Tori Amos's Musical Memories

It seems totally logical—if not actually inevitable—that Tori Amos would eventually write a musical. Over the last two decades, the singer and composer has created work that exists in its own rarefied universe. Her music is often character-driven, populated by winding narratives in which Amos herself serves as both muse and guide. It is these talents that Amos brings to her musical The Light Princess, which made its debut at London's National Theatre in 2013 to great acclaim. Based on the 19th-century fairy tale by George Macdonald, the musical tells the story of a prince and a princess, who each lost their mother at a young age. The young prince becomes so forlorn that he is unable to ever smile, while in another kingdom a young princess becomes so light with her own grief that she floats into the air. Balancing the whimsy of a floating heroine with heavier themes regarding grief and rebellion, The Light Princess feels both remarkably contemporary and incredibly prescient. Though it remains to be seen when a full-scale production of the musical will arrive stateside (Amos hints that plans are afoot), the original cast recording was released earlier last month—a beautifully-packaged disc that includes two songs from the musical performed by Amos herself. 

Callum Turner

When first speaking with Callum Turner in person, it's hard not to be hypnotized. The 25-year-old English actor and model has the effusive, unassuming charm and awkward good looks that make him believable as a wistful young soldier, a terrorized punk rocker, or a married woman's paramour—all roles in which he's recently excelled. Meeting up at a quiet bar in Brooklyn, Turner exudes the unbridled enthusiasm of someone just coming into his own as an artist. "Today was so surreal," he says. "I'm in New York City, and I spent the day floating around in a pool with my clothes on. Now I'm here with you in a bar, and later I'll try to learn to speak Polish for my next movie role. Like, what is this? What's happening?"

Joanna Newsom On Moving Rocks, Annotating Lyrics, And Playing The Hits

Given the nature of her work — the intricate arrangements; the complicated, often byzantine lyrics; the harp; that extraordinarily wild voice — it’s not surprising that Joanna Newsom has managed to engender such a devoted fan base. She is the very definition of a “singular” artist — someone whose work is totally unmistakable as belonging to anyone else. Over the course of three increasingly challenging full-length releases, Newsom has risen from the ranks of twee freak-folkster to something resembling a kind of rarefied rock stardom (or as close as one can come to such a thing in the world of indie rock). Her last record, 2010’s Have One On Me, was a three-disc behemoth of beautifully knotty songs about love and friendship and the occasional jackrabbit, which was somehow still less challenging than 2006’s Ys, her Van Dyke Parks-arranged extravaganza that boasted songs that regularly twirled past the 10-minute mark and pushed Newsom’s love of winding narratives to dizzying new levels. This being said, Newsom’s music, while always fascinating, is admittedly not for everyone. Her work should ostensibly be the kind of material destined only to guarantee lifetime status as a cult figure, but for whatever reasons — her uncanny charisma and profound talent among them — people have been willing to follow Joanna Newsom wherever she has seen fit to go. Her new album, Divers, should only deepen her fan base. The record is no less ornate than previous efforts, but with only 11 tracks, it’s a much more digestible affair. The production is predictably lush (including contributions from Nico Muhly and Dave Longstreth), and the songs still sprawl in a million fascinating directions, roaming across narratives involving everything from pearl divers and goose eggs to ancient tobacco settlements. However, there is a clarity of vision and a heightened melodicism at play on Divers that makes the record slightly easier to tackle than her last two releases, even though the repeated listens and slow process of unpacking is often what makes Joanna Newsome records so fascinating.

The Roundabout Road To Neon Indian's Decadent New Album

Neon Indian’s Alan Palomo lost what was originally supposed to become his third album. Actually, he didn’t lose it per se; it was stolen from him three years ago (vis a vis his laptop) after he drunkenly fell asleep on his own Brooklyn stoop while locked out of his apartment. It’s a story that, when I bring it up, Palomo seems already exhausted of telling, but he’s quick to point out that there’s actually a happy ending. “I don’t advocate passing out in public,” he says, “but I can see now that losing that stuff was, in the bigger picture, actually a good thing. I wouldn’t have ended up making this kind of record if I’d kept on going like I was. I needed a real break.”

Q&A: Super-Producer Glen Ballard On Jagged Little Pill, “Man In The Mirror,” & His Other Classic Recordings

Given that the wave of ’90s nostalgia seems to be cresting right about now, it’s only fitting that one of that decade’s most successful and culturally ubiquitous records — Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill — is now getting the proper reissue treatment. Released in 1995, when Alanis was still an unknown here in the States, the record currently ranks among the best-selling albums of all time, having sold more than 33 million copies. Not only did the record bless us with singles that, for better or worse, will forever be a part of popular consciousness — “You Oughta Know” “Ironic,” “You Learn,” “Hand In My Pocket” — it opened the floodgates for a slew of other female solo artists who would shape the latter half of that decade. Would we have had Meredith Brooks’ “Bitch” or Paula Cole’s “I Don’t Want To Wait” without Alanis? Would Sarah McLachlan have ever gotten Lilith Fair off the ground in 1997 if Alanis hadn’t basically smashed the roof off pop culture just a couple years before? Listening to it now, it’s hard to believe that Jagged Little Pill is an album that almost wasn’t. Written when Morissette was still a teenager and rejected by almost every record label at the time, the album — which was written and produced with legendary producer and studio whiz Glen Ballard — is the kind of unlikely (ironic?) success story that becomes the stuff of legend.