Fiona Apple

Extraordinary Machine

(Epic / Clean Slate)

Record Review by Adam McKibbin

During Fiona Apple’s lengthy semi-hiatus, she’s been often imitated by young ladies on piano benches while keeping a low profile for herself—until, of course, it came time to (try to) release Extraordinary Machine, her third full-length, originally slated to be produced by Jon Brion. Since Apple was known to have blown some minds during guest spots at Brion’s regular performances at Largo in Los Angeles, the collaboration seemed to be ready to send loyal fans—and Apple still has tons—straight to heaven.

Then all hell broke loose. Various accounts claim various dirty details, but the end result is a 12-song album with Brion’s fingerprints only on the bookends. Comparing the versions is good fun for Apple diehards and for elitists in general (who will naturally prefer the Brion bootlegs regardless), but it isn’t really very relevant. Every album, after all, has various incarnations, often including ones that vary dramatically from the final edition.

This doesn’t let final producer Mike Elizondo off the hook, though, for taking the “even more is more” approach to production on tracks like “Oh Well,” which focuses more on the canned orchestrations than Apple’s lead vocal. Density also takes a toll on “Red Red Red,” this time courtesy of an ambient electro-backdrop that would be more appropriate for a singer in the Beth Orton mold. Elizondo disappoints, but don’t cry too long on his predecessor’s behalf. The Brion bookmarks crank up the theatricality and, accordingly, result in a pair of toe-tapping tunes that would be neat additions to a Brion soundtrack. This, too, isn’t necessarily what fans want from a Fiona Apple album.

The frustration, of course, is that Apple is a fine songwriter and a splendid vocalist. She doesn’t need all the interference and accoutrement. She adapts herself well to the various approaches on the album, sounding sweet and whimsical on the opening title track, world weary on “Please Please Please” and resilient and brassy on the first-rate “Get Him Back.” The grating, formulaic “Window” is the only outright dud, the nadir of an album that is consistently lyrically inferior to its predecessors. The emotional connection on Extraordinary Machine isn’t as palpable as expected from Apple; it feels more like a performed album than a captured album. The result bears testament to Apple’s increasingly considerable ambition and talent as a writer and arranger, but it also strips the road of some of its darkest and/or most seductive corners. With less to navigate through, it’s a lot harder to get lost.