Search for self brings stardom to Alanis Morissette

By Dini S. Djalal

JAKARTA (JP): Ever since Billie Holiday let out a melancholy wail, female singers and musicians have lamented the music industry's rampant sexism.

The times are slowly changing. Bands such as Take That and Boyzone are objectifying men rather than women. Not that female objectification is obsolete -- for every teenybopper boy pin-up, plenty of half-naked starlets struggle to catch the limelight.

But some aspiring pop stars are replacing their make-up artists with bad attitudes, and great talent. The evolution from Madonna to kd lang shows the strides women have made in getting respect for their skills and not their looks.

It hasn't been easy, but survivors of the uphill battle are overcoming the obstacles. It's no coincidence that Maverick Records, the label that signed the platinum-selling Alanis Morissette, is owned by reigning pop queen Madonna. The acclaimed Me'Shell Ndegeocello, a shaven-haired, bisexual singer/ songwriter, is also on Maverick's roster.

Considering recent buying trends, Maverick's gender-sensitive signing is not a gamble. Self-assured solo female artists are hot on the charts. Sheryl Crow, Bjork and Liz Phair are proving that a woman's place is not in the kitchen, but wielding a guitar onstage.

None sell better than Canada-born Alanis. Her critically- acclaimed album, Jagged Little Pill, has sold 14 million copies worldwide and won several music awards. Millions of female fans, screaming that she articulates their frustrations and insecurities, have also been won over.

The fans are screaming worldwide, including in Jakarta. The Alanis Morissette concert on Sunday at the Jakarta Convention Center was a sea of confident young girls rather than pogo-ing boys sweating it out in the moshpit. Concert promoter Java Musikindo said that it was the most successful concert it ever held, selling out weeks in advance.

"I like how she's really pretty but she doesn't dress up," said 17-year-old Mia, referring to Alanis' stage outfit of a simple white shirt and black pants. "I like her lyrics. Some of them are sad and not very confident, but that's how I feel too sometimes," said 21-year-old Nanik.

Angry

It's debatable, however, if all her fans share her trauma of boyfriends-gone-wrong, as she describes in the chart-topping You oughta know:

Every time you speak her name/ does she know how you told me you'd hold me until you died/ but you're still alive/ and I'm here to remind you/ of the mess you left when you went away/ it's not fair to deny me of the cross I bear that you gave to me.

"We may not have the exact same experiences," said Nanik, "but I can understand her anger."

But Angry White Female is not what Alanis wants to be remembered for. "I was quite angry when I wrote the songs, but it was written for the sake of release," said Alanis. "There are a lot of positive things on the record. And in the future, I don't know if I'm going to write about solely negative things," Alanis told The Jakarta Post.

Alanis adds that becoming a role model was not on the agenda in her journey of self-discovery. "Being a role model has come about by default, coming about from my self-esteem getting higher. But I don't feel like I'm doing it on their behalf. I'm just continuing on my own path," said Alanis.

It's a path that's meandered around many bends. Twenty-two year-old Alanis is a veteran entertainer, having been a TV star in Canada in her early teens and a dance-pop diva by the time she was 16.

Alanis does not regret her previous incarnation as a wiggling lycra-clad Paula Abdul clone. "In the 1980s, I thought that music was about entertainment. I wasn't fearless enough to write in a vulnerable way," said Alanis.

After moving to Los Angeles to try her luck there, her musical style became less commercial. "I lived alone for a few years and came to terms with what I really wanted to do. There was some concern about how my music was going to be categorized, but I said don't worry about it."

Alanis adds that when she started believing in her true self, success came. "Ironically when you don't seek approval, you get the approval that you don't seek, because you don't really care."

As for the future of her career, Alanis says that she will follow what her heart tells her. "Now I will be continually motivated by my own evolution," said Alanis. She describes her next album, due out next year, as also being a "release" but more trance-like.

Alanis unveiled some of these new songs at the concert. True to her word, Camp note began with a trip-hop beat which then accelerated to blaring hard riffs. Warping on feedback, the guitars droned on and on as Alanis tossed her long mane into a trance-like frenzy. The teenage audience didn't know what to make of the headbanging spectacle, and some made their exit.

What the kids wanted to hear are the chant-along hits, the ones they can flick their lighters to. These are Alanis' specialty. When she sang the infectious Hand in my pocket, her beautiful voice was barely heard over the audience caroling I'm high but I'm grounded/ I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed/ I'm lost but I'm hopeful.

This is also an audience that religiously watches her videos, mimicking her hand movements when she sings I've got one hand in my pocket, and the other one in a peace-sign. It was one of the few times Alanis stepped out of her self-absorbed performance, and smiled at her fans.

After baring her vulnerabilities in the song, Alanis says a polite "thank you", contradicting the emotional honesty of the music with her detached stage persona. Alanis may boast the gifts of provocative penmanship and a soaring elastic voice, but her rapport with the audience lacks intimacy or spontaneity. Just because Alanis sings about intimate issues to her fans does not mean she connects with them onstage.

After several charged performances of combative songs, her anger began to fail her. The audience was jumping up and down to You oughta know, but Alanis seemed tired running around the stage spewing hostile bile. Again, she ends the vocal diatribe with a quick "thank you", then praises the crowd for being "a beautiful audience". Are we beautiful when we cheer on her character assassination of old lovers?

When she finished her finale, a hair-raising (or in Alanis' case, hair-tossing) version of Wake up, the crowd was so stunned by her whipping mane that they forgot to clap when she left the stage. In fact, everyone just stood there waiting for her to return without little applause for her, or the band's, performance.

Knowing the routine of concerts, of course Alanis returned, launching into a lilting R.E.M.-like new song. When the melody lifts, Alanis distorts her piercing cry into the nasal warble she is now famous for. But her mannered singing eventually loses its edge and vibrancy. Sinead O'Connor has also been accused of stale vocal affectations, and Sinead shows more vocal versatility.

But the audience, some of whom were content to sit on the ground without seeing the stage, didn't care if she whistled or growled. They were happy just to sing with her. The self- consciously clever Ironic (It's a traffic jam when you're already late/ it's a no-smoking sign on your cigarette break) was greeted with choruses louder than Alanis' voice.

When she raced across the stage for another crowd-pleaser, the instructive You learn, she seemed to be drunk on her triumph over despair. You grieve, you learn/ you choke, you learn/ you laugh, you learn/ you choose, you learn, Alanis sings with the crowd, at last feeding on her own catharsis as well as the audience's. Scathing as the lyrics may be, these are still camp-fire songs for today's disillusioned but hopeful youth. Alanis is the sharp- tongued earth mother leading the caustic sing-along.