When the Recording Academy announced the nominations for the 63rd annual Grammy Awards last month, there were a few names that made me think, “Huh, they must be new.” Like the producer of Doja Cat’s hit song “Say So,” which was nominated for Song of the Year. It was produced by an artist named Tyson Trax, which sounds like the alias of someone too embarrassed to use their real name when producing Kidz Bop albums. As it turns out, Tyson Trax is an alias of Dr. Luke’s That really didn’t sit well with Fiona Apple.
I don’t know about you, but I had a perfectly good and normal weekend curled up in a fetal position in the shower glugging down a bottle of special occasion “End Times” wine in between racking sobs. Basically, I didn’t do shit. But as Kristian mentioned earlier, quite a few celebrities spent the weekend out in the streets with Black Lives Matter, protesting police brutality, spurred by the recent murders of George Floyd and Breanna Taylor by the police. Some of them didn’t even post about it on social media, they just showed up! But many more took to their notes apps instead to express their solidarity with the BLM movement. Billie Eilish took aim at #AllLivesMatter types telling them to “shut the fuck up.” And Lady Gaga came for Donald Trump, accusing him of “fueling a system that is already rooted in racism.” And the always outspoken Pink!, well she just re-posted Billie’s post. But it’s the thought that counts! #thoughtsandprayers.
Fiona Apple Says That Being Trapped In A Room With Quentin Tarantino And Paul Thomas Anderson Made Her Give Up Coke For Good
Picture Quentin Tarantino. Good. Now picture Quentin Tarantino on coke. Yikes, right? In a recent New Yorker interview, Fiona Apple said that being trapped in a screening room with Quentin and Paul Thomas Anderson, her boyfriend at the time, while on coke, was enough to scare her off the booger sugar forever. Fiona also said her relationship with Paul, whom she met in 1997 and dated for 3 years, was “painful and chaotic,” and that he was prone to violent outbursts. He never hit her, but he had “a temper,” and did shit like throw chairs and whisper rude things into her ear at parties. Paul’s with Maya Rudolph now, they have four kids together, and I hope I never hear about him whispering a cruel word into my queen’s ears!
I’m sure we all figured that the first musician to take a crack at a Christmas parody song about our current situation with President-elect Donald Trump might be Weird Al Yankovic or Alvin and The Chipmunks going through a rebellious phase, but it looks like it’s going to be…Fiona Apple?
Yesterday, Fiona Apple released a video on her Tumblr of herself singing a Trumpified version of the Nat King Cole holiday standard The Christmas Song. Posting a self-filmed cover song on Tumblr? I don’t care what age it says on Fiona Apple’s driver’s license; the spirit trapped insider her is clearly that of a 15-year-old. Fiona’s Christmas Song is slow and melancholy like the original, but instead of heartwarming yuletide images of roasted chestnuts and Jack Frost giving your face some temporary Botox, Fiona sings about entitlement and racism and Donald Trump “clawing at your clothes.”
Don’t hold my feet to the fire on this one, but I bet Fiona Apple filmed that in the airplane toilet of Blair Witch Airlines. I wish I could understand dogs, because I want to know what that dog in the background who won’t stop barking is trying to say. My guess is they’re trying to tell her to stop creeping people out and put some kibble in their dish, or to turn the damn phone 90 degrees and stop filming in portrait mode.
Donald Trump hasn’t responded to Fiona’s Christmas song yet. But I’m sure he’ll hop on Twitter just as soon as he decides between “Fiona Rotten Apple” or “Fiona, more like Fi-oh ma ears, that was just terrible.“
South America isn’t going to see Fiona Apple for a while, because she has pressed pause on her planned tour there and is staying in California with her best friend Janet the dog. The now 13-year-old pitbull who Fiona found tied to a tree in a park has a tumor in her chest and will fly up to heaven any day now. So Fiona isn’t leaving Janet’s side and will stay with her till the end. Fiona hand wrote a letter to her fans on lined paper, scanned it and posted it to Facebook. I’ve posted it after the cut, but I should warn you. Kryptonite is to Superman like this letter is to ice cold hearts. Sarah McLaughlin’s In The Arms of the Angel has nothing on this letter. On to the sadness….
It’s 6pm on Friday,and I’m writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I am 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 almost two 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 child. 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 jumped a few make shift families, but it’s always really been 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 dangerous for her to travel since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and to excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death. Despite all of this, she’s effortlessly joyful and playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago. She’s 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 that she is coming close to point where she will stop being a dog, and instead, 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 to pick which 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 and friendship. I am the woman who stays home and bakes Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend. And helps her be comfortable, and comforted, and safe, and 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 and 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 reveling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel.
And I am asking for your blessing.I’ll be seeing you.
Reading that letter was even sadder than watching Beaches on a loop while stoned. Some people might think Fiona’s letter is totally melodramatic and I probably would’ve thought that too if I didn’t have a dog friend who has dealt with my dumb ass for over 10 years. I would give him a hug right now, but he’s eating a treat and he’d probably bite eyes off if I got anywhere near his eatin’ space. So I’ll blow him an air kiss from afar.
And I love dogs with people names. And I really love dogs with the same name as the closeted lesbian on Three’s Company.
Above is Fiona “Let’s Smoke Out Of A Bong” Apple at a show in Houston Friday night, one day after she was put into handcuffs after cops found a little weed and some hash on her tour bus at an inspection checkpoint. Between songs, Fiona gave the audience classic Fiona Apple when she let out a rambling monologue full of DRAMA. Fiona accused 4 officers of the jail she was kept in of doing some possibly illegal shit. Fiona let them know that at any moment she can set that station on fire with the revelations that will pour of her mouth. Fiona has been watching too much Revenge. Pitchfork transcribed Fiona’s entire rant and it really has me wondering if I sound like that after smoking one too many bowls.
“Now, most of the people were very nice to me. There are four of you out there, and I want you to know that I heard everything you did. I wrote it all down with your names and everything you did and said stupidly thinking that I couldn’t hear or see you. I then ripped the paper up, but not before I encoded it and– I got two lock boxes. We’ll call them “holding cell one” and “holding cell two”. In “holding cell one” is the encoded version of the shit that you did that I know was inappropriate and probably illegal. In “holding cell two” is the decoder. I’m the only one who holds the key, and you and I will be intimate forever because I will hold that secret forever. Unless of course the celebrity that you had so much interest in but you wanted to accuse me of bringing up while you laughed at me all night? Unless you’re interested in being a celebrity, I’ll make you fucking famous any time you ask and I’ll open those boxes. So why don’t you stay in your fucking holding cell?”
But the Public Information Officer of the Hudspeth County Sheriff’s Department isn’t sitting in the corner of a dark room and shaking at the thought of Fiona destroying him with a bunch of lock boxes of SECRETS! Officer Rusty Fleming fought back at Fiona with an open letter that I swear was ghostwritten by Dionne Warwick. Officer Rusty looked Fiona up and down and basically said she ain’t shit. Fiona didn’t put a spotlight on Officer Rusty, Officer Rusty put a spotlight on her. Yes, he’s coming at her like that. TMZ has the letter and I snapped so much that the skin on my fingers rubbed off:
First, Honey, I’m already more famous than you, I don’t need your help. However, it would appear that you need mine.
Two weeks ago nobody in the country cared about what you had to say, — now that you’ve been arrested it appears your entire career has been jump-started. Don’t worry Sweetie, I won’t bill you.
Next, have you ever heard of Snoop, Willie or Armand Hammer? Maybe if you would read something besides your own press releases, you would have known BEFORE you got here, that if you come to Texas with dope, the cops will take your DOPE away and put YOU in jail.
Even though you and I only met briefly in the hallway, I don’t know you but I’m sure you’re an awesome and talented young woman and even though I’m not a fan of yours, I am sure there are thousands of them out there, and I’m sure that they would just as soon you get this all behind you and let you go back to what you do best—so my last piece of advice is simple “just shut-up and sing.”
More like QUEEN Rusty Fleming. When he started off with “First, Honey, I’m already more famous than you….” I thought he was going to end with “I took your stash and I’ll take YO MAN next, beeeee-otch!” Being an officer in Texas is fun. You get to take people’s stash away and smoke it while writing bitch-a-fied letters. I mean, Rusty gave himself away with that “I’m already more famous than you” line. We now know what he did with Fiona’s hash.