If you're like me, you've been wondering whatever happened to Fiona Apple. The tiny little songstress with the smokey eyes and waifish posture has been incognito for eons. I remember her cute little rant during the MTV video awards. I remember her you-should-feel-somewhat-guilty-for-being-turned-on-by-this video for "Criminal."
Anyway. So Mark Morford, my favorite columnist and honorary owner of one of my ovaries, has the scoop here. Apparently Sony shelved her latest oeuvre - Extraordinary Machine - created two years ago because there wasn't a "hit." Not "radio friendly." Nevermind that it quite possibly may be, oh, I don't know --- artistic?
Apparently this album of Fiona's is out on the internet, available for download somewhere. I haven't gotten around to downloading it yet, but I'm gonna. Because to me, Fiona is the consummate artist. She writes, she plays the piano, she's moody, she's quirky, she's just ... real. And I miss her.
I could go off about how big record label conglomerates are effectively watering down artistic talent to its most accessible, its most mediocre forms. But I won't. You all know that already.