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Tidal  >>

Tidal is the debut album by Fiona Apple, a New York singer-songwriter-pianist who was 18 years old at the time of its 1996 release. Apple is obviously talented--she has a dark, smoky alto and a knack for an arresting turn of phrase--but she's still several years away from realizing her potential. For every fresh lyric she writes ("Daddy longlegs, I feel that I'm finally growing weary of waiting to be consumed by you"), she provides two examples of embarrassingly precious schoolgirl poetry ("Adagio breezes fill my skin with sudden red," from the same song, "The First Taste"). She also has yet to refine her moody piano chords into actual melodies, though "Shadowboxer" comes close. --Geoffrey Himes

When The Pawn...  >>

Fiona Apple, what a character. Between the softcore video, the awards show rebuke, and now for her second album concocting history's most ludicrous title (the full thing runs 90 words long), Apple is earning a rep as a world-class oddball. Which may be the case. In contrast to many of her faux eccentric contemporaries, however, this wolf in waif's clothing seems to be genuinely astray in the straight world. And Apple is the real thing in another way--as a talent. When the Pawn Hits picks up where her eye-opening debut, Tidal, left off. With Jon Brion back in the producer's seat, the twosome concoct a heady, keyboard-heavy soundscape that perfectly complements the singer's assertive, dangerously sexy Nina Simone-meets-Chrissie Hynde delivery. Unforeseen embellishments color the arrangements, including the sinister carnival interlude in "On the Bound," the George Harrison-like guitar in "Mistake," and the drum solo (when's the last time you heard one of those on a pop album?) in "Limp." All Brion's enhancements are in service of Apple, who comes through with preternaturally confident expressions of insecure sentiments ("Change my mind, I can't decide, there's too many variations to consider") and cold-eyed accounts of recrimination and self-recrimination. Cohesive, gutsy, and finely honed, When the Pawn Hits pummels any notions of a sophomore slump for 1996's most promising newcomer. A character, yes, but what an artist, too! --Steven Stolder

Extraordinary Machine  >>

Fiona Apple, brooding, brainy belter and capital-A artist of near forbidding depth, begins her much gossiped-over third CD on a lark. The title track, one of two songs produced by Jon Brion before the label dispute that prompted hip-hop producer Mike Elizondo (50 Cent, Eminem) to step in, sounds like a Judy Garland number slathered with irony or something Rufus Wainwright might have had a hand in--strings soar, beats bump around skittishly, and notes require a ladder. But playful as it is, by the time the chorus kicks in it's clear why the world has missed Fiona Apple so much. Young female artists who have stepped into the spotlight since she fled it six years ago-- Nellie McKay and Joss Stone spring to mind for their cleverness and heat, respectively--seem slight in comparison. With every track ticked off, in fact, Extraordinary Machine moves listeners a little closer to what might be a correct assumption: that everything they've dipped into since 1999's When the Pawn ... was filler. Fans will feel it especially on "O'Sailor," a gimlet-eyed lament, and "Tymps," a tight piano track with a tip of the hat to hip-hop. It's "Window," though, with its lyric about "a filthy pane of glass" fogging up a clear view, that sums up the experience of this CD best. "I had to break the window," Apple sings, smoky-voiced as ever. "It just had to be." With Extraordinary Machine, she shatters already sky-high expectations. -Tammy La Gorce

When the Pawn Hits the Conflicts He Thinks Like a King...  >>

Paper Bag  >>

When the Pawn  >>

Shadowboxer  >>

Extraordinary Tribute to Fiona  >>

Tidal  >>

Tidal is the debut album by Fiona Apple, a New York singer-songwriter-pianist who was 18 years old at the time of its 1996 release. Apple is obviously talented--she has a dark, smoky alto and a knack for an arresting turn of phrase--but she's still several years away from realizing her potential. For every fresh lyric she writes ("Daddy longlegs, I feel that I'm finally growing weary of waiting to be consumed by you"), she provides two examples of embarrassingly precious schoolgirl poetry ("Adagio breezes fill my skin with sudden red," from the same song, "The First Taste"). She also has yet to refine her moody piano chords into actual melodies, though "Shadowboxer" comes close. --Geoffrey Himes

Across the Universe  >>