"The way I feel about music -- any song, any style -- is that there is
no right and wrong, only true and false.  If the music and lyrics are
conceived out of honesty and if the production of the song goes along
with its original message, then what has been expressed is art
regardless of what anyone's opinion is of it.  So things are a lot
simpler if you just tell the truth."

Sage words.  Insightful words.  Spoken like a venerable music veteran
who's seen it all and maintained integrity at all costs.  Except they
weren't.  They were spoken by a debut artist.  One who is yet to
perform for the public.  One who is 18 years old.  But once you hear
Fiona Apple's Tidal, her debut album on WORK/ Clean Slate, you will
not doubt that those words come from a wisdom that is beyond age, that
is inherent, uncompromising and straight from the heart.

Tidal is ten timeless songs.  THe music defies boundaries, the lyrics
pure evocative poetry -- what you'd expect from someone who's sole
influence is Maya Angelou. Although Fiona Apple is first and foremost
a songsmith, her piano and haunting, dusky voice are the ultimate
vehicles for her art.  "It wasn't that I didn't think I had a nice
voice, but I consider myself more a writer," Fiona explains.  "I played
piano since I was about eight, and always wrote songs -- I sang them
because it wouldn't make sense for anyone else to."

Such songs as "Shadowboxer," Tidal's chill-inducing first single,
which explores the danger of desire and vulnerability gains an eerie
musical motif.  Or the steadfast promise -- to seduce?  succeed? 
Fiona hints but won't disclose -- of "Slow Like Honey."  Songs that
can rock with only the merest suggestion of guitar ("Criminal"), bring
you to your feet with delicate danceability ("The First Taste"), soar
with a rare glimpse of the upper register ("Never Is A Promise") or
pulse with implacable strength to music that is stark, percussive and
forthrightly primal ("Sleep To Dream").

The songs on Tidal reveal an old-soul eloquence and depth that make
rules (paying one's dues, building a fan base, etc.,etc.) rather
irrelevant.  Not that Fiona denied or refused to follow them -- they
just didn't apply.  "This is something I think I've always wanted to
do but didn't say aloud -- I wouldn't admit it to myself, because
admitting it meant making myself vulnerable to the possibility that it
might not happen, and that thought was unbearable.  I didn't want to
make a move until I knew it was the right thing,"  Fiona says.  "And I
wasn't sure until about a year ago."

That's when "I decided the doors were open for me,"  Fiona, a native
New Yorker, says.  "It's not so much that this is my destiny but I
made it my destiny -- it's impossible to imagine life not doing what
you want to do."  So Fiona, the progeny of an artistic family )her
father is an actor and her mother is a real renaissance woman --
singer, dancer, nutrionist, fitness trainer, cook) came to Los Angeles
to spend time with her dad, complete her high school education through
independent study -- and do a demo.

Her objective was to make a slew of tapes and send them out widely --
but she wound up saving the postage.  As soon as the tapes were done,
Fiona went home to NYC for Christmas, bringing a few copies of her
demo along.  One tape wound up in the hands of a friend who happened
to baby-sit for a prominent music industry executive; the friend
passed the three-song demo on to the exec, who in turn played it for a
holiday party guest:  producer and manager Andrew Slater.  "Andy
called and said he wanted to meet me," says Fiona, "and we've been
working together ever since."

At the time, however, Fiona didn't have enough material she felt to be
album quality. "Songs don't just pour out -- so I pressured myself to
write," she says.  "Id' write two songs a week, and I don't know how I
managed it because every time I write a song I don't think I'll be
able to write another ever again."

Once she was satisfied with the songs, she entered the studio with
carious musicians she'd met through Slater.  No parts were written --
which translates into Tidal's breathless spontaneity (indeed, several
tracks are one-take wonders) and a certain tendency toward
improvisational fade-outs.  "We just played," Fiona says simply.

Upon the album's release, Fiona embarks on the next phrase: 
performing.  "I know it's going to change my life...I'm looking
forward to it -- I think that's what all this blood, sweat and tears
has been for," she says with a small, dauntless smile.  "I'll be
nervous, but what else can I do?  I won't go backwards."

While Fiona Apple's lyrics may be interpreted in many ways, the
overriding message of her debut is that life is the sum of experience
-- painful and joyous, tangible and emotional, positive and negative. 
"My album is called Tidal partly because all this has hit me like a
tidal wave but also because 'tidal' refers to ebbing and flowing, and
that's really what life is, a constant ebb and flow."

For Fiona Apple, the tide is high -- and the time is now.