Number 10 of 2005 — Fiona Apple: Extraordinary Machine
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I’ll make the most of it, I’m an extraordinary machine
This could sum up the past few years of Fiona Apple Maggart’s professional life, given the trials and the gestation of this album. Extraordinary Machine first launched itself onto the internet in March 2005, having been completed in May 2003. Allegedly Sony weren’t happy with the recordings and shelved it because they couldn’t hear a single, and believed sales wouldn’t justify the costs of promoting and distributing it. The version that made its way onto the internet was from the master tapes (maybe slightly tweaked) from the original sessions, recorded with producer Jon Brion.
Thanks to the publicity gained through the FreeFiona campaign, the album was officially released in October 2005. At the time, the reason given for the delay was that Fiona Apple wasn’t happy with the version originally delivered to Sony. So, no conspiracy. Surely.
Two tracks were retained from the ‘bootleg’ version – nine others were re-recorded with producer Mike Elizondo, with the addition of one new song. Extraordinary Machine, Fiona’s third album, follows six years after When the Pawn Hits the Conflicts He Thinks Like a King What He Knows Throws the Blows When He Goes to the Fight and He’ll Win the Whole Thing ‘Fore He Enters the Ring There’s No Body to Batter When Your Mind Is Your Might So When You Go Solo, You Hold Your Own Hand and Remember That Depth Is the Greatest of Heights and if You Know Where You Stand, Then You Know Where to Land and if You Fall It Won’t Matter, ‘Cuz You’ll Know That You’re Right. It ended up being her most commercially successful album. Go figure.
Extraordinary Machine launches the album. It’s one of the original tracks. Musically it inhabits a weird 18th century circus where everyone stands in front of those bendy mirrors and visits the freek shows. Ornate, extravagant, but strangely alluring. However, Get Him Back follows, introducing listeners to what is the typical Fiona sound, including her stompy piano playing which works well on a track that documents past relationships, winding itself up throughout the course of the song underpinned by the circular key changes, and the occasional delayed vocals. It’s witty: both musically and lyrically playful. As you may have guessed already, Fiona loves words.
I don’t know who listens to music at Sony. Perhaps they don’t know what music is? I ask this because of O’ Sailor. Moody and utterly gorgeous, it seems like a follow-on from Get Him Back. Fiona “also saved myself, by never believing you, Dear”. The beauty of the song doesn’t reveal itself until the first chorus, and you just know it’s coming back again. Then there’s the break. It’s a definite single. You stupid Sonypeople.
Better Version of Me starts pushing the play a little further. Some songs, heck, some albums, require you to become completely familiar with them before they show you their beauty. Even more so on Tymps (The Sick In The Head Song). If you know the song back to front, you can sing along to it, even through the brilliant rhythmic pauses and run-ins of Fiona’s singing. Hey! Handclaps! Which are one of my favourite things in recorded sound.
But it can’t possibly keep on like this. And it doesn’t. Parting Gift, the new song, is a piano ballad, slowing things down, demonstrating the balance that there is between the instrument and Fiona’s vocals. This song also shows the striking difference between Fiona and her peers and influences, illustrating that her music lies more in her vocals than in her piano. Tori Amos would probably never write a song like this – she’d want more piano.
Window and Oh Well just don’t work. Yes, they’re accomplished pieces of music, but now I know the album, I just sit, listening to them, waiting for when the more bouncy Please Please Please turns up with its rant on anesthetized society or maybe Sony: “Give us something familiar, something similar / To what we know already / That will keep us steady / Steady / Steady / Steady / Steady going nowhere”. Red Red Red follows. A lazy piece of titling or sequencing. It doesn’t matter – it’s got an upright bass in it. The synth strings provide the ambience on which the song builds – shuffling yet steady. A song to ponder on. Fortunately, Not About Love veers, drunkenly, from its jazz beginnings to a racing finale, setting the listener up for the final track. Waltz (Better Than Fine) is the second remnant of the original recordings, musically caught up in a set-changing interlude. It doesn’t work as a final track – Red Red Red would have been better – thus the album leaves me with the wrong impression.
There are therefore a few tracks to criticise, but it’s undeniable that this version of Extraordinary Machine is the better one. Actually, it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t – it’s the one Fiona wanted to release. And, yes, you’ll find people who prefer the bootleg. But they write for Pitchfork, so it’s their job to be contrary. I just plainly believe this to be Fiona’s best album. Whilst not as striking as Tidal or as indulgent as When the Pawn… it shows a burgeoning maturity in her remarkable career.
