Tori Amos - Interviews Archive

Forbes
May 7, 2020

Tori Amos On Politically Charged New Memoir 'Resistance'

by Jim Ryan

Tori Amos released her second book 'Resistance: A Songwriter's Story of Hope, Change and Courage' on May 5, 2020 via Atria Books

In her second book, the new Resistance: A Songwriter's Story of Hope, Change and Courage, the song lyrics and prose of Tori Amos combine to drive the narrative of a memoir that reflects upon formative moments, while addressing polarizing contemporary topics.

It's a book that looks at life, death, history and current events through the prism of song. Active listening is critical and events like teenage performances at bars in Washington D.C. pair alongside 2014 concert experiences in Russia to inform Amos' worldview amidst life in America following the 2016 election of Donald Trump.

Amos writes about the importance of music following 9/11 and a round trip drive from New York to Florida, to appear as David Letterman's first musical guest following the attacks, looms large.

The artist examines how situations can be exploited to diminish liberty, freedom and more, elsewhere writing that "collective trauma is its own energy." Subjects like propaganda and misinformation are tackled and, while the book was written prior to the coronavirus pandemic, it nevertheless contains eerily prescient moments.

I spoke with Tori Amos about Resistance, the role of the artist during divisive times, the power of music and more. A transcript of our phone conversation, lightly edited for length and clarity, follows below...

The folk tradition is one defined by its socially conscious approach to the world. We saw that with music in the 60s and 70s. Punk was there as a check on Reagan in the 80s and musicians strongly addressed the Iraq War. But I feel like we see it less today. Some artists who've spoken out have paid a price. You tackle the world head on in this book. How important was it to do that?

Tori Amos: You're either called to do that or you're not - or you are and you decide you don't want to stick your neck above the parapet. But I've been documenting difficult subjects for about thirty years now. They're different subjects but it's there in the records in the songs. So it seemed as if it was imperative to talk about democracy - and do we want one?

You write in the intro to Resistance about the politicization of the world - how situations can be exploited to diminish liberty, freedom, artistic expression, etc. Elsewhere, you write that "collective trauma is its own energy." I feel like we're seeing that today amidst this pandemic. What's at risk right now, especially in the run up to one of the most important elections in American history?

Amos: Yes, we are.

The Russians... When I was there in 2014, and I talk about it in the book, talked about psychological warfare - technological warfare actually - and how they had to resist propaganda on a daily basis. There's a barrage of it. And they taught me how they did it. They really had to ask themselves the questions and then find ways of getting information that they would test drive so that they could trust it.

And realizing that any of us can be groomed - maybe not a political journalist because some can't if that's your field - but I believe that most of us can be groomed. And, in different ways, the Russians and the people at the shows were trying to teach me that.

They also tried to talk to me about despondency. When you're feeling overwhelmed by collective trauma, it can push us into a place of giving up - and just mental and emotional fatigue. Along with not seeing the light at the end of the tunnel - when you just don't know what the future is going to hold.

So, yes. I think that people can play on those concerns and anxieties and fears, especially at a time like this.

You expounded upon the exchange of true compassion you experienced in America after 9/11, making the drive from New York to Florida and back. Specifically, you hit on the idea that, at that point, there didn't seem to be the issue of north/south. It was a less divisive time. What changed to get us where we are today? Because I'd argue that twenty years later, during this pandemic, maybe we're not seeing that...

Amos: The word "divisive," it does feel like that.

Who's controlling the narrative? And that's the battle. That's been the battle, really, for quite a while now. And I saw the seeds of that - where I was aware of it - during the 1980 election with one of the Koch brothers running on the Libertarian ticket for Vice President. And the war rooms that I talk about off the K Street corridor [in Washington, D.C.] being built for academicians and think tanks to control the story - to be driving the story. And we can see it happening right before our eyes right now. Right before our eyes.

My sister is a doctor and she cannot believe that there are people - there are even people in our family - that are against vaccinations. And she tries to explain the epidemiology, which of course, I can't understand. But she thought that after something like this that people would realize the importance of science and vaccines.

So, yes. You can see how subjects are being hijacked and the narratives are being controlled - and politicized. You wrote in the book that, "the most important skill a songwriter needs is to be able to listen." You explore the idea that what isn't said is just as important as what is. And I feel like we see that playing out on a daily basis. How important is that idea at this particular moment in history?

Amos: Listening is a skill. And it's something that I find I really have to work at.

I don't know if you notice this - we're not really able to see each other like we would if we were sitting and doing an interview across from each other having a cup of tea.

But sometimes when somebody else is talking, it doesn't mean the other person is listening. Sometimes it means they're formulating what they're going to say next and they're not really listening - which means they're not present. Which means their mind is already made up. It's an exercise where we're kidding each other that "I'm open to change." Because I've already made up my mind. Instead of, "Wait a minute. If before I started this conversation with this person, am I open? Am I listening so that I might hear something I haven't heard before, which then might get me to start researching and drilling down that idea and putting it on the scales against Maat's feather in mythology?" That's what you would hope. That's what listening can be about.

When I listen to people that come to the shows and they tell me their perceptions, yeah, it can point me in a direction that I hadn't really thought about before. It might turn into a song.

I think where I developed that ability to listen early on was having music in the classroom. I was fortunate enough to grow up with both music and art in the classroom in grade school. Certainly, you grew up with music from an early age. But that's one of the first things we see cut today from the American curriculum. Are you a proponent of music and arts in the classroom?

Amos: Oh, absolutely. And I think it's tragic that it's cut or is being cut. And it makes you have to ask the question why?

It gives you something that I don't know if anything else does. Because it's its own language - it's a universal language. And you're able to communicate with people even if you cannot speak their native tongue. So, having that skill, what it teaches a person, I don't know where else you can really learn it.

And then being able to harmonize together - being able to create together and collaborate in that way. And another thing, it's something that a person can also do on their own. They don't have to have a playmate. You can. But you can play your instrument on your own, maybe to process. I think it's an incredible tool to have that has been devalued.

Or, maybe people do understand the empowerment that music can give you and don't want an empowered population.

You have to test drive both of those thoughts. You have to. You write in the book about the way venues were dark after 9/11 for a week or so. They've been dark now for about two months following the onset of COVID-19. You wrote eloquently about the value of music during that time and the need to go out on tour to, as you put it, "bear witness" and kind of figure out how people were feeling. What's it like for you as an artist without even having that option right now, especially with no real answer as to when it will return?

Amos: Well, there is a level of grief. I've been doing it a long time now and it's one of the most eye-opening experiences I have when I'm out there city to city getting a sense of what people are really feeling and thinking and what they're going through.

And then sharing that communal space. I think concerts can be a sacred form of sharing with each other - especially if you're collaborating with your audience and you're taking on some of their requests and you're designing the setlist every night. Because you're reflecting what you've learned that day. So it's very active - the audience is an active participant. That's really exciting. Because we're creating together.

So I don't think anything can do that. I don't think beyond live anything can do exactly that. Even if you have an interactive way of giving a virtual concert.

You get into the setlist in the book as well. I think today people see these massive, high production tours hit the road, where the show is the same every night, and assume that setlists never change. Obviously, your show is not that. Structuring that setlist to cater to each city and each audience based upon your experiences leading up to showtime, how important is that?

Amos: It is a different show each night. So the audience isn't ahead of you - where the audience can be ahead of you if they know what's coming. They can be. That doesn't mean they don't enjoy it - but it is a different experience not knowing where the story is going. And that means you can react to what you've learned that day and what that particular city, what those issues are.

And every city is different. Every city is processing different issues. They just are. There might be a theme that's running through some with something like this or with something like 9/11 but still there's a uniqueness to each city and there are events happening in each city. One might've experienced an earthquake or fires or what have you two weeks prior, so you're dealing with that. Or there might've been a kidnapping or something that the city is very interested in. Or there's been possibly, unfortunately, an attack. So you have to answer to that.

I remember playing in Norway not long after the terrible mass murders of the children on I think it was the island [of Utoya] - the mass murders [in 2011]. But it was clear after doing a meet and greet that day that people were not ready to hear a song such as "Winter." It's about a father, a grandfather and a child and the child growing up and realizing the gift and the insight of the grandfather and the father. And they were just not ready to have that conversation. The pain and grief was too raw still. They were in the middle of their pain.

So sometimes you just have to know where your audience can go, and where they're not ready to go, and you have to really listen to gauge that. Tori Amos Performs At Le Grand Rex 8

Coming back to the word "divisive." I feel like the role of the artist has evolved, as of course it should. What, to you, is the role of the artist during times like these?

Amos: Well, artists see things very differently - no different than people. I think that artists have an ability to document what people are going through in a different way than, say, a journalist or a political journalist, where they're trying to hunt down facts. Artists, a lot of times, are trying to hunt down that emotion - or the thinking behind someone's actions. Or the state they find themselves in.

So telling stories through songs, and getting those stories to give someone something - whether it's an awareness of where they really are, and that they need to understand they're in a depressed state, or light that fire within them to get out of, and we're back to this word, despondency. Which is one of the most dangerous things that I think is happening to many people.

With the messages that I'm getting from around the world, it's this overwhelming sadness that people are going through, of light they feel is gone that they experienced, say, New Year's Eve. But that world? People don't know when they're going to have the world that we just had a few months ago again. And so it's coming to terms with that.

And not everyone is ready to adapt yet. What is the new normal going to be? What is our world going to look like? We don't exactly know. And it will affect different people in different sectors differently.

So, how artists document this time, each one will do it in a different way. Because that's their art form. We don't always tackle issues at all in the same way.

I grew up certain in my belief that music could change the world. Does it still have the power to do that?

Amos: I think it's one of the most powerful forms of art. Because there's a magic to it. It's not an illusion. Many magicians, most of them, I reckon, would say they're great illusionists. Music isn't an illusion: it's collecting from the ether and bringing it down into this three-dimensional form.

So, yeah. I think it's pure magic.

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