Though Tori Amos has toured consistently since her heyday in the mid-'90s, her current tour supporting her latest release, Unrepentant Geraldines, is her most highly anticipated in years. In large part, this is due to the strength of the album, a welcome return to the mix of alt-pop and haunting piano ballads that initially stole the hearts of fans. Thanks to the power of social media, however, a separate phenomenon is also fueling this renewed interest in an artist who'd been all but ignored in recent years.
In March, motivated by the new record — and by feelings of nostalgia and disbelief that Amos' benchmark sophomore album, Under the Pink, is now 20 years old — a barrage of pro-Tori proselytizing suddenly lit up newsfeeds. But this time the source wasn't your eccentric friend with the known-to-all Tori obsession. Thoughtful, in-depth analyses of Amos' contribution to music and her continued relevance began popping up — first on Buzzfeed, from Sady Doyle, then on NPR in a piece curated by Ann Powers featuring several music writers.
For those who have loved and appreciated Amos' music for years, this was a welcome sea change. In gratitude, admirers came out of the woodwork, sharing and commenting with unbridled joy. The silence had been broken. Fans started owning up to a love that over time had turned into a dirty secret.
It wasn't always that way. Tori Amos was an unmistakable icon of early '90s alternative music. Her videos were in steady rotation on MTV and even featured on Beavis and Butthead. Though it is hard for some to believe, straight men once listened to Tori Amos alongside all their other, sometimes much harder alternative favorites (think Smashing Pumpkins and Nine Inch Nails). For women, misfits, gays and other marginalized groups, she represented an alternative path — one that didn't conform or shy away from difficult topics. She was a light in the darkness. As Powers explains, even Amos' most personal songs had a compassion and empathy that drew her music out of "confessional singer-songwriter" territory into something transcendent. "Amos' empathetic imagination is balanced by strong ethics," Powers writes. "When she uses others' stories, they shine their own lights, rather than being subsumed within her world view."
The tragic byproduct of Lilith Fair was the subsuming of every other major-label female artist active in 1997, associated with the festival or not, into one imaginary category. This "genre" was made by and for women: As with the chick flick, it could be easily dismissed, ignored and derided by listeners and critics (often male) who sought music of so-called substance. To make matters worse, nonconformist artists like Amos, Fiona Apple and Björk faced scorn as the mainstream media grew increasingly homogenized. Björk's stunning score and performance in Dancer in the Dark, for example, were overshadowed by the media fixation on her Oscar dress. Eccentricity was derided and discouraged as boy bands and girl groups climbed the charts. It has taken years for the reconfigured industry to again champion new female artists who defy convention and chart their own paths — and then only occasionally. The forgotten women of the '90s, meanwhile, still share a stigma that is hard to shake.
That Tori Amos has overcome all these factors to capture the attention of the media — and social media — all over again in 2014 is extraordinary. That she has done so at age 50 is inspiring. Over the past few albums, Amos has openly addressed the ways in which aging female artists, and women in general, are treated as disposable. On "16 Shades of Blue," one of Unrepentant Geraldines' most confrontational tracks, she says, "See over there at 33 she fears she'll lose her job / Because they hear the ticking of her clock / At only 15, I said 15, they say her future's bleak / She should have started this at 3." In case that's too artful, she puts the matter bluntly: "There are those that say I am too old to play." Amos has explained in interviews how writing and recording this album has helped her come to terms with her fears about turning 50 — telling the Irish Times that it was her daughter Tash, with whom she duets on the tearjerking track "Promise," who pulled her out of dark contemplation.
This is perhaps the most compelling aspect of Tori Amos' re-emergence: An artist with nothing to lose is using her rekindled notoriety to question the same constructs she challenged in the '90s. This time, though, her wealth of experience is an asset as she attempts to break the mold. While a younger generation of women struggles to understand the importance and relevance of feminist thought, Tori Amos is here to remind us anew that sexism is still a pervasive force. At the same time, she inspires others to age with integrity.
On Monday, Tori Amos visits Nashville for the first time since 2007, marking her first Ryman appearance in more than a decade. If her setlists to date are any indication, the show will satisfy fans looking to hear old favorites while showcasing some of the best material from Geraldines. So don't miss it. As Amos has reminded us, the clock is ticking.
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