I’ve been a huge Fiona Apple fan for many many years. Even though I don’t love all or even most of her songs, I love her voice so much that I own all her records. kept me anchored to sanity back in 2000 when I was 28 and going through something awful. I don’t know exactly why that song was so vital to me; I just know that it was.
Have you ever had that weird, intense loyalty for a musician because of the emotional bond you made with their music at a really important time in your life? Not stalker-weird; you’re just so grateful they wrote that one song or that one album which got you through that time when you felt like you were going to die.
That’s how I’ve felt about Fiona Apple for almost 13 years. So when I saw the last week that she canceled her South American tour because her dog is dying, my heart broke for her and I want to pass along the beautiful way she explained it.
She posted this on Facebook. The transcript has been reprinted all over the internet so I’ll do the same:
It’s 6pm on Friday, and I’m writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I’m writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.
Here’s the thing.
I have a dog, Janet, and she’s been ill for about 2 years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She’s almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then — an adult, officially — and she was my kid.
She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.
She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.
She’s almost 14 and I’ve never seen her start a fight, or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She’s a pacifist.
Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact. We’ve lived in numerous houses, and joined a few makeshift families, but it’s always really been just the two of us.
She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.
She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me, all the time we recorded the last album.
The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she’s used to me being gone for a few weeks, every 6 or 7 years.
She has Addison’s Disease, which makes it more dangerous for her to travel, since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.
Despite all this, she’s effortlessly joyful & playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago. She is my best friend, and my mother, and my daughter, my benefactor, and she’s the one who taught me what love is.
I can’t come to South America. Not now. When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.
She doesn’t even want to go for walks anymore.
I know that she’s not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That’s why they are so much more present than people.
But I know she is coming close to the time where she will stop being a dog, and start instead to be part of everything. She’ll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.
I just can’t leave her now, please understand. If I go away again, I’m afraid she’ll die and I won’t have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.
Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes just to decide what socks to wear to bed.
But this decision is instant.
These are the choices we make, which define us. I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love & friendship.
I am the woman who stays home, baking Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend. And helps her be comfortable & comforted & safe & important.
Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life that keeps us feeling terrified & alone. I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time. I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments.
I need to do my damnedest, to be there for that.
Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I’ve ever known.
When she dies.
So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and I am revelling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel. And I’m asking for your blessing.
I’ll be seeing you.
Love,
Fiona
There is nothing to add to that; it’s lovely and heartbreaking, most of us know exactly how she feels, and Janet is a lucky dog to have such a human.
————–
All I will add is this video, in case you aren’t sure why Fiona Apple is so loved. She’s onstage with Elvis Costello, singing his song “I Want You” and delivering an absolute masterwork of a performance. Give it 7 minutes and see how you feel. As one YouTube commenter puts it, this is “nailed on all levels”:
If you’re not mesmerized, some part of your heart is missing or you just aren’t that into intense, incandescent live vocal performances of fantastic songs by singers with buttery rich voices and stunningly expressive faces who seem to be living through emotional agony right on the stage.
If you’re short of time, just start at 2:30, or about 3:30. Or skip to the 5:00 mark and watch the last 2 minutes. If you’re not impressed, don’t you dare say so in the comment thread. I don’t want to know you’re that dead inside.
I love Fiona. She becomes the song, no wonder albums are 6-7 years apart. An amazing performer
She invests a lot in that song, doesn’t she? Sang through gritted teeth for much of it, blue eyes flashing. Great performance. Thanks for sharing it, Rachel.
“If you’re not mesmerized, some part of your heart is missing”
I get that a lot.
I’m a Fiona fan, too. Her at the end of Extraordinary Machine always makes me have a better day. It doesn’t hurt that it has a lovely French folk music sound to it.
Fiona’s a bit of an odd duck, and I can’t always relate to her, even though I do dig her music. But I can totally relate to this decision. I’ve made some rather important life decisions based on my dog’s happiness and well-being. It’s a mindset a lot of people don’t understand. I know she’s been mocked for this, but I admire her for it.
I also know what you mean about having an emotional connection to an artist and buying their stuff no matter what. In college I became a Better Than Ezra fan. I’ve been to so many of their concerts and bought all of their albums. And even though some of their newer songs have disappointed me over the years, I can still pop in one of their CDs and feel like I’m 19 again, on a road trip to Charleston.
@Zeluna: I once heard some describe Fiona like this: “She doesn’t perform music; she channels it.” I thought that was a great observation and description.
I should also add that I’m a very piano-oriented person, and that’s another reason why I so appreciate Fiona’s music. And even though I’m a very, very, very amateur player, her songs allow me to fantasize that I can one day tickle the ivories that beautifully. Haha. I’m such an escapist.
Thanks Rachel.
The look in her eyes at the end of the video; there’s murder in those eyes.
Just watched ; don’t know how ya can’t be smitten by that sexy minx :)
Finally, caught the link to Rufus Wainwright doing . Has a very young Dakato Fanning in it. Supermodels wish they could have her beauty and poise in that video .
@mockmook: You’ve heard Fiona’s version of Across the Universe, right?
Awwww, geeeez. All of a sudden it’s dusty in here….
I don’t see a problem with changing plans because your faithful companion is dying. Be it a dog, cat, or whatever, they become such a major part of your life that losing them is painful beyond words.
If you’d like to see something remarkable, I’d suggest checking out the 3 different trailers/clips for the movie of . I didn’t even know Anne Hathaway or Russell Crowe could sing. And while I knew he could sing, seeing & hearing Wolverine sing is a bit strange the first time it happens. :-)
@Jenn: Thanks, Jenn.
Saw the movie (Pleasantville) many years ago, but didn’t remember being in it.
Speaking of distinctive/beautiful voices, let me put in my plug for Sinead O’Connor.
She’s also somewhat of a vocal acrobat:
@mockmook: Someone who has kind of a Fiona-esque style is Heard her work?
I’m sympathetic, I had a dog die two years ago from addisons complications.
But that has got to be one heck of an expensive breach of contract case. For the amount she is likely to pay she could have had medicine flown out daily.
Rachel: Your last two paragraphs put me in the spirit of Deuteronomy 30:19: “I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse. Therefore choose life, that you and your offspring may live.” Hmm, what a choice. The dilemma!
(Yes, I’ve just compared our host to God. :-) )
LewK: I assume you mean Hugh Jackman. (Yeah, all those ‘Strailians look alike to me.) He’s an accomplished musicals actor, but I first came across his singing when he hosted the . Coincidentally, he even does a duet with Anne Hathaway (at 3:55) (meh), before heading towards a bravura finish.
For conventional singing by Anne Hathaway, I doubt you can beat this from Ella enchanted. (This particular version chosen specifically for this blog, of course.)
Jenn: “Hear her work”? Thanks a lot. Now the only way I can get “watch each other sleeeeeeeeep” (Dance Anthem Of The 80’s) out of my head is to replace it with “it breaks my hea-hea-hea-…-hea-heart” (Fidelity).
As an animal owner all my life and the wife of a veterinarian, I have experienced my share of “final moments” and each one has been crushingly hard, and yet has left me feeling deeply and peacefully connected to life as I remain behind, the witness. One, particularly poignant memory is of a very young horse, Boots. Boots was a champion among horses, easily an Olympic talent, but he had a degenerative bone disease that caused chronic lameness at barely 3 years of age. My dear friend owned him and struggled with the disease for 3 years. Boots was never “tamed” because you could never work him enough to get him trained due to the lameness. A tremendous athlete, he could easily and often did, just stand up and walk on his hind legs or do airs above the ground like a capriole, just for fun. He was high-strung, brilliant and very difficult in a naughty way. But so sweet. He would eat potato chips and watermelon. Loved beer and even would snack on danish occasionally.
But by the time he was six, my friend had had him on pain killers and other medications for over 2 years, even having an operation on his front feet called “nerving” to attempt to relieve the pain. Nothing helped. I was the one who convinced her it was necessary to put him down. So I was the one who was there. She could not do it. The night of the procedure, the vet (someone other than my husband) was very late. It was approaching 10 o’clock at night and the barn was completely silent, dark. Boots was down, comfortable, while I sat outside his stall, waiting. When I went in to get him he never rose even though I asked him to, which is very unusual for a horse. They always rise when you come into a stall and they are down in such a close space. They feel claustrophobic and need to stand. Boots just looked at me and closed his eyes. He let me put his halter on without moving, head down, accepting the halter willingly. I stood back and asked him to get up again. This time he gave me a long, steady look, as if to say, “So this is it. It’s time.” I said aloud, “Yes, Boots, it’s time.” He rose very carefully and put his head on my chest, just resting it there for a moment and breathed deeply. I could hear him take deep, steadying breaths. Then, like a champ, he put his head up and wanted out.
I opened the stall door and he walked out without a trace of a limp. He was determined to be brave. He almost made it, too, but when we got back behind the barn, in the darkness of the pasture, he tucked his head under my arm and-I am convinced-asked me to stay with him. I promised him I would.
It was very peaceful. Even the vet, who I can’t stand BTW, remarked on how peaceful the whole thing was. He was ready.
I didn’t tell his owner about the experience for YEARS. She never asked, unable to hear it, and I never volunteered, unable to say it.
Boots was a great horse.
As for Fiona, love her. The song The First Taste from her Tidal album is great. Still listen to it all the time. And Regina Spektor is great also.
Echoing the Fiona and Regina Spektor love and throwing in a Tori Amos for good measure.
I’ve restrained myself until now, but even my self-control has limits. So with the excuse that the fine people here need some distraction after the sad stories, here’s a list of live performances I’ve liked. (And into moderation I go…)
I confess that I’d never heard of Fiona Apple before. She is an amazing singer but she’s more than that – she’s obviously a very loving person, too.
Life’s a bastard sometimes, isn’t it? The more you care about those you love (whether human or animal) the more you’ll hurt when you lose them.
I’ll always choose to love, and accept the pain of loss (although as a northern Brit I’d obviously pretend to have been peeling onions, and deeply appreciate other people not believing me for a second and giving me a hug anyway).
At the end, it’s like she’s backing slowly away from the ledge. Like decompression, or something. Intense performance.
Yep, I love Fiona Apple too. There’s a rare level of musical sophistication to her work. I don’t think there’s anyone that really compares to her.
That first link wouldn’t work for me; can someone tell me which song it was that kept Rachel sane?
@Howard: Yes, yes! Exactly. Backing away from a ledge. Absolutely splendid performance from start to finish.
@Pastafarian: I agree, no one compares, that I can think of. And the song that kept me sane was Paper Bag. Try this link instead:
And at the moment, I’m once again obsessed with . The way this woman works words into an almost physical rhythm is amazing.
This!
Yup. Empathy. Palpable empathy at that.
If she were a person of spiritual means I would venture to say she had an “annointing”.