos concert this past Saturday night at the D.A.R. Constitution Hall in Washington, D.C.

The song played from loudspeakers before Amos had even come out on stage while colored lights played through the rips in a ragged curtain. I can honestly say it was one of the more disturbing experiences I have had in awhile, and the song still gives me chills when I hear it now. It intrigues me that Amos would choose such a song to include among her other covers, and it really exposes the horror of the lyrics, making me understand why Eminem has been criticized for the controversial material of his music so vehemently in the past.

The "so-so" response that Strange Little Girls has consistently garnered is understandable; one of the things that I, and I assume other Tori Amos fans, love about her is her talent for poetic, intelligent, stirring lyrics and gorgeous piano compositions. It's easy to feel a little cheated by an album consisting entirely of covers, something that would be unusual for any band but seems especially strange for such an individualist artist as Amos. In fact, if you're as yet unacquainted with Amos's music, I would recommend listening to some of her earlier albums (particularly Little Earthquakes and Boys for Pele) before you attempt this one.

However, once you look beyond the surface of the songs, that same originality in which each song is framed becomes equally apparent. If nothing else, look at Strange Little Girls as a segue into the next phase of Amos's career. It's a brave attempt for her as a musician and an artist.