"But she got through to me and I'll never see her again."
I am almost hilariously, painfully, behind on pop culture. Not that I ever was super on top of it anyway. I routinely ask people if they have seen or heard a piece of media I have just experienced and receive the kind of wide-eyed look I often reserve for the kinds of videos in which someone falls off a skateboard. “What?? How can you not have seen/heard xxxxx?” they gasp. Probably like dudes falling off skateboards.
This isn’t the moment where I whip out a soapbox to stand on; I have no “TV rots your brain, man” agenda here. In fact, my reasoning is dull. I just read books instead; books were my first love as a child so my free time is spent with them. I do watch TV, often weekends with my husband, blissfully stoned. We have more free time together on weekends so I chose to watch television then. Anyway, this isn’t about television; this is about finally, after nearly four years, listening to Fiona Apple’s 2020 release, Fetch the Bolt-Cutters. I recall it making the Top Ten lists of friends at the end of a very turbulent year, but I am of the 90s age where Fiona Apple was memorable for a very steamy video. Tidal is a legit good album, but that video overshadowed any further interest I had in her career.
“I move with the trees in the breeze/I know that time is elastic/and I know when I go/all my particles disband and disperse/and I’ll be back in the pulse…” – “I Want You to Love Me.”
2023 could be defined as Quite A Year. Mom received an Alzheimer’s diagnosis, my sister’s oldest child was battling mental health issues, and on top of that, I was jobless. Let’s just say I was definitely looking forward to 2024. Our household has a media server that holds all our music, movies, and television and a few weeks ago, I noticed we had a Fiona Apple playlist.
When you live in a very probably ADHD household, music catalogs of artists tend to be completist. Enter Fiona Apple. I saw we had all five of her albums and I proceeded to listen to every single one of them. They’re all baller albums–I had better appreciation for Tidal nearly twenty years later, but still don’t like “Criminal" at all–but by the time the record in question began and until its end, my jaw dropped. It was the message I needed to hear; it was a call to change that was meant for me.
Fiona Apple was telling me: don’t be someone else, be who you are, and who cares if it makes people upset?
“Kick me under the table all you want/I won’t shut up, I won’t shut up…” – “Under the Table.”
It’s a very raw album, all things considered. Recorded in Apple’s home over the span of four years, the sound of the album sounds naked and strange. She and the other musicians play in a very improvisational way, letting songs wind and wander where they need to. It’s terribly intimate; you feel like you’re in the room, watching friends make magic with instruments. Most tracks routinely feature the barking of Apple’s dog, and sometimes the percussion feels like the drummer has found the perfect trash can lid so why not? It is this closeness which enraptures me immediately.
The lyrics center around two things: Apple’s determination to “not be afraid to speak,” and her “complex social relationships with other women.” She withdraws herself from the idea that women must compete with each other. And with the track “Under the Table,” she sings poisonously at people who say odious things Apple will not let pass. It is precisely these themes, especially not being afraid to speak, that led me so deep into the songs. Her rage and softness mirrored my own: the unfairness of my mom’s illness, the reclaimed joy of a family relationship. So many feelings of sadness and joy swirled within me, and Apple’s tremulous voice gave words to so much of it. At 47, I was slowly uncovering myself, shedding layers of expectation, and it felt fucking great to have a soundtrack for it. And it still feels great.
Music is magic; music is a real-life time machine. It can heal and soothe. It can shake you awake. Listening to this album was a reminder to celebrate, even if you’re crying.
“And she’s trying to cut the cord/she’s tired of planting her knees on the hard,cold floor of facts/trying to act like the other girl acts…” – “For Her.”
I mentioned my five year mark being sober last week; it prompted me to promise myself to stop being scared, stop thinking small. I think of this record as proof I can keep those promises. In the rattle of maracas and crystalline chords of piano, it feels like The Tower tarot card, but in the best way. Razing that foundation, erasing what you no longer need, and laughing despite the ache.
Fetch the Bolt-Cutters is my new cri de coeur, the soundtrack to push and pull and fly through this year. There’s so much I can’t change but there’s also so much to savor, so much to embrace. While the title of the album takes its origin from BBC Northern Ireland tv show The Fall, Apple expounds further: “Fetch the fucking bolt-cutters and get yourself out of the situation you’re in.” Well, thanks to Fiona Apple, I am fetching the fucking bolt-cutters and getting myself out of the situation I’m in (metaphorically).
At this rate, I should be pop culture au courant sometime in 2028, but if a really good book comes out, I promise nothing. You’ll have to push it back to 2030.
“And I listened because I hadn’t found my own voice yet/so all I could hear was that noise that/people make when they don’t know shit/But I didn’t know that yet…” – Fetch the Bolt Cutters.