Alanis Morissette

1995 represents something of a watershed, with the spotlight trained on the explosion of Britpop and post-grunge in the mainstream: Kurt Cobain has been dead for a year, and with him the Seattle scene is also fading. What remains of that original fury ends up blending with commercial pop-rock language, with results often bitterly debated by critics and largely set aside almost immediately – but not a secret notebook that continues to inspire new generations, “Jagged Little Pill”.

An emotional portrait of a very young Alanis Morissette, it's the third album of her career and the first to be released worldwide by the Canadian singer-songwriter, in which every song is a direct challenge, stripped of any filter or mask. At the root of the anger, the rebellion, and above all the maturity and disarming words uttered by the artist, lie a series of painful experiences, starting with a strict upbringing shaped by her parents' rigid Catholic principles, harassment and abuse suffered during adolescence – a detail only revealed and explored in depth recently – as well as bouts of anorexia and bulimia that surfaced during her debut in the music industry as a teen-pop and dance idol. The

desire to break free of that label, and above all of the falsely polished environment surrounding her, in order to tell her truth in the tone she wanted, took shape after graduating high school and got underway thanks to her collaboration with producer Glen Ballard, who tempered the aggressiveness of Alanis's lyrics with a pop sensibility, in order to sugarcoat that small, bitter, jagged-edged pill that's so hard to swallow.

“And all I really want is…”

Morissette and Ballard met in 1994, thanks to the intervention of an executive at MCA, the artist's previous label, who was stunned by the singer-songwriter's talent and clear vision. The two immediately struck up an excellent professional and creative rapport, managing to write the lyrics and sketch out a demo for every song working twelve or more hours straight, in a kind of stream-of-consciousness process of continuous experimentation in the studio.

With the work essentially complete, finding a willing record label proved the toughest task of all: only Maverick, the label founded by Madonna a few years earlier, decided to take the risk and release it. What's disarming right from the start is the open confrontation of “All I Really Want”, launched by the lively buzz of the harmonica played by Alanis and the impulsiveness of a compelling guitar riff and groovebox. The title winks at the opening of “Blue”, “All I Want”, by fellow Canadian Joni Mitchell, for whom the artist shows almost total devotion – though she would later receive a far from flattering response from her in return.

Why are you so petrified of silence?

Here, can you handle this?

Did you think about your bills, your ex, your deadlines

Or when you think you're gonna die?

Or did you long for the next distraction?

From the outset, the Canadian singer-songwriter shows a need to throw what she feels in the world's face, venting her frustration at an indolent, superficial partner, frightened by silence and real responsibility. But what might seem like a card played and burned right out of the gate is nothing less than the prelude to the strongest track of all, “You Oughta Know”. A well-aimed punch square in the face of a man guilty of using her and tossing her aside, denying any involvement with her in front of others – a raw (and honest) portrait of female sexuality, flowing straight from the artist's subconscious and set to music by a jam session featuring Flea and Dave Navarro, alongside Benmont Tench on organ and Matt Laug on drums.

Having made her intentions clear, she leaps back to a childhood undermined by unhealthy competitiveness with the ballad "Perfect," in which a parent tells their child that to earn their affection, they must be the best at everything, constantly pushing comparisons with other kids and triggering negative feelings, whose ever more unbearable weight is underscored by the song's crescendo and Alanis's cracking voice.

“‘Cause I’ve got one hand in my pocket/ And the other one is flickin’ a cigarette”

The constant vertigo of feeling pushed to the edge, paired with the attempt to always see the glass as half full, intertwines in the paradoxes and rhetorical figures of "Hand In My Pocket," which conceals another taboo. Amid the placid rhythms churned out by the drum machine, there's a striking reference to eating disorders, a plague that grew rapidly in the Nineties as mass media spread unattainable beauty standards, as well as to the feeling of being on the edge, trying to control one's own body while knowing full well one is unwell.

Continuing along the same lines, and getting to the root of the problem, is the intense, biting "Right Through You," a grungy invective aimed at record executives and the like who exploit young female artists, extracting favors in exchange for supposed career support — in particular, someone at MCA with whom Morissette reportedly had a relationship at fourteen. There's no outright accusation of abuse here, even though in Canada an adult is not legally permitted to have relations with someone so young, meaning real consent couldn't have existed — instead, it's a full-on "X-ray" of the subject, someone the songwriter managed to distance herself from once she grew up.

"Forgiven" returns to the theme of a forced upbringing, this time from a religious angle — a confession in which the artist speaks of the guilt she felt simply for wanting to enjoy life and take care of herself, tearing away the veil of hypocrisy that has always shrouded the Catholic world.

"You bleed, you learn"

Love and suffering are life's greatest teachers (and often show up together), a point driven home by the essential, reflective and well-balanced "You Learn," a balm for the soul amid nearly all the record's dramas. It was born after the singer was robbed in Los Angeles, written as a way to cope with the anxiety she was already struggling with, which that further episode had pushed out of control. That reassurance kicks off a journey of personal growth, continuing with the playful harmonica of "Head Over Feet" and the aching ballad "Mary Jane." The first track describes an initially complicated relationship between two "friends with benefits" that blossoms into something beautiful, helping the protagonist overcome her wariness, her struggle to express her feelings, and her emotional dependency, thanks to the other person's devotion and kindness; the second is instead a hymn to empathy, a gift few possess, shown here toward a friend. Both, more or less directly, come across as a call to protect the most vulnerable, to ask "how are you?" one more time — not for empty small talk, but while waiting for a genuine answer, without pressuring the other person to hold back their tears and lie.

“And isn’t it ironic?/ Don’t you think?”

Irony or bad luck? That question lies at the heart of the endless debate surrounding the massive success of the ultra-catchy "Ironic," whose bittersweet lyrics have drawn accusations of malapropism from every direction, even though poetic license and loose meaning are par for the course in songwriting, and the very concept of irony can be slippery in everyday life — something the songwriter herself summed up with a sharp retort in an interview: "It's ironic that a song called 'Ironic' isn't full of ironies."

And I don’t wanna be your other half

I believe that one and one make two

The final stretch centers on the yearning for freedom and independence with "Not The Doctor," a moment of awakening with a country touch, while also trying to shake someone out of their torpor and apathy on "Wake Up," a direct callback to the opening track. The journey closes with another version of "You Oughta Know (Jimmy The Saint Blend)," containing the a cappella ghost track "Your House," in which the artist reveals all her vulnerability, usually hidden behind the anger and sudden mood swings portrayed in the previous tracks.

Still far too underrated, despite being one of the best-selling albums of all time, having been turned into a musical, and having had a major impact on female songwriting culture (and beyond) from the 2000s onward, "Jagged Little Pill" has left behind a long musical legacy. It can be traced across a wide range of genres spanning pop, rock, emo and folk, from Tracy Bonham, Britney Spears, Avril Lavigne, Anastacia, Hayley Williams, all the way to today's Jade Bird, Phoebe Bridgers, Olivia Rodrigo, Taylor Swift, Halsey — but also in the hearts of those who listened to it and, between the lines of that precious, brutally honest, contradiction-filled, timeless diary, found something they could keep forever, like the comfort and embrace of an older sister.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google

09/10/2022