According to the guy on the radio this morning, Tori Amos’s album Little Earthquakes debuted in the US on this date in 1992. I was 15 and pregnant with my first child when a friend first introduced me to the album. Only a handful of months earlier, I’d moved to Roswell, New Mexico from Guthrie, Oklahoma and had effectively completed one phase of my life. One horrible, abuse-ridden, trauma-filled, shitty, shitty phase. And though I didn’t know it yet, I was about to start another phase that would last into my early 20s. A phase worse in immeasurable ways than anything that had come before. I was a rage-filled, hormone-filled, impulsive, fiery 15-year-old. Basically, I was ripe for Little Earthquakes.
The album was a point of deviation for me musically. My sister didn’t get it. It wasn’t popular and didn’t produce a single radio hit. But it was mine. This album was MINE. I really wanted people I loved to love it and it hurt my feelings when they didn’t, but I made no apologies. It was their loss, in my opinion. My closest family and friends not liking the album was my reason to retreat further away from the before life and into something else. The else being a thing it would take me a full decade to figure out. This album was often my only torch in the long slog through the darkness toward the light. Does that sound dramatic? Well, I was 15 when the album landed in my life. 15-year-olds are nothing if not dramatic. Nonetheless, it’s still true. Even now, as I write this from the light. Continue reading