As published on "The Roundtable":

Thinking back on a lot of our "roundtable" discussions before we even began this blog journey, I realized just how jaded I've become about music.  Something that once inspired me in so many positive ways, or enlightened me, or even above all, entertained me, has recently become an outlet for cynicism.  Growing up in the golden (platinum?) age of CDs, I've been brainwashed into believing that the mark of quality music or a quality artist is synonymous with how many units that artist moves.  Isn't that the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard of?  I think so, but it was truly my mentality.

Thankfully, over the last few months, I've been connecting with true music aficionados whose musical tastes span all genres. It's been a very educational experience and continues to be one, but I now find myself exploring different musicians and sounds that perhaps I would've never even given a second thought to.

Case in point – Fiona Apple.  Ok, so she's not "unknown" or "undiscovered" in the traditional sense.  In fact, as sales numbers go, she's done well for herself over the years, but there's more to her than I had ever known. Two close friends of mine, Mike and Eddie, are self-described "Fionatics."  They've spent countless hours trying to convince me to give "little Fi" a chance – just a listen – emphasizing that I'm missing out on incredible music.  Each time, I passed.

See, I have this vivid memory of Fiona, which I'm sure many of you share. Flashback to '96 or so, Fiona hit the music scene with a bang and "Criminal" was topping the charts.  Her scandalous video hit, a voyeuristic look at Fiona and other young-looking stand-ins sulking around a house half-naked, a real-life simulation of those controversial Ralph Lauren ads that were popular in the late '90s.  People were addicted – the video was put in heavy rotation at MTV leading to Fiona's nomination as "Best New Artist."  Naturally, she won, but no one was prepared for her acceptance speech in which she ranted that the world was "bullsh*t" and damned the "mainstream industry." That left a sour taste in my mouth, but in hindsight, I was too naïve to realize she may have been on to something.

That profanity laced speech proved powerful enough for me to never give her music a chance until recently, when I finally relented to Mike and Eddie's nagging and downloaded a few tracks off Fiona's "When the Pawn…"  Instantly, I was hooked.  Her voice was raw and emotional, but more importantly, her lyrics spoke to me.  But this was just the beginning.    

Saturday, Mike and Eddie took me to a very intimate Q&A session/performance with Fiona as part of "The New Yorker" magazine's music festival at the Brooklyn Lyceum.  The audience consisted of about 200 true Fiona fans and some of her family and friends. We were front and center, no more than two feet from an electric piano setup and two chairs where the interview portion would take place. 

At 7:30, the lights dimmed, and this tiny figure dressed in all black scurried down the stairs with the assistance of what seemed to be her tour manager.  She quickly made her way to her seat and prepared herself for a very casuall interview with Sasha Frere-Jones.  As the interview unfolded, I came to find out Fiona is in constant battle with obsessive compulsive disorders and has quite a few anti-social tendencies.  At times on stage, she seemed fragile, that at any moment the pressure of this intimate setting would break her, but it never did. It was a fascinating experience just to watch someone in that setting, but at the same time, you couldn't help but think about how dangerous it could've all been.  She revealed that she wasn't currently working on any music because dealing her mind takes up a good portion of her day (life). After the interview and (awkward) fan Q&A session, Fiona was left to her music.

Accompanied by "Nickel Creek," Fiona performed seven songs with only an acoustic guitar, upright bass, and a violin backing.  Having never seen Fiona, I had no idea what to expect.  Her voice in impressively deep for such a small woman, filled with tiny imperfections that make her one of a kind.  She snarled, and I mean snarled, her way through each track – exposing her soul to the audience, a musical experience unlike anything else I've ever had.  Her body shook violently; her foot pounded the stage as if she was possessed conjuring up past emotions probably unsafe for anyone to reconnect with, especially one of her mental state. It was truly remarkable to witness. Intoxicating, she held the room's attention and shared every ounce of her pain with her audience and we accepted it, took on that burden as to give her some relief, if only for a moment. I always joke, but with some seriousness, that it is exhausting to be inside my head for just one day, but in relation to Fiona's condition, it's not so bad after all.  

I left that performance a changed person. How many artists have had that effect on you?