Thrill 4-1: The garden has a formal entrance {Parasol}

Yes, that's right. I'm dissecting The Beekeeper. One. Song. At. A. Time.

"Parasol" is such an unusual and distinctive song for Tori Amos, which has the rather odd effect of reminding me of songs by other artists.

The hammond organ opening manages to remind me of Sting's "The Hounds of Winter". I think the reminiscence is not only due to the instrument but also the modal harmony and the pacing. It's by no means a bad connection to have, nor a derivative one. There's just a similar mood.

Somehow "Parasol" also succeeds in reminding me of Wendy Matthews, although not any specific song. (For those not in the know, Wendy Matthews is an Australian singer of complex ethnic heritage - Spanish, Scottish and native Canadian spring to mind - whose glorious vocal gifts are not always matched by her choice of material. She needs to trust herself as a songwriter in my opinion.) I think it's the sense of formality and gravity that's conveyed here.

It's that sense of formality that really strikes me. The lyrics are (quite deliberately I think) stiff and stilted. Lines like "I haven't moved since the call came, since the call came I haven't moved" are not the kind of wandering fairy dust that Tori is sometimes accused of. The melody sticks very much to the beat. It seems appropriate that a song inspired by a Seurat painting should have this effect of austere beauty.

And it certainly is beautiful, particularly in the chorus which allows the melody to be slightly less angular. There are some exceedingly high harmonies in there that really do credit to Tori's ear for colour.

To me this is a song that will inspire deep admiration rather than any kind of ecstatic emotional response (it seems to be consistently generating positive mentions in reviews of the album). That's not a criticism - a song about a repressed character probably shouldn't be spilling out all over the place. Nevertheless it is surprising that a relaxed and unbuttoned album should start with such seriousness.