Where we left off at Danger Mouse’s fusion of two absolutes – black and white – we delve further into the foggy haze of the future by looking back at where it all began; for this generation, we emanated as products of irony with one hand in our pocket searching for a jagged little pill to cure the confusion. Music is the most wonderful of all drugs; amidst the plethora of genres, artists, tracks, and tribulations Alanis Morissette’s album stands out as the Raggedy Ann within the proverbial valley of the dolls.
The 1995 culture-defining album Jagged Little Pill still stands as the most angst-ridden-apathetic, yet understated-articulate anthem for those on the fringe of Gen X and Gen Why Care? The tone, the timbre, the subdued style, and subjective substance flow as effortlessly through the recording as any given listener no doubt flowed through their bleak, semi-charmed life.
The only way to get through such a gray existence is to live through it and learn what you can in the meantime. “You Learn” rhythmically trudges along repetitiously like any given soldier plodding along a warpath, from seventies Vietnam to the 21st century Twietnam, the lyrics trek through the track as the anthemic voice in the back of any disillusioned youth’s head en route through battleground life:
I, recommend getting your heart trampled on to anyone, yeah. I, recommend biting off more than you can chew to anyone; I certainly do. Swallow it down (what a jagged little pill). It feels so good (swimming in your stomach). Wait until the dust settles. You bleed you learn, you scream you learn. You live you learn; you lose you learn.
It’s all about the little things, making the most of the mundane, if only for the sake of making something out of nothing – “life is plain; no pain, no gain, if I could I would resurrect: kurt. cobain.” *snap* *snap*
Alanis exudes a sense of beautiful contradiction. She’s starkly pure and clean, but worn and weathered. She’s bitten, but not broken. She’s bitter, but sweet. Her sound is folksy, but soulful and universally appealing. There are multitudes of layers within the simple acoustics. The sound lulls the listener into a deceptive state of passivity, while the sentiment strikes with the force of a lost lover’s scorn.
I want you to know… that I’m ha ppy for you. I, wish nothing but – the best, for, you both.
“You Oughta Know” is the Canadian “Not Gon’ Cry” meets Waiting to Exhale Angela Bassett meets 10 Things I Hate About You Julia Stiles meets criminal-minded Fiona Apple meets Betty Friedan meets the grit-flinging female to which Al Green awoke one Southern morning: it’s the fury against which Hell can nary hold a flame – it’s knocking at Uncle Joey’s door and it’s everywhere you look.
And every time you speak her name, does she know how you told me you’d hold me until you died, til you died? But you’re still alive…
… likely not by choice.