News: Tori Amos/Patrick Wolf Feature in The Advocate

Blonds are flighty, brunets are sensible, and redheads strong-willed and crazy. Or so stereotypes would have us believe. Neither Tori Amos nor Patrick Wolf puts much stock in conventional attitudes, yet each has carved out a niche as distinctive as their carrot-topped counterparts Aphrodite, Napoleon Bonaparte, and Peppermint Patty.

Dane sent us a scan of this article, called “Scarlet Fever,” from the May 8, 2007 issue of The Advocate. While it manages to get several things incorrect, it’s still pretty fun. Almost as fun as being a redhead is.

Scarlet Fever
Patrick Wolf is becoming Tori Amos, and Tori has become five different versions of herself
by Kurt B. Reighley

Blonds are flighty, brunets are sensible, and redheads strong-willed and crazy. Or so stereotypes would have us believe. Neither Tori Amos nor Patrick Wolf puts much stock in conventional attitudes, yet each has carved out a niche as distinctive as their carrot-topped counterparts Aphrodite, Napoleon Bonaparte, and Peppermint Patty.

Detractors have called Tori Amos cuckoo since she burst into the mainstream 15 years ago. Love or hate her, she possesses a strength of character bordering on bulletproof, and ingenuity to spare. On her ninth studio album Amos composed and performs her songs from five distinctive points of view, each belonging to a persona who emobies various aspects of femininity — symbolizing her feeling that modern life forces women to compartmentalize.

The songs of American Doll Posse definitely emphasize different flavors, but for all the album’s conceptualizing, a scorecard isn’t required to enjoy it. The variegated program is consistently strong, especially the first third. The disc opens with the stark and pointed “Yo George,” then quickly progresses through a Southern rocker with a hint of New Orleans second-line shuffle (“Big Wheel”), a whirling modern rocker (“Bouncing Off Clouds”), and ‘70s glam-tinged stomp (“Teenage Hustler”) (sic) that evokes vintage David Bowie.

That last comparison seems especially apt, given not only Amos’s chameleon antics throughout but also the rabid devotion she inspires. The assorted biblical references (Amos is a preacher’s daughter) sprinkled in the lyrics of songs like “Dark Side of the Sun” should prompt even curious agnostics and pagans to consult Wikipedia and divine additional meanings.

Patrick Wolf hails from the United Kingdom, where his kind is politely called “eccentric.” But he is every inch as idiosyncratic in his own right. When other lads were trying out for youth soccer, Wold was hanging out with performance artist Leigh Bowery’s band Minty and building his first theremin (the kooky electronic instrument audible in many ‘50s sci-fi flicks).

A bleached blond on his 2003 debut, Lycanthropy, and a raven-haired beauty circa his second album (_Wind in the Wires_, 2005), Wolf has colored his locks Kool-Aid crimson for The Magical Position (sic). This fun yet phony hue highlights his stance as an upstart who crafts art with a capital A, and so does his take on pop music. Wolf sings in a theatrical warble while mixing baritone ukelele and violin with clattering electronic beats.

The 23-year-old marries the whole mishmash into modern love songs as unpredictable (yet uplifting) as their inspiration. “Augustine” is a rapturous tumble, while “Enchanted,” with its simple piano and upright bass arrangement, plays like a gentle fractured jazz standard. He often willfully disrupts a mood with a burst of dissonance, but he also knows when to sustain one to maximum effect, as on “Magpie,” a confessional duet with Marianne Faithfull.

If either album has a shortcoming, it is brevity — or, rather, its absence. Both would benefit slightly from some judicious pruning, especially Doll Posse, whose 68-minute (sic) running time might outstrip the patience of casual Amos fans (if such people exist). But these are small quibbles. Both these souls are the type who can demand, and receive, maximum artistic control — right down to the occasional misstep.