Fiona Apple is that chick from your grade school whom you thought was so goddamn weird, with her dutch braid and ill-fitting shirt and dog hair all over her skirt, but then you see her like every seven years maybe, most likely at the grocery store or some shit, and you wonder how you could've been so immature, how could've possible thought she was weird, because it's clear from the quirky way that she's picking out produce that she was always cool, but that it's too late, you were left behind, you'll never be as cool as her, and maybe it's a little creepy that you're standing over here by the bakery, thinking about how much of a dick you were in grade school, how you lacked an open mind, how you should've just accepted that everyone is unique, and some people are gonna sing about their goddamn dog over what sounds like beats from Stomp, and let their dog even join in, and that's gonna turn off a lot of people, but you've realized over time that you wanna sing about dogs too, that there's a certain honesty in it, and that's appealing, at least on a musical level (this isn't sexual, by the way, even though you might misinterpret it as sexual, if you happen to be loading granny smith apples into your basket and you see me standing over there, lost in thought—nah, this is a platonic thing, a musical thing, and plus, despite being cool, she's dated some real fucking creeps over the years, ya feel me?), and she has a certain way of turning a phrase, a skill that makes her seem so clever without ever feeling pretentious, like there's no one else who could come up with something like "Evil is a relay sport / when the one who's burned / turns to pass the torch," it's a slow-burn brilliance, you're seeing now, even though, yeah, she's still muttering this shit over something wacky, and I'm thinking now that maybe it's her way of defusing the tension in the truth that she spits like fire, like, okay, like, what about that time she was going on and on about how her ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend would probably be her best friend since they have something so wretched in common, that's some heady shit, and I can't imagine any other woman approaching the subject in such a fresh and quirky manner, but the whole time it sounds like she's also beating drumsticks against a kitchen table, and I know for a fact that her sister was there too, and she was breastfeeding, like, what, but that's just the way Fiona is, and I'm here for it, I'm here for her telling me and everyone that she won't shut up, not fucking ever, that was something that I didn't learn to appreciate until I was older, a strong woman who knows exactly what to say, I'm here for it in all its hiccupping glory, at least I am now, at least I would be, if I thought I was as cool as her, but I'm not, I'm over here next to some apple turnover and she's seeming almost unapproachable, I dunno, people are saying she's perfect, and that doesn't help, she's not perfect, she meanders a little bit, she goes on a bit too long, she doesn't know how to close on a high note, but maybe I just lack the patience, maybe these are my flaws not hers, and now it's like I'm starting to talk about me, and this should be about her, about her music, about how another student at our grade school said she had potential, and Fiona turned that into one of the best songs of the year 2020, she took some random shit that some stranger said to her decades ago and then realized that potential by paying tribute to it, it's a feat, it makes me so proud to feel the shine of Fiona's success, as if that could make up for forgetting about her, in all these years since I've last seen her, last time we crossed paths at the goddamn grocery store, but it's all good, there she is, with her dog, by the cantaloupe, mumbling to herself, shit girl it's good to see you, thanks for the hits.
GRADE: 4 pukes out of 5
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