After seven years of absence and all the controversies related to Extraordinary Machine (Sony doesn't want it released because it's not commercial enough, the album leaks online and is appreciated by fans, fans start sending protest apples to Sony, the album is re-recorded and produced by Elizondo, perhaps it was Fiona herself who wasn't happy with the final result, etc.), Fiona Apple, a singer-songwriter of talent and depth, returns.

The album was preceded by the single “Every Single Night,” a quirky ballad where the minimal arrangement of the verses gives way to the vocal power of the choruses. The arrangements are minimal (almost exclusively piano and percussion) and highlight Fiona's voice, more dramatic than ever. The voice ranges from calm to desperate tones (listen, for example, to “Daredevil” and “Regret”) with a maturity that lends solidity to the pieces. The percussion is varied and gives rhythm to Fiona's “diary,” expressing itself through complex compositions and very poetic lyrics.

The album presents itself as very homogeneous, and at first listen, it's even difficult to distinguish many tracks. However, as you continue to listen, you begin to see all the nuances, and each song becomes a little pearl to be cherished jealously. Fiona is light-years away from the young girl in “Criminal” who enjoyed teasing men. Today she is a woman who knows herself and unapologetically shares all the characteristics of her personality and the events that affect her. Thus, she tells us about the frustration of overthinking, of the fear that grips her every night of not being able to turn into reality the ideas floating in her mind (“Every Single Night// I endure the flight// of little wings of white-flamed// butterflies in my brain”), of her adventurous spirit that often leads her to change and fall (“I guess// I just// must // be a daredevil”). Of course, love pains cannot be missing: and if in “Valentine” Fiona feels like a tulip in a cup, unable to grow because of a relationship that cannot flourish, in “Left Alone” she admits that often the problem is herself and her sensitivity (“Oh and I tried to love// And I can love the same man, in the same bed// in the same city// But not in the same room). In my opinion, “Werewolf” is the most surprising and beautiful track of the whole set, a classic à la Fiona, with piano and voice (with a brief intrusion of guitars and screams of a school class in the background), where the anger of being almost cannibalized and left moribund by the loved one gives way to resignation and clarity that not all relationships are meant to be eternal (“Nothing wrong when// a song ends/in a minor key”). The album concludes with “Hot Knife,” a soundtrack-like piece, with driving, almost “cannibalistic” percussion, and a vocal symphony characterized by very beautiful and complex counter-choruses. Here too, Fiona delights us with one of her many metaphors (“If I’m butter, If I’m butter// If I’m butter, then he’s a hot knife”). This piece represents a bit of calm after the storm, the hope that the future may be better and that disappointments and angers will strengthen us and lead to our goal.

In short, “The Idler Wheel…” is a difficult album, challenging at first listens. But slowly these fragile and indestructible compositions, sensitive and cynical get under your skin and you realize that ultimately this album speaks of your weaknesses, of what you sometimes can’t express, of the things that leave you stunned on the ground without anyone to help you back up. And I thank Fiona for yet another album that shows us her soul full of scars, but always ready to fight.

Ps. I highly recommend purchasing the deluxe edition. It is a real work of art

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