Tori Amos

Tori Amos

It happens, every once in a while that you come across a piece of music or a painting or a photograph that somehow drives away the accumulated ice of a lifetime of cynicism and make you gasp out in surprise..and then the raw emotion takes over and makes you cry, as if for the first time in your life.

We are living in an age where we are spoilt for choice regarding the creative arts. But too easily do we attach the label "classic" or "art" or "unique" to whatever the commercial machine is throwing at us.

A person like Van Gogh was only honoured post mortem but nowadays teenagers with two cd's under their belts bring out autobiographies and try to convince an already gullible audience of their immortality.

About 20 years ago, I was listening to radio when I heard the following song for the first time, Crucify by Tori Amos. The song still strikes a nerve, using its religious imagery to describe a very human experience.

I've been raising up my hands
Drive another nail in
Just what God needs
One more victim

Why do we
Crucify ourselves
Every day
I crucify myself
Nothing I do is good enough for you
Crucify myself
Every day
And my heart is sick of being in chains

During that time, our collective psyche was ruled by church and state and family. I thoroughly believed that the norms that were prescribed by the christian nationalist misogynistic state, buoyed up by the flaming sermons of hell and damnation of the Dutch Reformed Church, were written in stone. They created God in their image, a vengeful, cruel god who, despite his omnipotent and omniscient nature, did not bother to understand the reasons why it was so difficult for individuals to follow his so-called written word. A god who created two distinct classes of people: A man who had to rule over the whole world and nature and a women who had to serve the man and be obedient.

But clearly I did not conform to what was expected of me. If I asked questions about the bible or christianity, I was told that it was the devil that made me doubt or that the "spirit of rebellion" took control of me. I was told that being a lawyer was a man's job. I was told if I did not conform to the rules regarding sexuality, that I was either possessed by the "spirit of Jezebel" or that I would go to hell.

And when people tell you often enough that you are not good enough, that you fall short of "their" standards, that you are weird or different or too tall or too short, that you do not dress as you are supposed to, that you are lazy and unappreciative of what people are trying to do for you, you start to believe it. And then you start to despise yourself and no matter how hard you try, you crucify yourself every day.

So when I started to listen to Tori's music, it just felt as if there is someone else out there who feels that they are not perfect according to society and who also struggles to speak, to breathe and to exist in their truth. I always thought I was the only one...

Twenty years later I had the extreme privilege to meet her in person. We had a brief conversation; she gave me a hug and signed my cd's. So surreal. And then I watched in awe as she sat on the stage, with a magnificent Bosendorfer piano and a keyboard, and took the audience on a magical journey. The passion was amazing: She sang Me and a Gun as if she was telling the story for that violent assault the first time; I felt her fear when she sang the words "He is gonna take my name"; I felt the sorrow when she sang "Sometimes I think you want me to touch you. How can I when you build this great wall around you".

Her music touches my soul in so many ways and always will.

Thanks Ms Amos. You are brilliant.