Tori Amos: Piece by Piece (42 page)

But back to our story: So after I hung up with John and Jamie after they told me I was in for another four years, I became despondent for about a week and did what I never do. I closed the door, did not let any light in, and watched TV incessantly. Okay. So you know when you're just lying on the floor on top of a blanket with a scrunched-up pillow and you just stare at the TV? And then all of a sudden you look up at this black-and-white movie that's been playing as you've been spaced out, trying to work out your own sticky predicament, and there she is, Barbara Stanwyck staring right at you. And soon you come to realize that it's Barbara Stanwyck Week on Turner Classics, or whatever the hell it is. For many days I had Barbara Stanwyck staring me down in black-and-white and in color, challenging me to stand up to these cattle rustlers, these hustlers of humans, who will try to completely ruin and destroy another human being. From her movies as a young woman to her role as matriarch in the long-running TV show
The Big Valley
, this woman became one of my archetypes that I began to create in order to play the chess game of my life.

Sekhmet, some would say the shadow side of the musical goddess Hathor, was another piece of this female archetype that I was building, an archetype who could take on the music industry. Though my adversaries at Atlantic believed that they had me cornered for four years, I began to dissect every side, every facet of the chess game, and I made my next move.

I called Branca and Jamie. “I have an idea, guys,” I said. They responded, “You know, Tor, we've been going over the contracts, and you owe them three more records.” “Yes, guys—I've been trying to come up with a concept for all three that will honor the music and yet at the same time circumvent the need for Atlantic's promotion machine.” John and
Jamie interjected, “On the strength of your touring and especially with the financial success of the
Plugged
tour, we were able to get Atlantic to count the live disc for two if you will generate two discs.” “Guys, I can generate ten discs, but the question here is, will two live discs not promoted by Atlantic go platinum [500,000 copies sold for a double disc]? Because if it doesn't, it will do what Atlantic ultimately wants—which is to effectively cause other potential record labels I may consider going to to question if I still have value in the marketplace.” “Tor, just come up with two discs that will go platinum, and then you won't lose your value in the marketplace.” “Thanks, guys, for your genius ability to come up with a concept. I mean, if it doesn't go platinum, we're fucked. And it's not about if it will be brilliant—brilliant works get buried in the music business quite frequently. So it's not about whether it's good work; neither is it about whether I can capture the imagination of the public while I'm fighting my own label, which stands between me and the public.” “Look, Tor, both of us sitting here know that you will come up with a concept. We know you can do it, we believe in you.”

The double disc of
Venus
did go platinum. As we were developing
Venus
at Martian Engineering Studios in Cornwall, the concept came in a simple but beautiful way. I was taking a drive with Marcel, and I was jazzed about the live tracks from the
Plugged
tour that we were mixing. He said something to me that had a huge impact. “Tor, I've been hearing some of the new songs you've been writing, and I think they have to go on this record.” “Yeah, but Marcel, we have a live concept for the double disc.” “Yeah, but Tor, why don't you make one disc live and one disc with these new songs that I want to keep listening to?” “But I don't want to give Atlantic any new material.” “Yeah, but Tor”—in his Dutch accent— “you need to give these songs to the people, not to the record company.” “Jeez, Marcel, I need to think about this.”

So I took a long walk in the dark that night, and I looked up and I thought I saw Venus looking down at Earth. And as we were coming into the millennium, I started to think about how Mother Earth must be feeling in the face of so much violence. And Venus seemed to be generating this light, almost like a hand outstretched in friendship. And I started to think that Earth could probably use a girlfriend. And
bam.
There was my concept: one disc for Earth, which would be the live music that had been created definitely on terra firma. Then another disc for Venus, which would be the new music that was feeling like a sonic outstretched handshake to her girlfriend Earth … recorded at, of all places, a studio called Martian Engineering.

ANN:
With one project still due Atlantic Records, convinced that she could not offer original work to a company she now considered purely adversarial, Amos found herself in yet another dangerous spot as the twentieth century expired. A dream her mother had shone a light on the escape route: the project that became
Strange Little Girls.

After
Venus
, I still had one more record to deliver to Atlantic. Everyone wanted to know what I was going to do. I knew that whether I gave these executives a full-length disc of new material or not wasn't the most important issue in their lives. It was to me, at that time. I knew there would be a night when each of them was at home in bed, comfortably thinking about their families and their lives, and I would be out there with my music. I believed that my contract specified that the record I delivered in 2001 had to be original work, and I didn't know how I was going to deal with that a second time. While I was stewing on it, I got a phone call from my mother. She'd had a dream. Even though she's very Christianized, my
mother has always remained intuitive and aware of the world of visions. She told me to call my lawyer. She claimed that my contract didn't specify what the music had to be. She told me that the ancestors had shown her. My mother really really believes that if you need a warning, the ancestors will come and provide it. That was what her father taught her, and what she taught me.

So I called my lawyer, and Jamie my attorney and Jamie my friend with calm kindness said, “Tor, come on, we've gone over the contract. Don't make me do this again. It's just too painful for you.” I said, “Just do it to make my mother happy. I can't call her a loony bird. Please, Jamie, just do it for her sake.” A few hours later I got the call back and Jamie said, “In fact, the contract does not specify original work, which in itself is extremely unusual—just that the work has to be of the same quality as what has defined you as Tori Amos.” Clearly the ancestors seized on the one element in the contract that sometimes the Cheeses miss but that can come down to interpretation. So I asked if she could defend me legally if I pushed the definition. She said she could. But most important, she thought my concept of an all-male reinterpretations record was a powerful one, and she has always encouraged me to play to my strengths.

So I came up with the plan to give them some of the greatest songs that had ever been written—just not by me. And I put my heart and soul into it while keeping the oath to myself to not give Atlantic any more of my song girls. Yet because of the concept of
Strange Little Girls
, we generated the kind of project we wanted to, which generated the response from the public without the support of Atlantic. As this work was getting ready for release, and when other labels wanted it because they were excited about it, I had to laugh. Because even in the final hour, when they could have made money by selling
Strange Little Girls
to the label I was
about ready to sign with, which was Epic/Sony, I began to see the light at the end of my tunnel. No, They, the Cheeses at Atlantic, couldn't be gracious, even in the end.

Through almost three years of guerrilla warfare, we were still able as a team to produce three CDs—with involved concepts—that we believed in musically. Through it all, in the face of extreme adversity, we kept our musical integrity. To this day I still feel the need to thank those people who held little torches up for those of us trudging through the constant confrontations that tried to rip us to shreds down there in the Tori Tunnel. And as
Strange Little Girls
came out and made the top ten on
Billboards
album charts, I was able to finesse, alongside John and Jamie, certain aspects in the new Epic/Sony contract, which I signed forthwith. And as I held my daughter in my arms backstage at one of the shows on the
Strange Little Girls
tour, I thought to myself that my inner circle and crew had come through as a team and intact. And I looked out from England across the Atlantic Ocean to the white-collared dragons in the music industry and whispered, “Checkmate, Motherfuckers.”

Sekhmet, the Egyptian lioness goddess

When Atlantic failed to reach a settlement with Tori after all those meetings, the writing was on the wall. After Tori had released
Strange Little Girls
, therefore fulfilling her contractual obligations, Atlantic issued a press release that included Tori among various artists they had
dropped from their roster. As we have already explained, this could not have been further from the truth. It is sad that some of the executives involved felt the need to justify their actions by doing that. They lost a great artist who had not only sold millions of records for them over her twelve years at the label but had also drawn other credible artists to their roster. Then they felt the need to cover their tracks.

With the sale of Warners in early 2004, some of the major players who were involved in the negotiations were escorted from the building after being let go by the new owners. Even if they did walk with huge buyouts from their contracts, there is still some sense of justice that these people were removed. There were a great many members of the Tori Amos family who had worked their collective asses off during those last two records who were let go also. Some of them are still there, including Jason Flom, now co-chairman and CEO of Atlantic. Had this happened a few years ago … who knows?

With her newly gained freedom from the Atlantic shackles, Tori released
Scarlet's Walk
, which included her most successful radio hit to date, “a sorta fairytale.”

As that song gained momentum at the radio format of Hot AC and Triple A, I got countless phone calls from some of the “family” at Atlantic, crying, “Why now?” “Why has she written a hit now? Why not four years ago, before she left the company?” I think, without exception, they all got it after the circumstances that brought about Tori's exit and subsequent move to Sony were explained.

With the release of
Tales of a Librarian
, we thought Atlantic really had a chance to show that maybe they had made a mistake and to prove that they, the people in charge of the label, were worthy of working for the famed Atlantic name. Unfortunately, we were wrong.

With the early meetings, all the normal gusto was there. We were
hearing stuff like “We want to show Sony what we can do” and “We will make this record one of the top five most important records ever to be released on Atlantic.” Well, that meant nothing. Without a checkbook, there was little they could do. And the checkbook had been locked away with the whiskey until after the sale of Warners to Edgar Bronfman Jr. In fact, the staff's T&E (travel and entertainment) accounts had been suspended without preapproval from the Warner accountants for anything over fifty dollars … along with the private cars and jets to the Hamptons. There was the Press and Promotion Department, terrified for their own jobs and scared to book anything in case it cost them money!

This was not entirely unexpected, and with the formation of The Bridge only a month before the release of
Tales
, Chelsea and I went into overdrive to put together a schedule worthy of a career-long collection of music. As this book is published, we are developing a relationship with the new holders of Tori's back catalog and hope that, in new and safe hands, this work is forever treated with the respect that it deserves.

If you take away only three terms from this book about the music business, then take the three that I'm about to give you.
Controlled composition. Recoupable. In perpetuity.
These three terms can lose you your artist's soul. Remember these terms similarly to the way you shudder when you hear “666, The Mark of the Beast.” These three terms are the 666 of the music business.

Simply,
controlled composition
means that if you are a contracted artist who writes your own songs, then your record label is allowed to cheat you out of what any other songwriter, who isn't under the terms of your deal, would get paid. Songwriters should be paid on the statutory mechanical rate set by CARP (Copyright Arbitration Royalty Panel), which, as of
January 1, 2004, is $.085 per song in the United States. Record labels in the United States traditionally pay on only ten songs, up to twelve, per CD. You, as the signed songwriter to a record label in America, do not receive the statutory mechanical rate if the record label puts a controlled composition clause into your contract. Some songwriters have actually owed the record label money every time a CD of theirs is sold because of this devious controlled composition clause. This clause is far more complicated and menacing than I can explain in one paragraph. Now, why is this allowed to happen? This is not allowed to happen in Europe. Why do Congress and state legislators not protect the artist from the controlled composition clause?