Published Oct. 20, 2005, in the Waukesha Freeman

Review by Matthew Webber

I'll let Fiona Apple speak for herself:

"Be kind to me, or treat me mean," she sings on the title track of her new album, "Extraordinary Machine." "I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine."

I'll be kind to her, and she can make of it whatever she wants:

Apple remains an extraordinary artist.

After spending the last six years either retired from playing piano, censored by her record label or some other behind-the-music episode that silenced her husky voice, Apple now sounds free, whether last year's "Free Fiona" campaign had anything to do with finally liberating the album (and the artist) or not.

In fact, unburdened from all of the media-manufactured baggage and (not so) clever critical metaphors, Apple sounds happy, relaxed and confident to write and perform music again.

These emotions are evident from the official album's first line, "I certainly haven't been shopping for any new shoes," to its last, from "Waltz," "Everyone else's goal is to get big-headed/Why should I follow that beat, being that I'm better than fine?"

So, lyrically but also musically, Apple is doing much better than fine. The aforementioned songs, the bookends of the official album, are the only tracks that remain from the otherwise scrapped sessions with longtime producer Jon Brion, the very ones that leaked onto the Internet and turned Apple into an alleged victim of the music industry's original sins.

The rest of the songs, including one that wasn't downloaded, "Parting Gift," are produced by Dr. Dre's bassist Mike Elizondo of all people, which doesn't really matter as much as you'd expect.

Fans and critics can quibble whether Apple's songs sound better as cinematic soundscapes or as hip-hop jams, and it's a fun game to play. For most of the songs, I prefer the soundscapes, but, then again, I've had months to let those versions sink in, so why don't I play the new versions one more time today?

However, both producers wisely abstained from the debate. Both producers understood how extraordinary the songs were on their own.

Whichever album you choose to listen to over and over again, the one you downloaded with the cellos or the one you bought with the drumming from ?uestlove from the Roots, what you'll remember are the melodies, as awkward yet logical as anything from "When the Pawn ..." stickier yet much more surprising than much of what actually gets played on the radio.

What you'll quote are the lyrics, simple yet poetic, painful yet universal, images of dogs, diamond miners, and others who love and leave and hurt you regardless.

It won't matter that, compared to the Brion symphonies, some of the Elizondo tracks, namely "Not About Love," sound naked, or like they're missing an Eminem cameo.

If you're a fan, you'll recognize how timeless the title track should be, how comfortable, familiar and inviting it would sound in a Cole Porter or Irving Berlin musical, not to mention a World War II-era cabaret, even if it took six years to finally hear it.

If you're a fan, you'll be listening to everything on "Extraordinary Machine," much longer than that, maybe as long as you've listened to "Tidal."