Poetry is dead.
At least in the traditional sense. The prospect of a writer publishing a collection of poems and managing to become famous for it is ludicrous in our day and age. No one reads books of modern poetry.
And can you blame then? Why bother trudging through a body of work when slam poetry and music exist? Why write poetry for others to read in silence when you can sing it and set it to a soundtrack?
Before the big boom of social media and celebrity trash news via TMZ, there was a period in the 1980s and 1990s where it was not only abnormal, but condemned to be openly naked about one’s personal life in a record. Pop music had to be third-person omnipotent dribble.
That all changed with one 18-year old girl with the figure of a crane and the cry of an eagle.
Fiona Apple is probably the most influential pop artist of the 1990s that almost nobody has heard about.
“Tidal,” Apple’s debut album that turned 20 years old July 23, broke the curse of non-personalized mainstream music. It was a case of modern leech therapy where she allowed the music to suck away all the regret, heartbreak, vengeance, sexual frustration and bitterness inside her.
Such a dismal combination crafts a record that doesn’t linger with sadness, but is drowned in the deepest abyss of pure uncensored melancholia.
Never does it come across as forced or edgy either. Apple doesn’t pretend to be acquainted with depression for some sort of commercial success. As she has stated in many interviews, she could give a damn less about commercial appeal. That’s why she has only released four albums in 20 years.
No, Apple is beyond acquainted with the illness. It’s her best friend, her enemy, her lover, her cheater, her savior and her executioner.
Such understanding creates songs like “Sullen Girl,” which recounts the rape she suffered at the age of 12, or “Criminal,” which explores the guilt a people can feel for manipulating others using their sexuality.
This no-fear attitude isn’t just a façade for her music, either. This she proved by basically committing career suicide Sinéad O’Connor-style with her MTV Video Music Awards speech in 1997, where she boldly declared, “This world is bullshit.”
That takes courage. How many stars today would even dare pulling a stunt like that?
Her audacity makes some of the greatest lyrics ever heard on any record since the 1960s with the Beatles and Dylan.
“What I need is a good defense / ‘Cause I’m feelin’ like a criminal.”
“You can’t illuminate what time has anchored down.”
“And I’m building memories / On things we have not said.”
“When I’m strong like music.”
Even after more than two decades in the business, Apple still hasn’t received half the gratitude and stardom she deserves. However, we as fans have to ask ourselves whether or not stardom is always gratifying. Amy Winehouse was also a superstar, and we know how that tragically worked out for her.
Whatever happens, I think it’s safe to assume the once sullen girl turned extraordinary machine will wholeheartedly make the most of it.
afaulds@indiana.edu | @a_faulds15
