I was 19, in the front row at the Riviera Theatre in Chicago, and I had no idea what I was about to see. Back then, everything you heard about Fiona Apple on MTV News or in little blurbs from Rolling Stone had this air of mystery or myth to it. There was no social media, so the press just leaned into the extremes, the best moments, the worst moments, and the word on her was that she might fall apart on stage, melting down, at any given time. So yeah, I was a little nervous. A friend and I had just driven seven hours to get there way early, we had to be in the front row for this show.
Fiona walked out on stage in a black hoodie, hood pulled tight over her head, sat down at the piano, and I remember thinking… this might not go well.
Her band kicked into “On the Bound,” and I still couldn’t see her face, even from the front row. She was buried in that hood. And then the chorus hit… she snapped her head back side to side, the hood fell to her shoulders, and suddenly there she was, eyes wide, veins in her neck popping, completely inside the song, screaming you’re all I need, you’re all I need, you’re all I need, and maybe some faith will do me good. She was singing like her fucking life depended on it. The air left the room. It honestly felt like the whole crowd forgot to breathe for a second. And all it was was the hood of her sweatshirt falling back. No crazy lights, no explosions. And somehow it hit harder than any arena level pyrotechnics you’d see at a KISS or Alice Cooper show. Just pure, human, locked in emotion.
Two songs later, I fainted.
Completely out. Never happened before at a show, never since. I came to and saw my friend looking down at me asking if I was okay. Everything felt cloudy, like I was waking up inside a dream. I told her I was fine and to stay in our spot. I stumbled through the crowd to the bar and ordered an overpriced orange juice, thinking it was a blood sugar thing, even though the only thing I’d eaten in the last 24 hours was strawberry soda and Smarties. At the time I was basically living off care packages sent through the mail from my mom, pumpkin bread, pasta, bags of cheap cereal.. but when I was on my own out in the world, it was mostly candy and soda. I guess Rock and roll was my protein and veggies.
Eventually I felt okay, but there was no way I was getting back to the front row at this point, so I went up to the balcony and watched the rest of the show from there.
Later that evening she played the song... "I Know," everything slowed down again. Got quiet. Got a little tense and dreamy. Fiona at the piano, putting everything into every word. And I remember thinking I was watching someone on that kind of next level as a songwriter and performer, like a 1965 Bob Dylan moment, just decades later. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a better song about relationships.., about patience, about loving someone while everything is still uncertain. Fiona’s songs never look away from the hard parts. And sitting up in that balcony looking down, still a little shaky, I could feel her power and magic. Goose bump inducing presence.
Rudy Fischmann and I get into all of that on this episode of Perfect Songs Forever on the Discograffiti network, how she was already tapping into the complexities of relationships at such a young age. And I still think about that night all the time. Mostly because I’ve seen a lot of concerts… but she’s the only one who’s ever made me faint.
You can listen to the episode here:
Join the Discograffiti Soldiers Of Sound and big thanks to Dave Gebroe for creating the best deep dive music podcast in the biz..