

And as you might expect from the title of her latest book - or from anyone who writes lyrics about rape, religion and the patriarchy, for that matter - she is uncompromising and very earnest about the power of music to effect change, just like that friend from high school who practiced Wicca and carried amethyst in her pocket. Amos has maintained an impressive career since her first solo album, “Little Earthquakes,” in 1992.
This, I imagine, is what makes reading books about artists and other music types who came up during the ’90s - that bygone era when labels were still flush, there was no Spotify and people still waited hours to get into nightclubs - so quaint and entertaining.Īnd thus I went into Tori Amos’s new book, RESISTANCE: A Songwriter’s Story of Hope, Change, and Courage (Atria, 261 pp., $26), with an open mind, ready to feel old. In many ways, what I love about you is that you now seem so tidy and predictable. There are no release schedules that music critics can rely on to plan their reviews. There are no massive brick-and-mortar record stores.

Today aspiring artists write rap songs about horses and cowboy boots, put them on SoundCloud and, against all odds, go on to delight the entire country, with an able assist from Billy Ray Cyrus, whose biggest hit was released in 1992. I don’t feel nostalgic for you, exactly, but you’re never far from my mind, especially your music, which is interesting because so much about music has changed since you were here, starting with the business itself. How special you were with your plaid shirts, midriffs, Lilith Fairs, gangsta rap and boy bands.
