By Rashod D. Ollison , rashod.ollison@baltsun.com|September 21, 2008
Her rage brought her worldwide fame, multiplatinum sales and Grammy Awards.
With 1995's Jagged Little Pill, Alanis Morissette paired explicit, angry lyrics with grunge-laced pop-rock that echoed her bitterness. The once-innocuous Canadian dance-pop star managed to strike a chord with a generation and become an unlikely superstar. Vitriolic smashes such as "You Oughta Know," "You Learn" and "Ironic" became anthems.
Now thirteen years later, after five albums that more or less recast her as an even-tempered romantic, Morissette still can't escape that "angry girl" image.
"Well, if I'm going to be one-dimensionalized, it's an honor to be considered angry, because anger has been swept under the carpet so much with regards to women that it's flattering," says the singer-songwriter, who headlines Lyric Opera House on Tuesday.
On Flavors of Entanglement, Morissette's new album released in June, the artist explores anger again. This time, though, the emotionality of her songs is more nuanced. In 1995, Morissette was a sophomoric 19-year-old venting cyclonic rage over surging rock guitars. But today her complex, sometimes mystifying lyrics are underpinned by a strong sense of self-affirmation. The music now is murkier than before, swirling with silvery electronic textures and bolstered by flinty beats.
To craft the almost impenetrable sound of Flavors, Morissette enlisted electronica producer Guy Sigsworth, probably best known for his work with Imogen Heap as part of the British duo Frou Frou.
"I think that Guy brought a very technological aspect to the soundscape of this record," Morissette says. "I love taking all the different genres of music that I love and squishing them into one moment as best as I can without creating a train wreck, although those are fun, too."
Though perhaps more sonically adventurous than her previous albums, Flavors, like most of Morissette's work, remains lyrically insular. A dark cloud hovers over the album as she explores anger and regret. Cuts such as the searing "Straitjacket" and the self-reflective "Torch" and "Moratorium" clearly deal with heartbreak. The set differs drastically from Morissette's last album, 2004's So-Called Chaos, which glowed with romantic, lovestruck sentiments. She looked contented on the album cover - smiling, her hair blown in her face. But on the front of Flavors, the artist looks stern-eyed beyond the camera with no trace of a smile.
