Fiona Apple

During Fiona Apple's lengthy semi-hiatus, she was often imitated by young ladies on piano benches while keeping a low profile for herself -- until, of course, it came time to (try to) release Extraordinary Machine, her third full-length, originally slated to be produced by Jon Brion. Since Apple was known to have blown some minds during guest spots at Brion's regular performances at Largo in Los Angeles, the collaboration seemed to be ready to send loyal fans -- and Apple still has tons, you'd better believe it -- straight to heaven. Then all hell broke loose. Various accounts claim various dirty details, but the end result is a 12-song album with Brion's fingerprints only on the bookends. Comparing the versions is good fun for Apple diehards and for elitists in general (who will naturally prefer the Brion bootlegs regardless), but it isn't really very relevant. Every album, after all, goes through various incarnations, often including ones that vary dramatically from the final edition.

This doesn't let final producer Mike Elizondo off the hook, though, for taking the "even more is more" approach to production on tracks like "Oh Well," which focuses more on the canned orchestrations than Apple's lead vocal. Density also takes a toll on "Red Red Red," this time courtesy of an ambient electro backdrop that would be more appropriate for a singer in the Beth Orton mold. Elizondo disappoints, but don't cry too long on his predecessor's behalf. The Brion bookmarks crank up the theatricality and, accordingly, result in a pair of toe-tapping tunes that would be neat additions to a Brion soundtrack. But this, too, isn't necessarily what fans want from a Fiona Apple album.

The frustration, of course, is that Apple is a fine songwriter and a splendid vocalist. She doesn't need all the interference and accoutrement. She adapts herself well to the various approaches on the album, sounding sweet and whimsical on the opening title track, world weary on "Please Please Please" and resilient and brassy on the first-rate "Get Him Back." The grating, formulaic "Window" is the only outright dud, the nadir of an album that is consistently lyrically inferior to its predecessors. The emotional connection on Extraordinary Machine isn't as palpable as expected from Apple; it feels more like a performed album than a captured album. The result bears testament to Apple's increasingly considerable ambition and talent as a writer and arranger, but it also strips her work of some of its darkest and most seductive corners. - Adam McKibbin, The Red Alert

To say that the released version of Extraordinary Machine is a marked improvement over the bootlegged version is not to say that it sounds more complete -- after all, the booted Jon Brion productions sounded finished, as evidenced by the two cuts that were retained; the intricate chamber pop of the opening title track and the closing "Waltz (Better Than Fine)" are the only time Brion's productions not only suited, but enhanced Fiona Apple's songs -- but they are both more accessible, and more fully realized, letting Apple's songs breathe in a way they didn't on the original sessions. While Brion's productions were interesting, they stretched his carnivalesque aesthetic to the limit, ultimately obscuring Apple's songs, which were already fussier, artier, and more oblique than her previous work. When matched to Brion's elaborately detailed productions, her music became an impenetrable Wall of Sound, but Mike Elizondo's productions open these songs up, making it easier to hear Apple's songs while retaining most of her eccentricities. Now, Extraordinary Machine sounds like a brighter, streamlined version of When the Pawn, lacking the idiosyncratic arrangement and instrumentation of that record, yet retaining the artiness of the songs themselves. Like her second record, this album is not immediate; it takes time for the songs to sink in, to let the melodies unfold, and decode her laborious words (she still has the unfortunate tendency to overwrite: "A voice once stentorian is now again/Meek and muffled"). Unlike the Brion-produced sessions, peeling away the layers on Extraordinary Machine is not hard work, since it not only has a welcoming veneer, but there are plenty of things that capture the imagination upon first listen -- the pulsating piano on "Get Him Back," the moodiness of "O' Sailor," the coiled bluesy "Better Version of Me," the quiet intensity of the breakup saga "Window," the insistent chorus on "Please Please Please" -- which gives listeners a reason to return and invest time in the album. And once they do go back for repeated listens, Extraordinary Machine becomes as rewarding, if not quite as distinctive, as When the Pawn. Nevertheless, this is neither a return to the sultry, searching balladeering of Tidal, nor a record that will bring her closer to tasteful, classy Norah Jones territory, thereby making her a more commercial artist again. Extraordinary Machine may be more accessible, but it remains an art-pop album in its attitude, intent, and presentation -- it's just that the presentation is cleaner, making her attitude appealing and her intent easier to ascertain, and that's what makes this final, finished Extraordinary Machine something pretty close to extraordinary. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, Rovi