Never Was a Cornflake Girl | Tori Amos’s Second Outing Proves to Be a Smash as She Liberates Herself From Chains That Bind Her.
Coming off her debut smash, Little Earthquakes, Amos began work on her follow-up, Under the Pink. The record would add more to its production: orchestral strings, a prepared piano, and guest vocals from Nine Inch Nails frontman Trent Reznor. Amos’s music began to focus on more broad themes of betrayal, self-empowerment, and personal reflection:
“If there’s a theme on Under the Pink, it’s one of self-empowerment — whether it’s women acknowledging the violence in themselves or people coming to terms with the loss of hope. It’s about the refusal to see yourself as a victim, and how to have passion in your life without equating it with violence. It’s just as personal and just as involved as before. There might be other characters in these songs that we haven’t met before, but it’s still me.”
“Pretty Good Year” was inspired by a letter Amos got from a fan. She details some of it in the book In Their Own Words: Songwriters Talk About The Creative Process:
“I got a letter from a guy named Greg. He’s a fan, and this letter just happened to get to me… And he wrote to me this letter that touched me to the core about how at twenty-three, it was all over for him. In his mind, there was nothing… The point is, what I tried to come up with is the feeling we all feel. Shaking us out of this numbness. I was just telling Greg’s story and Greg affected the singer so much that it brought my own stuff into it, and that was kind of a neat surprise.”
“Pretty Good Year” touches on a theme Amos plays with in several of the album’s tracks: liberation.
Her tone is warm and welcoming as she weaves the story of “Greg” and his venture to happiness. The softness of Tori’s vocals breaks at the bridge as frustrations peak, “Well hey, what’s it gonna take till my baby’s alright/ What’s it gonna take till my baby’s alright.” As quickly as the guitars and vocals swell, we’re relieved and back in the calm.
It’s a fantastic release and recovery and one of my favorite openings from Tori’s discography.
To those privvy to her b-sides, she takes a nod to “Ode to the Banana King” from the “Silent All These Years” single (“Lucy was pretty, your best friend agreed”).
Continuing the theme of liberation, “Past the Mission” is where she is trying to rescue herself from being a victim. This can be heard in the song’s chorus, “Past the mission behind the prison tower/ Past the mission I once knew a hot girl/ Past the mission they’re closing every hour/ Past the mission I smell the roses,” that once “hot girl” she knew is attempting to pull herself free from this internal prison and come out stronger.
Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails provides backing vocals on the chorus (which was recorded in the Tate House where Sharon Tate was murdered). Compared to the ache in “Baker Baker,” there’s a confidence in her voice here. It mourns the past while looking forward with optimism. On a side note, the unique sounds in the song’s bridge came from some experimentation with Eric Rosse in the studio:
“I wanted to keep the piano at the center while I experimented with different sounds… like in that bridge of “Past the Mission”, I’m playing a Vox organ around the piano, and Eric had styrofoam being pushed on the bottom end of the strings of the piano to create that strange bassoon sound. So there was a bit of prepared piano experimenting that we really didn’t take as far as we really wanted to because we were short on time.”
Compared to the hope in “Past the Mission,” “Baker Baker” see Amos more sullen over her withdrawal and how it's affected her relationship. Continuing with trying to rescue oneself from their victimhood, Amos grapples with wanting to take down those walls she’s put up to protect herself while trying to build herself back up again, “Baker baker baking a cake/ Make me a day/ Make me whole again.” The mix of melancholy strings and languorous piano adds to the bittersweet feeling.
Like many of her songs, Tori envelopes you in her raw emotion. She’s still guarded against the events in “Me and a Gun” from Little Earthquakes, and through this running, she’s run off her boyfriend. The candid nature of the song really connects with you on a personal level. You ache with Tori here.
“God” would be one of her most wild, most alternative, and most controversial songs to date. Fast-paced drums and biting distorted guitars let you know this is no hymnal you’re used to. Following along the lines of the disjointed power between men and women, Amos calls for a leveling out all the way up to the top:
“There’s a division of power, male and female power, and there’s a division within my own being… and that’s how the song ‘God’ got written. The institutional God who’s been ruling the universe, in the books, has to be held accountable. I want to have a cup of tea with him and just have a little chat. I feel like the song is a releasing, a sharing. It’s honest and loving. And it’s sensuous. It’s the goddess coming forth and saying, ‘Come here, baby. I think you’ve had a bit of a rough job, and I don’t mind helping out now.’ Which I think is really cute.”
If we move forward with the notion of liberation, here we’re liberating ourselves from the chains of religion (specifically Christian theology). This is even further brought to the forefront in the song’s bridge as you can hear her recite Proverbs 31:3: “Give not thy strength unto women, nor thy ways to that which destroyeth kings.”
“Icicle” brings in sexual liberation. Its coming-of-age tale pushes past the shame of being a woman who wants to pleasure herself to celebrate this self-discovery.
A brief piano improv takes us into the icy landscape of the song. Little is hidden in metaphor, as Amos candidly tells of her freeing mindset, “Greeting the monster/ in our Easter dresses/ Father says bow your head/ like the Good Book says/ I think the Good Book is/ missing some pages.” The song’s key change breaks past the chains of religious sexual shame as she discusses her self-discovery proudly.
It’s sung in almost a whisper as if you’re hearing a secret. The bridge is what gives us a more exuberant delivery around the subject. Like always, Amos keeps you captivated throughout. It’s titillating but never vulgar, making it feel more like a close friend telling you a very personal story.
“Bells for Her” brings in a prepared piano (which is a piano in which various objects, such as nails, paper clips, etc., are put between the strings to create a unique tone). To get the distinctive, almost toy piano sound you hear on the track, Tori recalls the following in the piano’s preparation:
“He put nails in it and did all kinds of things to make it. It was an old piano. We just needed an old upright that could be reconstructed. I didn’t know what the sound was until we found it. They were also taking silver balls — those Chinese meditation balls — and rolling them down the strings of the Böse, then recording that. So we were working with a lot of sound effects that were being generated from a piano.”
Lyrically, the song illustrates the end of a friendship between two women. This paralleled with Tori and friend Beanie’s real friendship at the time (one which would be repaired a few years later). This is the most delicate song on the album, almost like lace. The fragile tone of the prepared piano echoes the fragile state Amos is in around the end of this friendship.
“The Waitress” is the darkest track of the album. Here, we explore the notion of violence between women that almost comes to fruition. Tori’s ominous “aaa haaaa” at the beginning of each verse adds an unnerving tension to the song. We’re grappling with rage as she describes how she’s ready to end this waitress, “So I want to kill this waitress/ She’s worked here a year longer than I/ If I did it fast you know that’s an act of kindness.” The chorus jars you out of this mindset as she soars into, “But I believe in peace/ I believe in peace, bitch.” We’re brought back to sanity by the song's end as she gains clarity and chooses a tense ceasefire over war. I love this song so much. The eruption of gnarled guitar and Tori’s captivating performance throughout sell the track. I always give the song multiple repeat listens.
“The Wrong Band” is probably the most playful track off the album. Here, we follow the stories of several sex workers. Originally, the song was slated to be a b-side but was moved over to the album in the place of “Honey” due to an off comment in the mixing room. The song has tones similar to the b-side “Daisy Dead Petals.” Unfortunately, I think it isn’t as strong as “Honey.”
Out of all the tracks on the album, I typically skip this track. Although fun and unique, it never really grabs me.
“Cornflake Girl” was the big smash hit of the album. Out of all the songs in Tori’s catalog, this is probably the most recognizable. Tori was inspired to write the song after reading Possessing The Secret Of Joy by Alice Walker, which goes into the process of female circumcision in Africa.
The song describes women betraying women (these “Cornflake Girls”). Her frustration with the deceptive nature of these women comes to a head in the song’s chorus, “This is not really/ This, this, this is not really happening/ You bet your life it is.” In one of her most grandiose moments, the piano solo at the end of the song’s bridge plays as intensely as any guitar solo.
Like the music video shows, this is a big conflict moment between the women. You’ll be taken by Amos’s skill and words as soon as you hear this song. It’s definitely a zenith point on the record.
One of the more simple songs on the album is “Cloud on Your Dog.” She keeps a cool fog to verses and opens up wide in the song’s chorus. John Philip Shenale’s string arrangements keep you afloat in the clouds. Lyrically, Tori seems to be pushing against this attachment she has formed with her lover, “Leave me the way I was before, but/ You’re already in there/ I’ll be wearing your tattoo, yes.” This leads to her mind swirling in the bridge, in circles, as she tries to grapple with pushing him away and working against this deep attachment she’s garnered.
“Space Dog” is a bit two-sided, one side is funkier, and the other is more classical. My favorite quote about the song comes from B-sides Magazine in 1994:
“I can see how “Space Dog” is tricky… “But Space Dog” is a mushroom trip.”
Lyrically, it feels like coming out of this fantastical place and falling back to reality. You get this psychedelic funk that breaks in the chorus, “So sure we were on something/ Your feet are finally on the ground, he said/ So sure we were on something/ Your feet are just on the ground, girl,” that feels like coming out of the high of new love and seeing things in a more lucid mind. You also get a nod to both Neil Gaiman and Patti Smith in the lines, “Seems I keep getting this story/ twisted so where’s Neil when you need him…Is she still pissing in the river, now.”
“Yes, Anastasia” is the longest track on the album. Coming in at just over 9 minutes, it gives off an air of a classically based tale. The title is a reference to Anastasia Romanov. We get a feeling of Anastasia’s journey towards what would tragically be her death in Russia through the song:
“When we get to “Anastasia” — that’s where my experience from the violent kidnapping that I went through with “Me and a Gun” kind of made me able to understand the horror that she went through, and yet, the incredible understanding that she came to, which is the first half of Anastasia, that whole, “Show me the ways to get back to the garden” and “Driving on the vine over clotheslines. But officer, I saw the sign.” You’re very aware of what’s happening, that you’re being changed and that you’re numbing yourself, but how do you turn it around? And that’s where “We’ll see how brave you are” — when you’re 18, you know everything, and it’s, yeah, I can handle anything. Well, any of us can be brought to our knees real fast. And with Anastasia, I would be looking kind of down on myself through different parts of my life, going, “We’ll see how brave you are.” And I get such hope from that one.”
It’s a slow start to the true rise into the meat of the song, at about four and a half minutes in. Much like the quote from The Baltimore Sun states, the beginning feels like a slow realization of what is to come. The chorus feels less like a snide remark but like an affirmation that she can brave this terror to get out alive. Of course, John Philip Shenale’s string arrangements create a truly magical experience throughout the song's build and eventual release.
Tori’s take on the artwork for Under the Pink is an impressionist painting. It feels more classical but recorded from a Dutch angle. There’s teeth. She unapologetically expands on the candid topics in Little Earthquakes. Amos comes off as confident and empowering even in her lowest moments here. Another very exciting aspect of the album is the experimentation she does around the piano. It’s classical, alternative, heavy, and light all at once. This would be her second platinum record. Aside from “The Wrong Band,” I don’t really find much fault in the project. It’s tight around its concept and comes ready to bare all.
My favorites:
- “Pretty Good Year”
- “God”
- “Bells For Her”
- “The Waitress”
- “Cornflake Girl”
- “Cloud on My Tongue”
My overall rating: 9 out of 10. Much like Tori stated in her live performance of “Honey” on the “Hey Jupiter” single, I’m sad it got kicked off last minute. Aside from that, the album is spotless.
Even in its most esoteric moments, you’ll connect with the sentiments Amos is saying. As the title states, underneath it all, these are emotions we can all connect to.
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