From the advance publicity, you could be forgiven for worrying that Tori Amos's new album might turn out to be a bit of a pretentious mess. Not only does she cite September 11 as a key inspiration (rarely a good sign), she also apparently conceived Scarlet's Walk as a concept record, detailing the travels and experiences of the eponymous heroine as she treks across America. Beneath these trappings, however, this turns out to be one of Amos's more restrained works - and frankly, it's all the better for it. Essentially a series of musical snapshots that have the feel of mood pieces rather than fully-fledged songs, they're distinguished by their lilting melodies, moping piano and the occasional interlude of mournful cello. And while the lyrics read like a catalogue of Americana, from fast cars to ancient mountains, Scarlet's Walk is really a travelogue of the heart as much as the road. Admittedly, her oblique approach makes it hard to know exactly what Amos is on about half the time. But she remains an intriguing singer of rare sensuality, and one whose ideas are always worthy of investigation.
