I wasn't into the whole Alt/Grunge thing when it came around in the 90s.
Partially that was because I didn't see how all that nihilism and unfocused rage was going to help anything and partially it was because the kids at my high school who were into it were kinda jerks and I figured anything they liked that much was probably best avoided.
So when Jagged Little Pill came out I wasn't the most receptive audience to begin with.
It's style didn't help. The music was jarring, Morrissette’s voice was whiny and grating and listening to her was actually physically painful. (Hello undiagnosed sensory issues!)
And “Ironic” was so overplayed. That song was EVERYWHERE. Waiting rooms, stores at the mall, cars driving by as you walked down the street…it was insidious. Like I’m pretty sure that if you had dived to the bottom of the ocean and found the lost continent of Atlantis the crystal skulls would have been singing it at karaoke night.
“You Outta Know” wasn’t much better. I mean, I understand her anger and I am totally here for a gal getting her digs in at the dude who did her wrong, but I really could have done without knowing the intimate details of Uncle Joey’s sex life, thanks. (*insert little green nausea emoji here.*)
Then some pretty awful stuff happened right around my 18th birthday and at that point I REALLY didn’t need some random chick on the radio screaming at me about irony because I was fracking living it.
“Ironic” became my personal hell on earth.
I really didn’t understand why so many people loved it so much. I just chalked it up to yet another sign of our decaying civilization. (Hey, I never said I was immune to the curse of Gen X pessimism, we had a lot of good reasons to feel that way, I just refused to wallow in it and kept trying to make things better anyway.)
And it probably would have stayed that way.
But then I decided to do a series of ACEOs (Artist Cards, Editions, and Originals) dedicated to the history of Women of Rock, and I had a problem, because no matter how I personally felt about Morissette’s music, I couldn’t deny that the release of Jagged Little Pill fundamentally changed the landscape of American music and there was no way I could do this project with integrity without acknowledging that.
So with all the determination of someone about to walk on hot coals or jump into a freezing lake I set about trying to find a Alanis Morisette song that didn’t make me feel like I was being stabbed in the ear with an ice pick.
Fortunately I had discovered and learned to manage my sensory issues in the intervening years and quickly realized that having control over the volume I listened at helped a LOT.
Without that distraction, I could actually hear beyond the noise for the first time, and it finally clicked.
Alanis is the voice of the lost girls.
No wonder she’s screaming. She’s venting all the crap every overlooked and undiagnosed young woman has carried their whole lives. No wonder it’s jarring. No wonder it’s raw.
No wonder it resonated so strongly with so many who felt unseen and unheard.
I began to see the discordance in the music as the deliberate style choice it was- the audio equivalent of a splash of red paint across a pure white background- and not just yet another voice screaming into the void.
I’ll be honest. Morissette’s music still isn’t a favorite, and it probably never will be, but I do feel I understand it now, and because I finally understand it I can at least respect it.
(But I’m still skipping “You Outta Know”)
Jagged Little Pill cover art courtesy of Wikipedia.
Used for critique/discussion purposes only