Track Listing

1. Horses
2. Blood Roses
3. Father Lucifer
4. Professional Widow
5. Mr. Zebra
6. Marianne
7. Caught a Lite Sneeze
8. Muhammad My Friend
9. Hey Jupiter
10. Way Down
11. Little Amsterdam
12. Talula
13. Not the Red Baron
14. Agent Orange
15. Doughnut Song
16. In the Springtime of His Voodoo
17. Putting the Damage On
18. Twinkle

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #2988 in Music
• Released on: 1996-01-23
• Number of discs: 1
• Dimensions: .24 pounds

Amazon.com
Boys for Pele, the title of Tori Amos's epic third album, is as awkward and confusing as the music inside. Though it sounds like a recruitment slogan for Little League soccer, the name actually refers to the lost temples of feminine divinity. Pele, you see, is the Hawaiian volcano goddess; the boys, well, they're the sacrifices that quell the rumbling lady's rage. Attempting to regain fires stolen long ago, Pele rewrites the crucifixion to star a girl Jesus and in doing so conjures a forgotten matriarchal mythology. While Amos's characters--Jupiter, Muhammad, Lucifer--are male by name, the aural landscape into which they're thrown is as symbolically and expressionistically female as Georgia O'Keeffe's skull-and-roses paintings. Pele is a complex and formless--and often impenetrable--work of gothic-pop chamber music, both beautiful and ghostly in its nearly complete reliance on Amos's rolling Bosendorfer grand piano, chilling harpsichord (which she bangs like a courtly punk rocker), and acrobatic voice (as earthy as Joni Mitchell's and as otherworldly as Bjork's). Unfortunately, she takes us only halfway: her songs engage and challenge us to understand, but the imagery offers few clues to help us crack their frustrating opacity. Pele ends up as much a pretentious and self-indulgent trip as it is a synthesis of talent, imagination, and skewed vision. Still, there's reason to celebrate that an album as formalistically and thematically alien to pop audiences as Pele would win such quick success upon its original release. --Roni Sarig

Customer Reviews

Into The Labyrinth
With the hopeful words 'And if there's a way to find you, I will find you/For threads that are golden don't break easily,' from its brooding first song, 'Horses,' it is clear that, on Boys For Pele, Amos is off questing. There is an implied invitation to follow, but Amos is increasingly an artist's artist, her songs musically and lyrically hieroglyphical and untranslated. In the next song, 'Blood Roses,' one of the most visceral break-up ever songs committed to record, she confronts the Minotaur head on, and it becomes clear that the path she's on is the dark one leading into the labyrinth. Not an easy quest to take up, or follow down.

This album seethes with honest passion, ungainly, ugly, and destructive, in a more overt way than did the already aggressive Under The Pink (with its repetitive choruses of 'I want to kill this waitress/but I believe in peace, ...,' 'this can't be happening/you bet your life it is,' 'can't stop what's coming, can't stop what is on it's way,' the off-hand 'a few witches burning, gets a little toasty,' and the murderous 'Past The Mission')----in fact 'Professional Widow,' teeth bared, Medusa-head held high, scorches like nothing since Marianne Faithfull's Broken English. Since the album's title refers to men and boys sacrificed to the capricious Hawaiian goddess of the volcano, Tori's emotions (and untamed vocals throughout), as expressed, are appropriate. Loneliness, spiritual isolation, suicide, murder, death, masochism, and rapacity all make appearances, but, if one looks closely, only in passing: it is Amos's individualistic, spiritual striving that is the theme and real key to the record.

Fans and critics who accuse Amos of a direct and willful adversarial relationship with God (or 'God') are wrong. Amos's god-like or godly personae here---Pele, Lucifer, Mohammad, Jupiter----are living, vibrating metaphors with which she has opened and sustained a running, and, importantly, two-sided, dialogue. These fragile and suspicious exchanges, difficult if not impossible to understand literally, are shared here with the listener with all emotional blinders off, so even the most obtusely lyrical songs are understandable on an feeling level. Comparably, a person who doesn't understand Spanish or Latin dialects can still enjoy an album like Yma Sumac's Voice of Xtabay, whose meaning is all in Sumac's voice and intonation, or might as well be.

As the songs pass and fold brilliantly, chaotically, and wildly into one another, Tori herself, as a persona, becomes less and less apparent, as would might expect of someone harrowingly isolated. 'The way down,' she sings midway through the album's eighteen tracks, still descending, 'the way down, she knows.' At one point, on 'In The Springtime Of His Voodoo,' Amos finds herself not in her own composition but in the Eagles' 'Take It Easy' singing, "hey, I think I'm in the wrong song." Almost at the end, in the plainly masochistic 'Putting The Damage On,' which nonetheless has one of the Pele's loveliest melodies, we gain what might be direct, or only teasing, insight into the source of Amos's more pragmatic wounds: 'Boy, you sure look pretty/When you're putting the damage on.' Presuming she means he's putting the damage on her, feelings, acceptance and tolerance like that lead to pain, abuse, and self-hatred, there's no doubt.

Boys For Pele is a masterpiece and an incredibly brave work. Subsequently, Amos has withdrawn into strictly artificial personas, with very few exceptions. A far cry from the college girl-like Little Earthquakes, Boys For Pele will not appeal to the broad public. The photograph of Amos on the sleeve, guarding a primitive back-hills cabin with a shotgun, rattlesnakes around her feet, is interesting, as is the photo inside of Amos, in a rocking chair, nursing a piglet at her breast like an indiscriminate earth goddess, teat available to all in need. In another, the reflection of a nuclear family is visible in an oily puddle, as is an explosion, possibly a nuclear one: certainly this is a clever play of words, meaning and image. Shadowy children's faces peer through the dirty windows from the dark interior of the shack, suggesting abandonment, sorrow, and vulnerability, perhaps the way Amos felt as a child, or may have felt during the record's production.

However, the atmosphere of the record would be better represented by something like the photograph of Nico on the cover of her fourth solo album, The End, in which Nico, already half-sunk into her late decadent phase, naked at the shoulder, peers out pensively into an unknown and indiscernible gloom.

Evil! Hardly!
Its true that this is Amos's must challanging work. Only "Caught a Lite Sneeze" lacks depth, and its still a pretty difficult song. This is not for the lazy listener. It is my personal favorite Tori Amos album, but if you're new to her, buy Under the Pink, or From the Choirgirl Hotel, first.

I can understand why some people dislike this- the melodies are quite classical in style (and look how much mainstream popularity classical music has!), and Tori's unique voice does get a little whiney at times- notably on Professional Widow. However, each song, if you let it, will take up residence in your head or heart (or somewhere inbetween), and take on a special meaning to you. So very few artists can do this; its a magical thing.

As for the person who said, because of the song "Father Lucifer" (don't let the title scare you) that Tori Amos is, to paraphrase, 'sugar-coated evil', I seriously quesiton if he or she read the lyrics or listened to the song at all. "Father Lucifer" is a beautiful piano song about the dark side of human nature- not some satanic rant! If it's wrong to sing about humanity's dark side, well then it's a sad world! I prefer my music to be honest, thank you very much.

The synopsis? If you're a Tori fan, its a must have. If you find it too dense/annoying, just give it time to grow on you. If you don't know Tori Amos, this isn't the best place to start (although ti was my first Tori album). Save Pele for when you've become accustomed to Tori's delightful eccentricities!

A bold, complex, eclectic work of musical genius
It is very difficult to write a review for this album. It is so dark, mysterious, and complicated that I can't pretend to understand all of the songs, but I have no problem hailing it as an original work of musical genius. Tori opens up her heart in so many ways that you can gain new insights each time you listen. This is, for the most part, a somber collection of songs. While I, as a man, love this CD, there are some places in which Tori seems to release some negativity toward men and failed relationships. I believe there is a strong female empowerment theme in these songs; even the unusual cover portrays a woman more than capable to rise above any man who approaches. More universally, though, Tori encourages every individual to strengthen himself/herself.

This album starts out slowly and quietly, as "Beauty Queen" begins with one note on the piano repeating itself; the song soon melds into "Horses," a more intensive yet relatively quiet song. Then the waves crash on the heavy, harpsichord-accompanied "Blood Roses," which seems to echo the bad end of a relationship and categorizes at least some men as "nothing but meat." "Father Lucifer" has a slow, easy melody that climaxes with a slight pandemonium of lyrics. Tori rocks the harpsichord with "Professional Widow," in which soft, lilting lines bridge emotional, intensive lyrical episodes. I love this song, but I imagine the message better relates to women than it does men. "Mr. Zebra" is a short track marking a transition back to soft, lilting music. "Marianne" is a somber song that seems to deal with the suicide of a friend. With "Caught A Lite Sneeze," Tori makes her own hate machine from memories of a failed relationship; this first single from the album is an infectious, masterful song. "Hey Jupiter" is a very slow, serious song which must be listened to closely in order to be truly appreciated--this one really hits you and grows on you over time. I was a little surprised when it was released as a single because it is so serious and slow, but there is no denying the song is incredible. "Talula" rocks, but it is slightly different from the version on the "Twister" movie soundtrack. The second half of the album is filled with slow, delicate singing and minimal accompaniment. Wondrous songs such as "Not the Red Baron," "Doughnut Song," and "Twinkle" do not tend to stay in my head too well because of their fragile composition, but they are more than worthy of a listen. "In the Springtime of His Voodoo" and "Putting the Damage On" form a nice yet sympathetic contrast to their more ethereal immediate counterparts.

This is indisputably a unique, eclectic album with almost 70 minutes of music. The real gems are "Caught A Lite Sneeze," "Talula," and "Hey Jupiter." The first two of these songs have a strong beat and a rock feel to them, but the beat-driven songs on here make up a significant minority. While much of the music is piano-based, Tori brings in all sorts of unusual instruments to her songs--the harpsichord and Bosendorfer piano are used extensively, whereas bass and drums make a forceful impression on select tracks such as "Talula" and "Merry Widow." This album is so unique and unusual that I can understand some people, maybe even a few Tori Amos fans, disliking it. This isn't music to pop in the stereo and start dancing to. Tori puts a lot into these songs, and she demands a lot from her audience in return because only the listener's attention can secure his/her comprehension and enjoyment. Finally, I will just say that you should not toss this CD aside if you do not like it initially; I myself had to listen to it several times before its magic really became clear to me.