Fiona Apple Wants You To Feel Things
If I'm putting my cards on the table, I’d have to say that I have never been a “fan” of Fiona Apple. I have always respected her songwriting prowess, and found a lot to like in the noir mystique of her boozy 90's heartache anthems. Yet the songs never really grabbed me and connected in any meaningful way. I basically resigned myself to the idea that she would always be one of those artists I never truly got, at least not in the emotional sense of understanding and fully appreciating.
In no way do I think that this new album won't be lauded for all that it is (that’s already happening). Much more knowledgeable and rightfully fanatic folk than I have tackled and will tackle this topic in the upcoming days and weeks. But in listening to Fetch The Bolt Cutters a couple of times, I feel like I have a deeper idea of what Apple is about and it's resulted in new level of respect.
For starters, the LP is damn good. It just is. Academically, it hits many high notes in its cerebral take on how the songs interact with each other and with the listener. Emotionally, it sounds authentic in ways that few albums can and most would never attempt. The album is a lyrical barnburner - single lines that careers could be built on seemingly flit in and out of Apple's head with a casualness that is frankly stunning (the hook on "Relay" is but one example).
But it's the other things that make me want to discuss this record, the smaller things. Things that I never expected to find in a Fiona Apple joint.
Thematically, Bolt Cutters often conjures up the tools and processes of making music. While this is not strictly new territory for musicians ("write about what you know", yes?), she employs it here with undeniable deftness. On "Rack of His", a man's guitar rack is admired and ogled, and the way Apple reverses the gender roles in what is typically a male-to-female microagression is magnificent for reasons both entertaining and provocative. In "Drumset", the lack of the titular kit is a symbol of lost love and domesticity, while the rug on which it used to rest is a recrimination of a static inner life.
But even more than using instrumentation to draw parallels, the tactile nature of the recording and mixing is something to behold. A slinky stand-up bass in "Ladies" rides up the spine and elicits gooseflesh. The thumbstruck piano in "Shameika" hurts one's hands after a few repetitions. The whispered ending of "Cosmonauts" conjures a sympathetic feeling of claustrophobia that shortens the breath. All over the album, percussion rattles inside the listener's skull, skittering back and forth on Adderall with each stereo pan.
Fetch The Bolt Cutters is an artistic unicorn: a titanic album made independently by an iconic talent in restrictive circumstances that builds on everything that has come before with a jaundiced eye toward an uncertain future. From a locked room, Fiona Apple is allowing herself to really feel things. Within these songs, she really wants you to feel them, too. The resulting work proves that she’s still got a little of her own hell to raise.
