The Quickest Girl in the Frying Pan

So I received my two new Tori Amos bootleg cds in the mail today. Hear me out.

I am obsessive and dorky about her. I cry over some songs. But, I also enjoy a good rockin’ Distillers cd any damn day of the week when I’m feeling pumped.

I grew up on Rush, Blue Oyster Cult, Sabbath, Zeppelin, Foreigner, Journey, Deep Purple, Janis Joplin, Sex Pistols, Iron Maiden, Van Halen, Black Flag, etc. I know that was long-winded. Just laying the groundwork here.

Tori is a fucking master, man. That’s all there is to it. And, god forbid, I enjoy some music made by women. I’m not a feminazi, I’m just happy we’re getting some representation now and then. I do not like Sarah McLachlan, Shawn Colvin, or any of those other Joni Mitchell wannabes. Tori stands out because of her lyrics and her brilliance with her instruments.

The lowest common denominator of humanity would be a bit smarter if the shit music record companies are churning out had any shred of intelligence put into it such as a Tori song does.

Tori’s songs hit you where it hurts, where it’s soft, where it’s silly, where it’s uncomfortable, and where it’s girly. Her songs start with one meaning and the more you listen to them, the more meanings come spilling out. There. That’s what I want the world to know.

My hubby can stop rolling his eyes now and flip over the Ratt album he’s recently resurrected. Damn, those guys rocked.

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