For close to 25 years, there hasn’t been a force in music that has come with as much ferocity as Fiona Apple. Often accompanied by nothing more than a piano, she has recreated the ballad, making it a place where her soul pours out as she attacks the media for being fake. She is looking for something purer in the world of expression, and you become mesmerized by what she finds. In the midst of a career that’s had many ups and downs, she has always used her albums as moments to reflect back on her life and wonder just what exactly was going on.
She is cerebral, ahead of her time in her willingness to explore her mental health through song. In interviews leading up to the release of “Fetch the Bolt Cutters,” her first album since “The Idler Wheel” in 2013, she discussed her difficulty with depression in vivid detail and how her personal life was shifting. She commented on the changing relationship she had with men and women in her life, and why certain moments still exist as these painful wounds.
Of course, everyone is sure to remember the bigger stories of these articles, notably how her relationship with Paul Thomas Anderson was caustic. There’s plenty to admire about somebody who has lived an unconventional life and come out with self-reflection that reminds us of ourselves, only heightened. This is her first album in a Me Too era, where everyone else has come forward and made sure that Harvey Weinstein and Bill Cosby remain behind bars. It’s one that feels meant for her to come clean about her traumas throughout life, taking down men in such an anthemic way.
But who is Fiona Apple in 2020? With seven years to acquire experience, she has claimed that her latest album has been in the works for years, never really amounting to an actual planned release. In fact, “Fetch the Bolt Cutters” was originally planned for a Fall release, but Apple decided to forgo it, believing that she was above the petty marketing. It’s a noble truth that finally shows up as the album is unleashed with a fury that makes us concerned for the woman raging around her garage, recording songs that have become frequently less commercial the further into the album that it goes.
And yet it’s here that things begin to make sense. For those willing to go beyond the cries of a woman experimenting with her sound, evolving her identity into a chaotic yet spiritual experience, this is a masterpiece for a quarantine era. We’re trapped with nothing but our thoughts, giving us time to wonder what the future will really hold. In the realm of Apple, that’s a chance to reinvent her sound by having her dog bark in the background and banging on anything that sounds cool. Has she gone mad, or is she finally reaching a higher plane of peace with herself? By the end of the album, it’s the familiar feeling we’re all facing: we’re doing both at the exact same time.
A certain request when approaching this album is to invest in a good pair of headphones. Have it shipped overnight if you need to. The first notes of “I Want You to Love Me” are disorienting, first appearing in the left ear as this quiet, sluggish melody. As things begin to pick up, it fades from the unknown into something more conventional. There’s Apple on piano, playing a melody that’s sweet and familiar. Things are going steady, right?
Well… not exactly. That left ear music cue was no mistake. We are supposed to remain off guard for the rest of the album, being taken into a world that makes sense, but only in theory. As the song winds down, her fondness mixed with vitriol begins to find the piano fading. Her voice takes over and it becomes this splendiferous moment, like dozens of ideas rattling around in a trash can. The song drops out and we’re left with Apple chirping life a dolphin for some inexplicable reason. Every song has these moments, where it cuts to the abstract, but here it feels like she’s lost for words. What is even going on?
This isn’t a pop record, but a confessional elevated into something more vivid. It’s not meant to be pleasant, but the slow reconstruction of Apple’s mind. The music is only clear when her thoughts have found some level of peace, and even then it’s still a little off. This is cerebral and totally fits the title and artwork. Apple has fetched her bolt cutters and her own form of self-expression is finally allowed to run free. She doesn’t care anymore what people think of her. As she sings on “Under the Table”: “Kick me under the table all you want/I won’t shut up.”
It’s an alarming record and one that seems to encapsulate every phase of her life. In the second song “Shameika,” she confronts a bully from her youth. It’s a recurring theme that will continue to appear throughout the album. Apple is finding herself at odds with the women in the world, feeling intimidated and emotionally burdened by the social pressures. In the second song on the album, she sings to appear tough, like everything in her life is fine. Even from the person who keeps tearing her down, Shameika tells her that she has potential. The piano hits hard, low keys, rattling her with this news as she creates this tough exterior that informs the rest of the album. She is caged inside and those bolt cutters are going to make all of the difference in the world.
There’s the self-realization on “Relay” where she sings:
Evil is a relay sport
When the one who's burned
Turns to pass the torch
This is actually a lyric that she’s had since her teenage years, waiting to place into a proper song. It only adds to the weight of how things play out with the imagery of women competing against each other for dominance. The drums play like legs running a course, repetitive but with jerky motivation to get to the finish line. It’s a society that men have dictated for so long that Apple admits to it warping her own frame of reference. Still, she has moments like on “Rack of His” where she takes time to criticize the men who try to puff up their egos for trivial reasons.
There’s so much anger that informs the first half of the album, and it does plenty to create anxiety in the listener. These are experiences that aren’t uncommon, but they rarely have sounded this unpolished. Considering that they were recorded out of Apple’s garage and feel like she’s been locked in there for years, the cathartic screams make sense even if they’re at times unpleasant. This is a confrontational record as well as one attempting to heal the wounds of a culture that never let women be friends with anyone.
The big breakthrough comes on “Newspaper,” where suddenly Apple escapes the self and begins to look at her place in society. It’s probably the closest that the album comes to a more conventional verse-chorus-verse structure, and has excellent harmonies as she details a familiar Me Too story. She sees the struggles of other women in her life and begins to realize how they were pitted against each other. The doubling of vocals creates this unity of a frustrating message, believing that they’re stronger together. In the chorus, she sings:
And it's a shame because you and I didn't get a witness
We're the only ones who know
We were cursed the moment that he kissed us
From then on, it was his big show
The thing that makes this album especially charming is how underneath the chaos, there is this mix of commentary and self-actualization. This isn’t in many ways a vindictive record. Sure there are points where Apple is screaming so loud that it threatens to break the sound barrier, but her anger is forthright in unleashing repression that would’ve been dismissed prior to the Me Too Movement.
It’s a personal criticism of her own life, realizing that as much as she can blame the aggressor, she herself bought into the negative press. She was just as much a bully in her own life, falling into a depression on songs like the searing “Heavy Balloon.” She wants to atone for the errors of her ways, but it won’t come so easily. The healing is slow, and even as she sings like a peaceful lounge singer on “Ladies,” she has some distance between her and the audience. She is getting closer to something resembling happiness, but it can’t be that easy. Decades of self-criticizing every action come at a price.
The thing to keep in mind is that even when Apple is singing about the terrible things in the world, there is an optimism shining through. She finds the world changing, and it’s a welcomed change of pace. It helps that underneath the screeching is this deeper wit, making the sadness feel relatable like it’s just another state of being in our daily lives. We have to keep moving forward, not letting the bad things in life keep us down. Some of the humor is self-deprecating, but it’s largely the reflection of a smile breaking through this album’s frown. It’s beautiful, even if some may consider the face carrying it rough around the edges.
There’s plenty to ask about Apple when the record ends with “On I Go.” The song exists more like a chant, featuring a repeated phrase over and over three minutes.
On I go, not toward or away
Up until now it was day, next day
Up until now in a rush to prove
But now I only move to move
It doesn’t go down smooth, instead sounding tribal. Apple has called it a meditation of sorts, which makes sense given what has just been experienced. There is a feeling that every track has been sweated over, every pot and pan banged to the right level of vibration. One would even assume that she trained her dog to bark at just the right time. So much of this record fascinates in the ambiguity. Apple doesn’t care that this lacks a radio-friendly sound. Her days of singing ditties like “Criminal” are long past. Now she’s singing for herself, though she welcomes you to join along. She only moves to move now, itself a form of confidence that the opening song lacked.
Not everyone will like this record. It’s disorienting and often deals with tough subject matter. At one point she even sings “Well good morning/Good morning/You raped me in the same bed your daughter was born in.” (“For Her”) It’s such an icky line undone by her calmness at that moment (itself partially reminiscent of a friendlier song from Singin’ in the Rain (1952)). It’s a moment that stings with vulgar honesty, and the kind that this album is full of. It even has layers, ranging from autobiographical to depicting the complicated duality that women face. There is something cathartic about Apple saying things that are sometimes too uncomfortable to admit. That’s how this album plays, and if the tough subject matter is too much (especially when presented in an idiosyncratic prism), then this ride is going to be difficult.
Even by Fiona Apple standards, “Fetch the Bolt Cutters” feels like it’s going to take you through the wringer. At every turn, the album pulls you in with her confessions, her desire to amend for her terrible past behavior and become a better person. She takes victim-shaming to task, realizing that women have been dealt a terrible hand in this circumstance. The choice to make an album that paints female friendship in light of this as something healing balances out the darkness in unexpected ways.
In a moment where we’re all stuck inside, it’s a record that captures our shared quest to excise our demons while admitting that some are more difficult to tear away. Apple is out there looking for answers, and to present them in such a hangdog way is an inspired twist. It’s doubtful this record would work is she was calm and collected, producing another conventional song. It may have appealed to more audiences, but the point may have been completely lost.
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