Tori Amos - “Crazy”
This song (and the album Scarlet’s Walk) reminds me so much of Hejira-era Joni Mitchell and it’s a connection I just recently made this week.
So, about a week and a half ago, I was blowing off work for a bit and sitting with a friend of mine at work. I had put up a sign at the desk that said something like, literally, “BRB,” and I sat on the couch with her, forcing her to push away her school books and put off the studying for just a bit longer, but she said she didn’t mind. We sat there on the couch, going through her ipod, each sharing one of the earbuds and there I was, scrolling along and judging her musical tastes.
Judging? That’s a bit harsh, I know, but let’s face it: You’re on the internet and if you’ve come this far, you are confidant in a certain bit of knowledge that your musical tastes are superior to someone else’s and you’re an expert. You are the sonic Judge of the Earth! But you know that what another person listens to is, in a small way, but an important way, a peek inward. A glimpse into them that life doesn’t always allow you. Sure, they may have a smelly pubic area or they may not agree with you on a woman’s right to choose or they may be the most amazing kisser ever but will they go to a jukebox and choose Nickelback? Because that is important.
Also, the true test of a music lover isn’t how much they love judging music, it’s how much they love talking about it (see what I’m doing here). They love sharing it. They love saying things like, “Have you heard this band/this song/this album, because you need to. Right now this is the absolute most important thing on your plate, to accomplish this, to rise to this next level, and I want to be there with you.”
Anyway, so, back to me: There we are, sitting here, listening to her music. We’re making chit chat, laughing about each song that’s old and silly, and she’s explaining why she needs German pop on her ipod or why this album of all dulcimer music helps her study or whatever. And there I am, getting to know her, right then and there through her music. She’s naked to me in a whole different way and I’m seeing her for the first time in some aspects. And she’s watching me, I can feel it, she’s hanging on each facial expression or word that I utter with each new click forward through her music library.
And then we get to this song.
From the very beginning, the way Tori Amos’ voice flows over you, so ethereal, just floating, with a little guitar and a beat holding her, I just kind of stopped and had a moment. I recognized this song. “From that one album?” I asked her. She arched an eyebrow, saying nothing. “The road trip album, right?” I asked, clarifying. “Yes,” she said, smiling, nodding, proud of me in a regard. She’s a Tori fan, I’m… well, not a fan fan, I guess, but that’s neither here nor there.
Though, I think in my attempt to be witty, I did mention something about Tori Amos reminding me of Joni Mitchell at moments, Tyler. Did I go so far as to mention Hejira? No, I don’t think I did. But that’s good. And good for both of us. You or I, one of us is very smart, and the other is probably reblogging that one.
Every other song, we’re just playing ten seconds, thirty seconds, a minute, laughing, reminding ourselves of old times, riffing, whatever, and then moving on. But not this song. We’re just sitting there, snug in the couch and I’m holding her petite little ipod, staring off into nothing and the song is playing there in my void. My companion leans closer, she knows I’m not in right now, and she knows it’s an opportunity.
I can feel her breath on my neck, the hairs moving a little. She whispers something soft, something like, “You’re going to miss me when I’m gone.” And then I just kind of hung there, not knowing how to respond and I kept thinking, What if I just restart the song? If I play it again, does all this keep going? Does the moment repeat? Does the moment live on after the song, or vice versa, or do they each fade out together?
