Amidst a recent deluge of talented female artists such as Alanis Morissette and Natalie Merchant, Tori Amos stands out as a deeply sensitive and able minstrel whose stirring ballads have sent her to the top of the charts.
"Boys for Pele" is Amos' third solo album, following 1994's "Under the Pink" and 1991's "Little Earthquakes." "Boys for Pele" is more daring and provocative than her past works, and it will certainly please not only her loyal fans, but also those unfamiliar with her music.
"Boys for Pele," possesses a compelling maturity and uniqueness of style. Her tone is usually cynical and morose -- along the same lines as the significance of her title: Pele is a mythological Hawaiian goddess to whom primitive natives would sacrifice young men.
Incorporating a harpsichord, harmonium and a clavichord with her usual Bosendorfer piano, Amos creates unique sounds demanding attention and praise.
As usual, her voice sounds angelic, however, she now and again lapses into vocal oddities that seem to amuse her more than the listener. For instance, a few of her exclamatory shouts and shrills fail to deliver the solemnity of the lyrics behind them.
And those lyrics are another of Amos' strengths, because they express powerful emotions in a melodic and poetic fashion that sticks in the listener's head.
For instance, lines like "sometimes you're nothing but meat" and "the spire is hot / and my cells can't feed," combined with Amos' captivating voice and finger work on the keyboards, makes "Boys for Pele" an album in which listeners can lose themselves.
Generally slow and hypnotic, the album's most loudly striking portion is probably the case cover and inside booklet, which include photographs of Amos cradling a rifle and snuggling with a piglet.
The album opens slowly, with the short and quiet "Beauty Queen" which slides right into the next song, "Horses." An escapist fantasy, "Horses" sounds very much like Amos' past releases because of its slow and emotional rhythm blended with intense vocals.
Played by the radio stations, "Caught a Lite Sneeze" is the album's most widely heard song and most the easy to listen to because of its rapid pace and common theme, lost love.
Like the name implies, "Blood Roses" is an intriguing combination of violent images and an aesthetic rendition on the harpsichord, an unusual choice of instrument that breathes new life into such contemporary music.
Piano, drums and guitar produce a slow, heavy and heartfelt beat for "Little Amsterdam," which discusses from the eyes of her child the plight of a woman who has to resort to prostitution.
"Putting the Damage on" draws a vivid picture of a couple breaking up from the point of view of a woman who would much rather stay together. Soft piano and brass music accentuates Amos' control of voice in this somber and moving piece.
The album's most playful song, "Mr. Zebra" sounds like a children's ditty from a carnival, save for references to strychnine and Kaiser Wilhelm.
A more jazzy song with a healthy portion of attitude, "In the Springtime of his Voodoo," Amos abstractly discusses a girl's loss of innocence to an angry and driven man.
Amos' latest album finally showcases the sensitive and sometimes haunting sound of a voice standing out in the sometimes banal world of pop.
