Little Earthquakes

iTunes Review

When Tori Amos chose the title for this 1992 album, she clearly underestimated its impact. Toppling the Richter Scale, Little Earthquakes, made most of the confessional records before it seem like big fat lies. Whether it's the terrifyingly a cappella, "Me and a Gun," (in which Amos tells the story of her rape), the questioning and combative "Crucify," or the quiet epiphanies of "Silent All These Years", these songs speak of complex and often ugly truths. When Amos sings, she doesn't just remember her experiences but relive them. Her voice-a breathy smoldering inferno-bonds to her melodies as if the two are engaged in a perpetual life-or-death game tug-of-war. Wearing her Kate Bush influences proudly, Amos's stunning piano arrangements sometimes rush into lush orchestrations as if they've been waiting to break loose. But the power of this record extends beyond the ornate beauty of its songs. No record did more to offer promise to a generation of women songwriters, and more importantly, to a generation of women, who found in Amos's voice the strength to release their own.