Boys for Pele is the harshest and most challenging work in
Tori Amos' catalog. However, it also stands as the most cathartic, nourishing, and artistically thrilling of her career. Birthed in the wake of a devastating breakup,
Pele is a sprawling ode to the feminine, conjured in a whirlwind of pain that forced
Amos to embark on a quest into the dark unknown to find the fire within that had been snuffed out by the men in her life. After her breakthrough confessional
Little Earthquakes and the delicate impressions of
Under the Pink,
Amos struck out on her own for the first time, unfettered and uncompromised.
Pele would be her debut at the helm as sole producer, a control she would maintain for the rest of her career. With that power,
Amos was free to exorcize the demons as she saw fit. She did so with new additions to her arsenal: a harpsichord, brass flourishes, a choir, labyrinthine lyrics, and a pantheon of spirits summoned in the Louisiana bayou and the Irish countryside. It was a jarring shift. While unflinching songs like "Me and a Gun," "God," "Icicle," and "The Waitress" flirted with what was to come,
Pele delved directly into the darkness, cleansing both her and the listener in ways that she hadn't before attempted. Like hitting an exposed nerve or an open wound, the rawness was striking. Following the sparse opener "Beauty Queen/Horses," the discord on "Blood Roses" shocks
Pele to life with medieval harpsichord magic. That electricity surges throughout, most notably on "Professional Widow," a powerful dose of industrial-piano ferocity that holds nothing back in its demands for peace, love, and a little something extra. When her rage is restrained, the pain seeps through in quiet moments of devastation like "Hey Jupiter," "Putting the Damage On," "Doughnut Song," and the utterly heartbreaking "Marianne." While the first half of
Pele houses the more immediate numbers, the back end of the LP provides rewards for the patient listener. From the rousing "In the Springtime of His Voodoo" to the funky "Little Amsterdam,"
Amos slowly crawls out from the underworld, nourishing her spirit with a Southern gospel choir on "Way Down" and finding bittersweet solace on "Twinkle." Although the album runs long -- and is emotionally exhausting in scope -- the shared journey is part of the experience, as listeners play the Dante to
Amos' Virgil.
Boys for Pele remains one of her very best works, timeless in its examination of pain, self-discovery, and acceptance. [The 2016 remastered Deluxe version offers slight improvements to the original recordings, bolstering the background effects and amplifying much of the low end, especially in the quieter spaces on "Hey Jupiter," "Muhammad My Friend," "Little Amsterdam," and "Putting the Damage On." However, unlike the revisions found on
Tales of a Librarian, these refinements don't alter much. Except for the curious exclusion of "Samurai," the bonus disc compiles all the previously released B-sides from this prolific era -- even
Armand van Helden's jarring "Professional Widow" remix -- as well as the live tracks found on the
Hey Jupiter EP. For longtime fans, the most exciting inclusion is the legendary "To the Fair Motormaids of Japan." While the new "Talula" mix and the "Voodoo" snippet of "Rookery Ending" will please the completist crowd, "Motormaids" is good enough to warrant inclusion on the original album, sonically falling somewhere alongside "Cooling," "Doughnut Song," or even an
Under the Pink B-side. These additional resources provide an even deeper insight into both
Amos' psyche during the
Pele years (especially on "Hungarian Wedding Song"), as well as the atmosphere in the studios during these sessions (like on the revealing "Amazing Grace/Til the Chicken," which features
George Porter, Jr. and a brief allusion to the opening chords of "Past the Mission"). Even for fans who already own the bulk of this material, the reissue is worthwhile for these new glimpses into one of
Amos' most defining and honest eras.] ~ Neil Z. Yeung