All My CDs, pt 86: Havoc and Bright Lights

Havoc and Bright Lights - Alanis Morissette

I describe this as the album where Alanis Morissette finally achieves enlightenment, inasmuch as all stages of growth resemble finally achieving enlightenment when compared to all previous stages. In that sense, each new discovery is like another layer peeled off the onion of life, each more tender and pungent than the last.  In truth, we can really only say for sure that this is the review where I finally am confident I can spell "Morissette" without checking. (One M, one R, all other consonants doubled.)

Having for the first time listened to an analyzed each of these last six albums in sequence, I can say I’ve gleaned some new understanding of how the music has changed and evolved over the past few decades. The style of music here compared with that in Jagged Little Pill and Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie is much more techno, and reflects changes in the overall sound of popular music from the 90s to the 10s. Yet it’s still unmistakably Alanis Morissette, and I get no impression she’s pandering to a popular audience with these changes. The diary-like, conversational tone of many of the early songs has given way to a more typical pop-song structure for even the less structured songs, yet they still come off as very candid.

Looking at songs like Guardian, the lead single, it’s tempting to say that this album is happier than all the others. And considering that Jagged Little Pill’s most popular tracks were Ironic and You Oughta Know, I could almost forgive the conclusion. Yet, looking at the rest of the songs, it’s clear that there’s still a lot of emotional ground being covered. Even ultimately positive songs such as Empathy, Spiral and Receive are only positive because they describe a rescue from suffering. After finally looking critically at Guardian, I can now understand that it represents the same concept, only written in second-person perspective.

And there’s still a lot of angstier material. Woman Down is a feminist diatribe. Celebrity viciously lampoons fame and those who seek it. Havoc describes a relapse of mental health, something I’m very familiar with, with a return to the somber voice-and-piano combo that so beautifully encapsulates themes of sadness and regret.

Lens is a particularly interesting song to me. Besides being very exciting to listen to, its lyrics describe something not usually expressed in popular media or discourse in general: the desire for compassion and mutual respect in intellectual debate.

And so now your grand assessment
is that I’m not in your group
that I’m not your kind
And so we’re locked in a stalemate
with you in your corner, and me dismayed in mine

So now it’s your religion against my religion
my humble opinion ‘gainst yours
this does not feel like love
and it’s your conviction against my conviction
and I’d like to know what we’d see
through the lens of love

Numb is another favorite:

here comes a feeling
I run from the feeling
and reach for the drug

I think it’s cool how the lyrics describe constantly running from and numbing away all sorts of negative feelings, but the music (with searing violin and electric guitar solos) betrays that those chaotic and uncontrolled sensations are always present just under the surface. There is no escape. The only way out is through.

For some time I have considered buying copies of Alanis Morissette’s first two albums, made before she’s generally understood to have found her voice and audience with Jagged Little Pill. I’ve heard those first two are very teeny-pop and not as worth listening to, but they’re nonetheless a part of the body of work of one of my favorite musicians and I am curious. But I think I’ll hold off until after this project is over with. I still have many more CDs to review.

Next: The Sunset Tree