I’ve written recently about music being emotion. Some of my music collection is emotion on tap. iPods are portable emotions. Emotions kept in electronic vials; random access mind altering drugs.

I listened to Tori Amos’ first (proper) album Little Earthquakes on Monday (whilst watching snooker on television – I can do this and pay attention to both). Twelve years after its release I think I’ve finally understood it. A collection documenting missed opportunities, regrets, mistakes, wrong doings, being wronged, but most of all the transcendence of life. All ‘little earthquakes’ aside from the massive life altering autobiographical earthquake of Me and a Gun. So there’s the so-painful-it-hurts-me Winter. The joyful Happy Phantom. The blooming Silent all These Years. Despite, or because of this, it feels like being hugged by a particularly amorous duvet.

Album review
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