What little may exist lies veiled in lyrical obscurity.
Bitter spiritual confusion and a distaste for Christianity appear on several cuts, including “Muhammad My Friend” (“It was a girl back in Bethlehem/And on that fateful day when she was crucified/She wore Shiseido Red and we drank tea”). “Father Lucifer” flippantly asks the devil, “How’s your Jesus Christ been hanging?” Amid orgasmic breathiness, Amos repeatedly blurts “Starf-er just like my daddy” on “Professional Widow,” a song that may allude to heroin use. “Blood Roses” is darkly erotic while “Doughnut Song” expresses hatred.
Amos claims her songs reflect the breakdown of patriarchy and the idea of women rising to claim their own power. Maybe, but when she’s not spouting obscenities, blaspheming God or bashing men, she whines despairingly and enigmatically with ridiculous lines like, “If I lose my Cracker Jacks at the tidal wave, I got a place in the Pope’s rubber robe.” Huh? One of the CD photos shows this disturbed artist breast-feeding a pig. A weird, acerbic and pointless effort.