REVIEW: Alanis Morissette, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie
(Maverick)
- Bob Gajarsky
This, then, is what 1998 boils down to. The most anticipated album of the calendar year - if not for fans or critics, then for many in the music industry - has been ordained to pick up a lagging sales year. Sixteen million albums sold on your adult debut (we'll not count the Tiffany-meets-Jody Watley Canadian years) will put those kind of pressures on a person.
For Alanis Morissette, this kind of attention is much more significant than any from days gone by on Nickelodeon's "You Can't Do That On Television". After the success of Jagged Little Pill blew away all expectations and made a passing reference to oral sex in one of the hit singles of 1995 ("You Oughta Know"), Alanis had the music world at her feet. Cultural causes were embraced, from Tibetan freedom to a backpack trek around India. These causes - and subsequent introspection - become the basis for much of Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie.
The first single, "Thank U", pays homage to those jaunts. 'Shukri-ya', if you will, to the land of Gandhi. Despite a repetitive set of lyrics (which again is indicative of Junkie), "Thank U" represents enough of a departure from the programmed drums to show that Alanis is taking the next step in that long musical path.
Middle-Eastern musical influences which first surfaced in "Uninvited" (curiously omitted from Junkie) pop up all over this disc. "The Couch" doesn't reach the high points of the track from City of Angels , but does initially tip its hat in that general direction. Sinister backing keyboards and drums back "UR" and "I Was Hoping", dispelling rumours of a sophomore jinx. And fans of "You Oughta Know" will appreciate the slower, funkier sound of the leadoff track "Front Row".
Morrissette's lyrics provide a paradox for the listener. On one hand, her songs tackle subject matters and offer insights far beyond her years. The Dylanesque poetry of "I Was Hoping", where she refrains herself from telling off an obsequious waiter who ignored her that "I could buy and sell this place so kiss it" shows a maturity which has bypassed many in the rap community. And the rest of the album contains deeper looks into relationships and self-confidence than have any right to be in a four minute song. Morissette either has an incredible ability to write songs through other people's bodies, or presents us with a painful autobiographical journey through her thought process and is crying out for help.
Many of the songs, however, drift back into a simple structure where they use repetitive phrases or ideas to a point of absurdity. "Are You Still Mad" is the start of almost every line of that song; "That I Would Be Good" includes the first four words on every line of its structure, and even "Thank U" has a childish way of starting each line.
Morissette's spoken/singing technique - which draws people to either love her or hate her - offers mixed results. On the spoken verse, sung chorus of "Joining You", Alanis gets it just right, as her unusual accentuation - not only by syllable, but word and sentence - brings the song out of the dull landscape surrounding the end of Junkie.
But, at seventeen songs and 71 minutes, Junkie drags on 30 minutes too long. "Baba" becomes a lightning rod for what happens when a song better left on the cutting room floor gets pressed onto disc. Poorly mixing out of synch feedback with guitars and vocals, this is something Yoko Ono might consider good. And, in the end, that's a bad thing - no matter what John might have thought while he was with us.
Alanis Morissette was granted a tremendous amount of creativity with Suppsed Former Infatuation Junkie consistent with the sales of her previous album. And although Junkie lasts a bit longer than it should, there are enough creative moments here to justify a continued look at the enigma known as Alanis.
