Customer Reviews

Boys for Pele

5 star:		(237)
4 star:		(56)
3 star:		(24)
2 star:		(22)
1 star:		(14)

 

 

With the hopeful words 'And if there's a way to find you, I will find you/For threads that are golden don't break easily,' from its brooding first song, 'Horses,' it is clear that, on Boys For Pele, Amos is off questing. There is an implied invitation to follow, but Amos is increasingly an artist's artist, her songs musically and lyrically hieroglyphical and untranslated. In the next song, 'Blood Roses,' one of the most visceral break-up ever songs committed to record, she confronts the Minotaur head on, and it becomes clear that the path she's on is the dark one leading into the labyrinth. Not an easy quest to take up, or follow down.

This album seethes with honest passion, ungainly, ugly, and destructive, in a more overt way than did the already aggressive Under The Pink (with its repetitive choruses of 'I want to kill this waitress/but I believe in peace, ...,' 'this can't be happening/you bet your life it is,' 'can't stop what's coming, can't stop what is on it's way,' the off-hand 'a few witches burning, gets a little toasty,' and the murderous 'Past The Mission')----in fact 'Professional Widow,' teeth bared, Medusa-head held high, scorches like nothing since Marianne Faithfull's Broken English. Since the album's title refers to men and boys sacrificed to the capricious Hawaiian goddess of the volcano, Tori's emotions (and untamed vocals throughout), as expressed, are appropriate. Loneliness, spiritual isolation, suicide, murder, death, masochism, and rapacity all make appearances, but, if one looks closely, only in passing: it is Amos's individualistic, spiritual striving that is the theme and real key to the record.

Fans and critics who accuse Amos of a direct and willful adversarial relationship with God (or 'God') are wrong. Amos's god-like or godly personae here---Pele, Lucifer, Mohammad, Jupiter----are living, vibrating metaphors with which she has opened and sustained a running, and, importantly, two-sided, dialogue. These fragile and suspicious exchanges, difficult if not impossible to understand literally, are shared here with the listener with all emotional blinders off, so even the most obtusely lyrical songs are understandable on an feeling level. Comparably, a person who doesn't understand Spanish or Latin dialects can still enjoy an album like Yma Sumac's Voice of Xtabay, whose meaning is all in Sumac's voice and intonation, or might as well be.

As the songs pass and fold brilliantly, chaotically, and wildly into one another, Tori herself, as a persona, becomes less and less apparent, as would might expect of someone harrowingly isolated. 'The way down,' she sings midway through the album's eighteen tracks, still descending, 'the way down, she knows.' At one point, on 'In The Springtime Of His Voodoo,' Amos finds herself not in her own composition but in the Eagles' 'Take It Easy' singing, "hey, I think I'm in the wrong song." Almost at the end, in the plainly masochistic 'Putting The Damage On,' which nonetheless has one of the Pele's loveliest melodies, we gain what might be direct, or only teasing, insight into the source of Amos's more pragmatic wounds: 'Boy, you sure look pretty/When you're putting the damage on.' Presuming she means he's putting the damage on her, feelings, acceptance and tolerance like that lead to pain, abuse, and self-hatred, there's no doubt.

Boys For Pele is a masterpiece and an incredibly brave work. Subsequently, Amos has withdrawn into strictly artificial personas, with very few exceptions. A far cry from the college girl-like Little Earthquakes, Boys For Pele will not appeal to the broad public. The photograph of Amos on the sleeve, guarding a primitive back-hills cabin with a shotgun, rattlesnakes around her feet, is interesting, as is the photo inside of Amos, in a rocking chair, nursing a piglet at her breast like an indiscriminate earth goddess, teat available to all in need. In another, the reflection of a nuclear family is visible in an oily puddle, as is an explosion, possibly a nuclear one: certainly this is a clever play of words, meaning and image. Shadowy children's faces peer through the dirty windows from the dark interior of the shack, suggesting abandonment, sorrow, and vulnerability, perhaps the way Amos felt as a child, or may have felt during the record's production.

However, the atmosphere of the record would be better represented by something like the photograph of Nico on the cover of her fourth solo album, The End, in which Nico, already half-sunk into her late decadent phase, naked at the shoulder, peers out pensively into an unknown and indiscernible gloom.

Its true that this is Amos's must challanging work. Only "Caught a Lite Sneeze" lacks depth, and its still a pretty difficult song. This is not for the lazy listener. It is my personal favorite Tori Amos album, but if you're new to her, buy Under the Pink, or From the Choirgirl Hotel, first.

I can understand why some people dislike this- the melodies are quite classical in style (and look how much mainstream popularity classical music has!), and Tori's unique voice does get a little whiney at times- notably on Professional Widow. However, each song, if you let it, will take up residence in your head or heart (or somewhere inbetween), and take on a special meaning to you. So very few artists can do this; its a magical thing.

As for the person who said, because of the song "Father Lucifer" (don't let the title scare you) that Tori Amos is, to paraphrase, 'sugar-coated evil', I seriously quesiton if he or she read the lyrics or listened to the song at all. "Father Lucifer" is a beautiful piano song about the dark side of human nature- not some satanic rant! If it's wrong to sing about humanity's dark side, well then it's a sad world! I prefer my music to be honest, thank you very much.

The synopsis? If you're a Tori fan, its a must have. If you find it too dense/annoying, just give it time to grow on you. If you don't know Tori Amos, this isn't the best place to start (although ti was my first Tori album). Save Pele for when you've become accustomed to Tori's delightful eccentricities!

A 'special' version of a CD that is to be avoided at all costs. It was an attempt to cash in on the success of the remix of 'Professional Widow'. However anyone who bought this for the remix almost certainly hated the rest of the album, and anyone who bought the album as the whole would have hated having the remix slapped into the middle of it. The two styles (remix vs the rest) are so violently different it hurts.

If you want the album (and to me it rates 5 stars) get the regular version complete with 'In the Springtime of His Voodoo'. If you want the Professional Widow remix, buy the single. Just don't buy this triumph of commercial opportunism over musical taste.

It is very difficult to write a review for this album. It is so dark, mysterious, and complicated that I can't pretend to understand all of the songs, but I have no problem hailing it as an original work of musical genius. Tori opens up her heart in so many ways that you can gain new insights each time you listen. This is, for the most part, a somber collection of songs. While I, as a man, love this CD, there are some places in which Tori seems to release some negativity toward men and failed relationships. I believe there is a strong female empowerment theme in these songs; even the unusual cover portrays a woman more than capable to rise above any man who approaches. More universally, though, Tori encourages every individual to strengthen himself/herself.

This album starts out slowly and quietly, as "Beauty Queen" begins with one note on the piano repeating itself; the song soon melds into "Horses," a more intensive yet relatively quiet song. Then the waves crash on the heavy, harpsichord-accompanied "Blood Roses," which seems to echo the bad end of a relationship and categorizes at least some men as "nothing but meat." "Father Lucifer" has a slow, easy melody that climaxes with a slight pandemonium of lyrics. Tori rocks the harpsichord with "Professional Widow," in which soft, lilting lines bridge emotional, intensive lyrical episodes. I love this song, but I imagine the message better relates to women than it does men. "Mr. Zebra" is a short track marking a transition back to soft, lilting music. "Marianne" is a somber song that seems to deal with the suicide of a friend. With "Caught A Lite Sneeze," Tori makes her own hate machine from memories of a failed relationship; this first single from the album is an infectious, masterful song. "Hey Jupiter" is a very slow, serious song which must be listened to closely in order to be truly appreciated--this one really hits you and grows on you over time. I was a little surprised when it was released as a single because it is so serious and slow, but there is no denying the song is incredible. "Talula" rocks, but it is slightly different from the version on the "Twister" movie soundtrack. The second half of the album is filled with slow, delicate singing and minimal accompaniment. Wondrous songs such as "Not the Red Baron," "Doughnut Song," and "Twinkle" do not tend to stay in my head too well because of their fragile composition, but they are more than worthy of a listen. "In the Springtime of His Voodoo" and "Putting the Damage On" form a nice yet sympathetic contrast to their more ethereal immediate counterparts.

This is indisputably a unique, eclectic album with almost 70 minutes of music. The real gems are "Caught A Lite Sneeze," "Talula," and "Hey Jupiter." The first two of these songs have a strong beat and a rock feel to them, but the beat-driven songs on here make up a significant minority. While much of the music is piano-based, Tori brings in all sorts of unusual instruments to her songs--the harpsichord and Bosendorfer piano are used extensively, whereas bass and drums make a forceful impression on select tracks such as "Talula" and "Merry Widow." This album is so unique and unusual that I can understand some people, maybe even a few Tori Amos fans, disliking it. This isn't music to pop in the stereo and start dancing to. Tori puts a lot into these songs, and she demands a lot from her audience in return because only the listener's attention can secure his/her comprehension and enjoyment. Finally, I will just say that you should not toss this CD aside if you do not like it initially; I myself had to listen to it several times before its magic really became clear to me.

I'm 12 and a girl, and yet teen pop baffles me. I hear things about Hilary Duff and The Veronicas and artists like that, and how "kid-friendly" they are, and how teen girls are sure to love them, and I just shake my head and go listen to Tori. I'm probably the only 12-year-old I know who likes classical music, and because I like classical music, I love Tori. This was the 4th album of hers that I got (I also own Little Earthquakes, Under The Pink, From The Choirgirl Hotel and The Beekeeper). Boys For Pele is arguable the best release, at least in my opinion. My favorite track is Talula (The Tornado Mix), closely followed by Father Lucifer and Muhammad My Friend. It amazes me how anyone could play the piano that well. Professional Widow reminds me somewhat of Witness, off of The Beekeeper. In the beginning, it sounds like Tori is hitting the harpsichord keys with her shoe. But I like it anyway. The best tracks, in my opinion, are:

Blood Roses

Father Lucifer

Professional Widow

Mr. Zebra

Marianne

Caught A Lite Sneeze

Muhammed My Friend

Little Amsterdam

Talula (The Tornado Mix)

In The Springtime Of His Voodoo

In addition to being an incredibly gifted singer and pianist, Tori can write lyrics like nobody's business. I absolutely love the line "ran into the henchmen that severed Anne Boleyn/He did it right quickly, a merciful man". I myself love to write, so I really appreciate good quotes.

Tori isn't for everyone-I know that. But all those teen-pop fans don't know what they're missing.

BUYERS BEWARE! This is not the original edition of Boys For Pele. Whoever substitutes original Tori songs for REMIXES should be crucified indeed. How dare they take out In The Springtime of His Voodoo to put on that Professional Widow remix???? Honestly, I am sure Tori was unaware of this, she'd have never allowed it. Look for the original album!

Tori Amos is a magnificent musician.

She is also one weird chick.

Little Earthquakes is her first solo album, and its lyrics and melodies easily make it the most approachable of her albums.

Boys for Pele, though, has an ingenuity and diversity that most "pop" albums fear. Ms. Amos has enough musical chops to carry it off, too. She varies her instrumentation, uses sounds of nature mixed in with extremely bizarre lyrics to create this wonderful tapestry of art.

There aren't a lot of tunes to dance to (as in her middle-years albums), and no apparent rallying causes (as in her first two albums). But Boys for Pele has such a richness in melody, harmony, and lyrical sound that it remains, ten years later, one of my favorite albums.

(*)>

A very unnecessary release put out by Atlantic to showcase the success of Armand Van Helden's remix of "Professional Widow." The remix is placed after the original version of the song and largely breaks up the albums feel, and quite frankly, some of its integrity. And since "Pele" is a longer album, the remix displaces "In the Springtime of His Voodoo," further disturbing the album. The original release of "Boys for Pele" is a complex and often beautiful, though sometimes harsh, piece of work that asks the listener to look deeper. Bottom line: unless you're a serious collector, stick with the original release of the album - less money, less hassle, and a lot more of the piano songstress's intricately woven world.

First of all, it should be said that this is not an easy album to digest. "Boys for Pele" is, though, what happens when an artist maintains an awesome amount of integrity during a project, whether the "powers-that-be" see dollar signs or not. There is a lot of pain here (much of the material was written in relation to Tori's break-up with a long-time lover), but there is also more assured redemption and self-empowerment to be found than was the case on her debut "Little Earthquakes" or her sophomore release, "Under the Pink." The issues fought in this completely unique realm are just as compelling, but the album as a whole is more cohesive and the resolutions come in a more mature way.

Any musician can deliver an effective round of heartache and tear-in-your-beer sentimentality, but Tori goes a thousand steps further and confronts some of the demons of human interaction that have become ingrained in our psyches over hundreds of years-namely the unquestioned, yet ultimately unwarranted, patriarchal tradition of the church and the sell-out of feminine powers and deities-Pele is the Hawaiian volcano goddess. Don't fret, though! These are not trite cries of victimization, but universally valid grievances, applicable to males as well as females-basically anyone lost amid the misconstrued tenets of a comprehensive Western history that purports to tell the truth but doesn't know what it's missing. Digging deeper within herself and rooting out our collective shortcomings, Tori tries to explain (to herself as much as to her listeners) why it is that so many of us can only connect to each other in such destructive, fleeting ways.

The trademark piano is still here, but gets expanded to include more instrumentation on this massive project-more use of guitar, a harpsichord and organs, a brass section (most effective on "Putting the Damage On"), and absolutely essential and divine orchestral strings. There is even a gospel choir backing her on "Way Down" and a bull on "Professional Widow." Tori really experiments with her musicality here and it works beautifully. Another point to mention is the complexity of the lyric styling contained on this record. A good portion of these songs contains unpublished, secondary words sung concurrently by Tori with the `main' (or published) lyrics. After a few spins, you can start to hear what are more than background vocals-especially on the refrain of "Father Lucifer" and throughout "Doughnut Song"-listen closely!! They're an integral key to unlocking some of the mystery.

Loss and suffering abound throughout this work, but not without cause. What this piece ultimately ends up being, at least in one perspective, is a reclamation of usurped rights (and rites). Tori insists on "Muhammad My Friend" that the crucified figure of Christianity was a position that need not only have been awarded to Jesus but also to women-a Magdalene-affirmative philosophy that can be believed even without being too well-versed in it. This blasphemy [my term] negates the betrayal-in-the-garden cop-out modern-day theologians like to press so hard. While songs like "Blood Roses," "Marianne" and "Caught a Lite Sneeze" convey the pain of female objectification and unrequited love and misunderstood depression, several of the tunes finally give way to a sense of resignation about the world. In other words, Tori realizes that the psychic wounds can't be healed until she says, okay, this is how things are, whether I like them or not. This is never clearer than on "Hey Jupiter," wherein she stares the harsh feelings straight in the eye and accepts defeat; but once the showdown is done, reparations can begin. Probably the hardest code to crack is "Talula," but, as with the rest of the album, the key is not to try too hard to read into the message too literally; rather, let the abstract essence of the music and lyrics slowly creep into your brain. That's what makes listening to the music so enjoyable-and rewarding. There is one verse that I have to mention from the song, though, that gets back to the whole resignation theme and helps to explain a lot about the album: "ran into the Henchman who severed Anne Boleyn/he did it right quickly a merciful man/she said 1 + 1 is 2/but Henry said that it was 3/SO IT WAS/HERE I AM." [the capitalizations are mine]

This is a long record, but probably the best way to listen to it is to sit down and take the whole thing in at once. Tori has even suggested in interviews that some good red wine doesn't hurt while giving this one a spin! This musical self-vivisection has a lot to offer, but it is so dense that even avid listeners will probably never uncover every secret that lies behind all the little nuances, no doubt many will try. I originally bought this album in May of 1996 about four months after its release and after hearing "Caught a Lite Sneeze" on the radio. I can't imagine that this CD has been in my stereo any less than a thousand times in the last seven years, played either in part or its entirety, and if I listened for time #1001, I know I would find something new (and yes, the red wine does often help). The complexity of the material here is a turn-off for a lot of people, but for those of you who like to get something out of music other than a catchy hook (there are none here) or a good dance-beat, this one is a sure shot.

Note: "Anima rising" is a line from Joni Mitchell's "Don't Interrupt the Sorrow" from her album "The Hissing of Summer Lawns" that I thought was appropriate for the title of this review. If "Boys for Pele" turns out to be your cup of tea, you might want to check out Mitchell's album, too. Happy Listening!!

i'm not going to deny that this is a bit of a quirky album. no doubt about it. but, that's just it. that's its appeal. at least, for me. we begin our journey with a very short song called 'beauty queen.' ghostly and haunting, it sounds as though tori's singing to us through some sort of telephonic contraption. and then, BAM, 'horses' begins, another dark, melancholy-ish tune. in fact there are several more down-trodden, low key songs, such as 'not the red baron', 'marianne'(about a friend's suicide), 'little amsterdam', to name a few. also in fact, this is, in my eyes, tori's darkest album.

but fear not my friends, for the darkness lifts, and we can behold truly breathtaking jewels: 'caught a lite sneeze', 'hey jupiter', 'father lucifer' are several lovely, lovely tracks to level out the surfaces.

one of the bigger reasons why i adore tori, as a woman and as a musician, is the fact that she's a pretty funny person. i mean, take a gander at the song 'professional widow'. here we hear tori breathing heavily over a bull and a truly manic bose solo, hissing wildly, babbling in her own special language. 'blood roses' is another haunting song, but, it has its own quirky moments ("you think i'm a queer, i think you're a queer"). plus there are several short songs- 'way down', and 'agent orange', to sprinkle the sonic plain. not to mention the joyful 'talula', where you hear tori's girlish squeal in the back of your ear, snagging you with catchy beats and furious bose solos.

this is one of tori's more eclectic, admittedly bizarre albums. darker, angrier, fueled with pent-up emotion that explodes across your head and invades your mind, if you'll let it. and that's why i love it so. don't try to poke and prod too deeply into tori, you'll surely grow lost. boys for pele is one of the wildest, craziest albums i've heard. it's original and worth a double-take. and i'm babbling, i know. tori does that to me. but if you're hungry for some true old-school tori, with stream of consciousness lyrics and incredibly adept piano accompany, if you're on the hunt for straight from the heart music, here you go.