Almost 30 years on after the solo debut from Tori Amos, the wounds still feel as raw as they did in 1992. Up to that point in my own life, especially with regard to the music I was listening to, the open diary that is Little Earthquakes would have little, to no hold on me. The idea of putting on a record that didn’t mandate neck snapping head-banging, nor make for any type of testosterone re-fueling was absurd.
The resilience of surviving the experiences that source these songs, and then coming back stronger, is more of a demand than a theme of this record. It’s through the tenderness of the music that strength is defined. Not just a request to empathize with the fragility of another being, Little Earthquakes, and the commanding presence of its creator, provided a challenge to a 20-something boy who thought he knew what it was to be a man. Fortunately, we human beings have access to evolution and I can point to this record as the beginning of my own.