Apparently I’m turning into a woman.
The only question is whether I’m becoming a middle-aged housewife, or a disaffected angry young soulful woman tryin’ to make it in a man’s world.
Evidence for the housewife: I’ve been listening to “Con te Partiro” by Andrea Bocelli non-stop for the past couple of days. Often — and here’s the embarrassing part — with my eyes closed, like some tweed-wearing New Yorker-reading cultural elitist sitting in an armchair enraptured, letting the music wash over him; and sometimes tearing up like Robert de Niro at the opera in The Untouchables. This is not how grown men are supposed to behave, dammit. It’s not real opera, it’s pop-era. It’s the Bellagio music! That ain’t art, it’s Vegas. And not cool swingin’ Vegas, but taking a break from the kids to fly out from Ohio and play the nickel slots and try the buffets because they’re so reasonable Vegas.
Evidence for the chick-lit reader: I’ve also been listening to Fiona Apple. And liking it. A lot. Maybe it’s just karma for making fun of her before, and hopefully buying two of her records and “Criminal” will pay it off. I guess I’d always dismissed her as just Alanis Morisette gone R&B, or Tori Amos shifted down a few octaves, but now I don’t know what to compare her music to. It’s not just that she can sing and that her songs are well-constructed, it’s that all the arrangements are really, really well done — Extraordinary Machine has a lot of the Abbey Road thing going on.
She’s still got a little of the Wednesday Addams vibe, but after Wednesday moved to France and worked in a cabaret for a few years and had a bad relationship with a bisexual German existentialist filmmaker who would tie her to a wooden chair with flaking paint under a single bare lightbulb and make her watch as he over-tightened the strings of her piano — the only thing she had tying her to her past life in the States — until they snapped and she’d flinch with each one and swear that she’d make her way back home and use this rage and pour it into her music. Or maybe just stayed in the US and dated the moron who made Boogie Nights.
And I don’t know what to think about all this Norah Jones and Neko Case music I’ve got. And the four different versions of “Possession” by Sarah McLachlan. Not to mention the fact that I own every Indigo Girls album. Jeez, am I going to have to get tickets for Lilith Fair now?
One thing I will say: the Bellagio fountain show for Con Te Partiro is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life, ever. Yeah, I said it.
Well, I’ve always loved Fiona Apple. I haven’t listened to the “approved” version of “Extraordinary Machine” yet, but I got the “Free Fiona” version, and didn’t take to it quite as much as her last two albums. (But now that you’ve begun to like her, does that mean she’s going to break-up? How does that curse work for single performers?)
Not going to get into the whole PT Anderson thing, but I do find it funny that he went from dating someone who, at one time, didn’t seem to have any sense of humor at all, to dating one of the funniest chicks on the planet. Hmmmm.
As for the opera and the Indigo Girls and the Sarah McLachlan…well…ummm…uh.
I thought the Bellagio fountain show for Ennio Morricone’s “L’estasi Dell’oro (The Ecstasy Of Gold)” was pretty cool. Just like that Pogues’ “Good, Bad & The Ugly” song. At least I think it was by the Pogues…
I can’t claim any responsibility for any break-up that Fiona Apple has in the future. She seems to be right on the verge of a break-up as it is. And I didn’t know that PT Anderson was having a baby with Maya Rudolph — that makes me even more disappointed than knowing that Sarah Silverman’s dating Jimmy Kimmel and Lara Kightlinger’s with Jack Black.
And is the Morricone song at the Bellagio the original version, or the remix? I didn’t see that one — we only saw Con Te Partiro, “This Kiss” by Faith Hill, and “Hey Big Spender.” Oh yeah, and the national anthem. None of the other ones were all that cool, I thought.