Be nice to me or treat me mean, I'll make the most of it, I'm an Extraordinary Machine

A silhouetted figure does a lock-kneed skip to her seat at the piano. Her wispy shape is discernable through an illuminated sapphire dress. Her signature hair hangs straight, a sanctuary for her fine-boned face. Fiona Apple has taken the stage.

After the first bars of Get Him Back, her legendary neurosis is more than apparent. But what a beautiful neurosis it is. Her voice swings from passionate growls to harmonious sopranos as her hands pound out the notes that made her known. It seems as if the audience is an afterthought. Like we are privy to a breakthrough therapy session.

There is an old theory that the crazier the brain, the more brilliant the genius. And Fiona’s obsessive-compulsions are synonymous with her music. Her mentality is superceded only by her talent. Emotions bubble at her surface, enabling her to put them in a lyrical stronghold. It is her ability to so accurately and gorgeously capture the inner workings of dysfunctional female minds that has lead to her cult following, despite only releasing three albums in ten years.

As Fiona leaves the safety of her piano, venturing to the mic stand front and center, her twitches and ticks are increasingly evident. The movements manifest her spiraling rotation between sensitivity and aggression. She clenches a fist around the waistline of her dress. She swings the microphone cable from a wrenched wrist. She thrusts her knee to the side and cocks her heel beside her hip. Listening to her songs is no preparation for her performance. Her presentation seems more remedy than recital. Watching her work through these emotions is the entertainment. She leaves the stage, returning to the moments that sparked each song, her brain retreating to the raw sentiments of the lyrics, the passion of the melody. And we see the gyrations, the jerks of her angst and elation alike. Interpretive dance or otherworldly expression, she is the outer representation of internal conflict.

It is the deep lyrics and pounding harmonies that fuel the jolts and the vocal instability. During the stirring Used To Love, she shrinks into a feeble squat while belting “I’m either so sick in the head I need to be bled dry to quit” and hammers her palm against her skull. This motion is not uncommon. It is the same position from which she bellows, “You say love is a hell you cannot bare, I say give me mine back and then go there for all I care.” She then stands triumphantly, confidently, to croon the Sleep to Dream chorus with its melodic, lofty notes.

The dancing is jarring at first and, at times, uncomfortable. It gives the impression of a profoundly cathartic undertaking and we are not viewers, but voyeurs stealing unsolicited glimpses into a fragile psyche.

When she breaks into Paper Bag there is a delicate shift. The song acknowledges her psychosis. And while it is not her only self-deprecating, explanatory hymn, it is the first of the evening. It is a clarification that, yes, she’s a little bit crazy, she knows it and she's imprisoned by it. The chorus goes:

Hunger hurts and I want him so bad it kills
Cause I know I’m a mess he don’t wanna clean up
I’ve got to fold cause these hands are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts but starving works
When it costs too much to love

She doesn’t want to risk falling in love, because she’ll be hurt by someone that doesn’t understand her and will only let her down. As she sings these lines, a weight is lifted in the acknowledgement. The audience breathes. The elephant in the room has not only been identified, it has been accepted. Let the dancing continue.

In admitting her mental state, she is validating every woman who has ever felt crazy over a guy. And that’s why we love her. She puts words to the emotions we are taught to suppress and ignore. It is rare that you will find a woman unable to relate to her finely-crafted lines. Going from a lover to friend is most definitely a cruel thing to pretend and a very cunning way to condescend, as her first hit, Shadowboxer, dictates. We’re all “tired of whys, choking on whys, just need a little because, because,” just like Fast As You Can says.

And that is why Fiona Apple is so widely adored and will continue to be relevant. As long as women are unstable, Fiona’s songs will be there to right their minds. She lets us know we’re not alone. And when she is overcome with those emotions, she can move however she wants. It’s beautiful.