By wpengine March 15, 2002
In an era of adolescent pop star lyrics and teenage singers pining over their latest high school crushes, Canadian musician Alanis Morissette returns with her third studio album, revitalizing the genre of passionate femme-rock. Written and produced independently under the Maverick recording label, Under Rug Swept, was created with the autonomous spirit that Alanis infuses into each of her songs. Renowned for her angry emotive lyrics of past singles, such as “Right Through You,” Alanis has adhered to her feminine ideals, but has decided to curb some of the man-bashing in several of her songs on this album in lieu of more introspective ways of dealing with former lovers. As her melodic tirades traverse the album, they include every element from relatively upbeat hopes for future relationships to lamenting expressions of pain that have accumulated from previous experiences. Ranging from pensive to enlightened, from morose to joyous, from nostalgic to bittersweet, Alanis has managed to leave no emotion “under rug swept.” The debut single from this album, “Hands Clean” has become a national chart-topper in the legacy of her other hit singles, such as “You Oughta Know” off her debut album, Jagged Little Pill. In “Hands Clean,” Alanis passionately sings about a past lover, who had been rumored to have sexually assaulted her. In evaluation of her lyrics, it seems that Alanis has used her album as an outlet for her pained past as her chorus states: “and I have honored your request for silence/ and you’ve washed your hands clean of this.” Her album begins with the melodic wish list of “21 Things I Want in a Lover,” a song that relinquishes her angry femme diatribes to the more poppy discussion of “not necessarily needs but qualities that I prefer.” Adhering to her individuality, she expresses “I’m in no hurry I could wait forever/ I’m in no rush cuz I like being solo.” She then angrily resides in the tradition of femme stars, Tori Amos and Fiona Apple, in the second track “Narcissus” which, with electronic undertones, becomes a psychoanalytic harangue of a “momma’s boy,” a “show-me boy,” an “egotist boy,” a “self-centered boy.” Alanis rides the harmonious swell of her album into more sedated, but nonetheless equally powerful and poignant ballads. Tracks such as “That Particular Time” depart from her usual anthems of revenge against masculinity, and offers heartfelt and soul-searching lyrics of apology and explanation. Similarly, “Flinch” offers a retrospective theme, as Morissette tries to detach herself from the past. “Precious Illusions,” a track with a bit more momentum, also deals with escaping from the past: ” these precious illusions in my head/ did not let me down when I was defenseless/ and parting with them is like/ parting with invisible best friends.” Throughout the album, Morissette explores not only her ability to find a balance between her reputation as an ultra-femme heroine of man-haters and the natural tendencies of human vulnerability, but she finds a balance between different styles of musicality. The range of her stylistic attempts is apparent towards the concluding tracks on the album. While the second-to-last track, “Surrendering,” is an upbeat, pop-rock tune in the vein of other top-100 female artists, such as Jewel, the last track of the album delves into a musical sphere that Alanis had never before entered. High-pitched “Utopia” abandons her somewhat nasal style and embodies an almost Celtic lilt of ethereal tone in the tradition of groups like The Cranberries. With Enya-like messages of harmony, the chorus, “this is utopia this is my utopia/ this is my ideal my end in sight/ utopia this is my utopia/ this is my nirvana/ my ultimate” interjects a list of utopian ideals that seem entirely appropriate to our current international crisis. The last lines of her album are “we’d hold close and let go and know when to do which/ we’d release and disarm and stand up and feel safe.” The entire album embodies hints of self-reflective discovery and recovery from the pain that had supposedly been inflicted upon her in the past. In “So Unsexy,” her raspy lyrics proclaim, “oh these little rejections how they disappear quickly/ the moment I decide not to abandon me.” It is apparent that Alanis definitely did not abandon herself as she comes into her own with this eleven-track, self-produced, chart-topping album, complete with enhanced CD features, permitting registered access to Alanis’s secret web site. This album, in terms of Morissette’s linguistic originality, is definitely worth keeping from being “under rug swept.”Archived article by Barbara Seigel
By wpengine March 15, 2002
There’s something strange about The Boredoms. Actually, there’s a lot of strange things about this Japanese noise-rock band, but the one strange thing I have in mind is how they manage, in spite of all odds, to actually be good. Even stranger is that all their albums of tripped-out experimentation have been released on an American major-label (thanks mostly to Sonic Youth’s endorsement back in the early 90’s). Super Ae is The Boredoms’ jam album, a collection of 7 epic tracks that run through heavy metal, Zen chanting, musique concrete, prog-rock, and punk — often all in the same song. “Super Going” is a great example, starting with a surprisingly melodic guitar build-up and frontman Yamatsuka eYe’s repetitive nonsense syllables. Over its 12-minute length, the band patiently add on surprises like some electronic tinkering, bizarre trippy percussion, and a steady build to a rocking climax. This is by far the most restrained Boredoms release — veering away from the spastic freak-outs that marked older albums — but that doesn’t mean that it ever gets predictable. “Super Coming” starts as acoustic folk that gets distorted and devolves into an all-out riff-filled jam over which eYe frighteningly growls out an incomprehensible chant. “Super Are You” is closest to classic Boredoms material; it’s a traditional punk rock song except for the frenzied screaming and Zappa-esque percussion. Like all the best Boredoms material, this album veers back and forth across the line between grating and exciting. The difference on this record is that it is utterly consistent from start to finish, with not even one sloppy misstep. The freakiest band to con a major-label into a contract, The Boredoms — in direct rebuttal of their name — are always good for an album full of surprises.Archived article by Ed Howard