The Idler Wheel...

"How can I ask anyone to love me, when all I do is beg to be left alone?" sings Fiona Apple in her song "Left Alone," one of ten gems on her new album (deep breath) The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than the Driver of the Screw and Whipping Cords Will Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do.

I've been a fan of Fiona Apple since I first saw a picture of her in the New York Times, an ectomorphic waif staring into the camera with a kind of plaintive look on her face. That was back when she was 19, and sixteen years later she has produced only four albums, but each one is exceptional, and this latest one is her best yet.

Apple sings with naked emotion, and there are times listening to this record that a person could feel a little embarrassed, as if stumbling upon someone's diary, reading it, but then realizing they shouldn't be. She begins the set collection with "Every Single Night," which sets the tone: "Every single night I endure the flight of little wings of white-flamed butterflies in my brain. These ideas of mine percolate the mind, trickle down my spine, swarm the belly, swelling to a blaze. That's when the pain comes in, like a second skeleton trying to fit beneath the skin. I can't fit the feelings in."

Apple's feelings, though they may not fit inside her, do nicely in sound. That song is structured with a daring kind of rhythm, as if it were an American Indian spiritual. I got that feeling also with the last song on the disc, "Hot Knife," which begins with tympani (played by Apple herself), and then a multi-rhythmed blast of sexuality: "If I'm butter, then he's a hot knife. He makes my heart a CinemaScope screen showing a dancing bird of paradise."

Apple's influences seem to also include jazz, particularly with the song "Jonathan." Her co-producer is her band's drummer, Charley Drayton, and for a drumming fan like myself this record is terrific to listen to. Most of the instrumentation consists of Apple on piano and a variety of odd percussion sounds, including what sounds like footsteps on gravel. A guitarist is listed in the credits, but I couldn't pick any strings out.

But mostly Apple's strength lies in her poetry, and exposing the pain to a worldwide audience. Even a seemingly straightforward love song like "Valentine," which has a refrain of "I root for you. I love you," takes on new meaning when the lyric is examined. It seems that Apple's valentine is an unrequited love: "You didn't see my valentine. I sent it via pantomime while you were watching someone else. I stared at you and cut myself--it's all I do 'cause I'm not free, a fugitive, too dull to flee. I'm amorous but out of reach, a still-life drawing of a peach."

There's a lot like that, which suggest Apple hasn't exactly been very successful in love, or perhaps she just focuses on the break-ups. In "Werewolf," she sings, "And you are such a super guy, til the second you get a whiff of me...We can still support each other. All we gotta do's avoid each other."

The angriest song is "Regret," which has Apple keening the refrain: "I ran out of white dove's feathers to soak up the hot piss that comes from your mouth every time you address me." Wow. But that's followed by an interesting song called "Anything We Want," which contains the innocence of childhood and, dare I think it, an element of hope.

Apple was pretty grown up at 19, and now, at 34, she's matured into a fantastic singer-songwriter. This is an exciting record, which I've listened to multiple times in the week I've owned it, and will no doubt be listening to it more.