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Review: Raw emotion fuels new Morissette album

Story Highlights
Breakup with actor fiance Ryan Reynolds part of "Flavors of Entanglement"
Alanis Morissette's most affecting moment on the album is sparest
Morissette partners with producer, co-writer Guy Sigsworth
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By Leah Greenblatt
Entertainment Weekly

(Entertainment Weekly) -- Once upon a time -- oh, let's just call it North America in the mid-'90s, shall we? -- Weezer and Alanis Morissette were an inescapable part of the cultural landscape, churning out buoyant rock-radio hits (Weezer), wordy, eccentric anthems (Alanis), and MTV-friendly videos (both) with impressive consistency.

Alanis Morissette struggled to find a way to stay current after her last album failed to do well.

Each act's follow-ups, however, have failed to yield quite the success of their initial impact. So how, in the face of a never-ending rush of fresh industry blood, does an already established act stay relevant?

For Morissette, the answer on new CD "Flavors of Entanglement" seems to lie, for better or worse, in going through a really, really bad breakup.

The same kind of passion that fueled the 15-million-selling '95 smash "Jagged Little Pill" (was there ever a woman more excellently scorned than the Alanis who excoriated her lover on "You Oughta Know"?) is all over "Entanglement" -- thanks to a well-publicized split with actor fiance Ryan Reynolds.

Granted, at 34, she still writes too often in the histrionic, no-one-has-ever-felt-what-I-feel style of a feverishly journaling liberal-arts major.

Even so, the rawness of her hurt adds heft to eff-you screeds like the thunderous "Versions of Violence," and she's found an able partner in producer and co-writer Guy Sigsworth, a onetime Björk collaborator.

His dense, swirling compositions seem to push Morissette's boundaries, conjuring her inner Princess of Darkness on the glitchy, gothy "Straitjacket" and exploring Far Eastern exotica on the tabla-tinged opener "Citizen of the Planet."

But her most affecting moment may be the most stripped down. A barely-there piano is all the accompaniment needed on the broken, fragile ballad "Not as We," on which her voice cracks heartbreakingly over the lines "From scratch begin again, but this time, I as I/And not as we."

Somehow, a devastating personal experience has galvanized her songwriting in a way that domestic bliss, as showcased on 2004's disappointing "So-Called Chaos," could not.

EW Grade: B+

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