Under Rug Swept

(Maverick)

It's troubling to be a cultural icon, to be an artist whose prior work stands as the defining representative of a particular cultural moment. That moment invariably passes, new fads evolve and the artist is left struggling against irrelevancy.

Take Alanis Morissette. Her Jagged Little Pill album channeled post-grunge aggression, giving it a decidedly feminine inflection that would foster that whole Lilith Fair trend. "You Oughta Know" stands so firmly as a cultural landmark that many reviewers, including myself, find it impossible to discuss any of Morissette's current endeavors without making the reference - of telling the narrative of her fall from glory.

Morissette's recent release, Under Rug Swept, however, grants the artist some redemption. Parting ways with longtime producer Glen Ballard, who headed up her last two albums, this release returns the artist to her Jagged roots, as she once again explores the trials and tribulations of relationships, only in a much more subdued form. Morissette is still desperately in need of an editor, as her lyrics ramble on in awkward sentence structures, unnecessarily elevated diction and generally fucked-up syntax (see the title). While the orchestration is more refined (though takes fewer risks) than her second album, Morissette's loquaciousness still dampens the overall effect.

The album is a moderate piece of work, with a few notable hits among its 12 tracks ("Hands Clean," "Precious Illusions"), but Morissette seems unable to command the cultural currency she once wielded. Perhaps the album's title is making a commentary on this, and Morissette is just fine with her fading celebrity. Perhaps not. Either way, Under Rug Swept is not about to put the Queen of Pain back on her throne.