The music of Tori Amos, Fiona Apple, and Ani DiFranco swirled around me constantly during my college years. That’s what happens when the time frame in question is 1997-2002, you attend a liberal arts college, write for the student newspaper, and hang out with music and theater people.
However, I did NOT get what those three talented women were creating. In fact, I missed it on several levels:
- My musical roots were in gospel and classic rock.
- I was raised in a fundamentalist Pentecostal church
- My musical direction pointed toward alternative and indie rock – specifically of the emo variety.
- My sociopolitical beliefs were still very conservative and traditional.
Basically I was a straight white dude raised on loud guitar who made no attempt to understand or appreciate music not made by people just like me.
Twenty-plus years later, I’m completely aware I was a stone-cold idiot. My misogynist-meets-rockist approach caused me to ignore large swathes of contemporary music. Thus stunting my exploration of music history for many years. I certainly missed out on thoughtful conversations about how those women were subverting and upending pop music. It definitely took me far too long to appreciate the majesty of Kate Bush and Siouxie and the Banshees.
Thankfully, I had friends who told me to get my head out of my ass so I could critically reassess those artists and my own internal biases. Without that, I could never have appreciated the music of A.A. Williams. Released on Belle Union, Forever Blue capably straddles the line between anthemic post-rock, murder ballad, and symphonic pop.
The eight-song release packs an intense punch, as Williams confidently wears her emotions on her sleeve.
Calling to mind a heady mix of Florence Welch, Sia, and Hozier, the entire project stands firmly in the rock camp, while featuring powerful verve and theatrical drama. With her rich and luxurious alto, Williams conjures up spine-tingling sensations laced with a dark romanticism. Forever Blue is equal parts haunting and dreamy.
I’m especially enamored by her penchant for restrained verses and how they explode into cacophonous conclusions. Songs like “Melt” and “Fearless” call to mind the familiar arrangements used in the alternative rock of my 20s and the rapturous gospel balladry of my youth. Additionally, while “Dirt” and “Love and Pain” feature impressive grandeur, they never topple into arena rock stereotypes.
However, it’s the production on Forever Blue that I find to be most curious. Sure, keeping Williams’ enchanting voice front-and-center and bereft of much extraneous processing was the right thing to do. But outside of her vocals, the music often lacks sharpness and crispness – especially the drums and strings. In fact, the instrumentation feels doused in the wall-of-sound reverb typical of a shoegaze act instead of the clear crescendos employed by post-rock bands.
And this feels like a purposeful choice instead of the work of an ambitious, yet youthful producer. If the intended effect is akin to “In the midst of cacophony, Williams’ voice acts as the necessary anchor or life preserver that keeps you safe,” the album is quite successful. But if that’s not, the music surrounding Williams’ expressive pipes just seems muddled far too often. This is especially prominent on “Glimmer” and “Wait,” both of which creep perilously close to Evanescence territory.
My sonic quibbles aside, I rather liked the whole of Forever Blue.
It pays homage to goth and screamo without drowning in Bauhaus-flavored cliches or Amanda Palmer-esque excess. The music is at its best when pulling from multiple musical threads, instead of merely attempting to reinvent moody hard rock ballads.
And honestly, it’s a classic case of “I’d pay to have A.A. Williams sing the phone book.” Her gorgeous alto pulses with warmth, longing, and strength, even as her lyrics reflect emotional anxiety and discomfort. This is high-quality contemplative music for these trying times.
Which brings me back to wondering exactly why I ignored Tori, Fiona, Ani, and their contemporaries when I first heard it.
As a 40-something guy, I’m struck by the thematic heft of those artists. I should’ve resonated with them at a deep existential level because of all the questioning I was doing at that time. Maybe I was just too afraid of being that sensitive and emotionally transparent, both with myself and with others. Or maybe I just thought music made by women wasn’t for me. Like I said earlier, I was an idiot.
The point of my rambling is this: I hope the 2020 version of me out there embraces the music of A.A. Williams. Because lemme tell you, kid – you’ll be a lot better person for it.
For more info on A.A. Williams and Forever Blue, visit aawilliamsmusic.com