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For those who didn’t grow up in the nineties, the name Fiona Apple is both familiar and puzzling. The singer-songwriter first broke into the music scene with her deep vocal timbre and the soul-infused, rock single, “Criminal,” (( Apple, Fiona. “Criminal.” Tidal, Epic Records, 1996, track 4. Spotify. )) and from there, her career was launched into the critical stratosphere.
Apple is also notable for her scathing speech after winning a 1997 MTV Video Music Award. “Everybody that’s watching this world? This world is bullshit,” she said through scattered groans and boos from the audience. “You shouldn’t model your life about what you think that we think is cool, and what we’re wearing, and what we’re saying and everything. Go with yourself” (( MTV. 2018. “Fiona Apple’s Acceptance Speech at the 1997 Video Music Awards | MTV.” YouTube Video. YouTube.” )). Apple became well known for this kind of brutal sincerity – which, along with her sultry music videos, the media didn’t take well to.
That isn’t to say Apple isn’t a household name, but she’s not as celebrated as she should be. Instead, there tends to be a tentativeness when discussing her mastery — her tumultuous relationships and previous drug use (( Sharf, Zack. “Fiona Apple Says ‘Excruciating Night’ With Paul Thomas Anderson, Tarantino Changed Her Life.” IndieWire, 16 Mar. 2020. )) usually taking center stage. When Apple fought back against these criticisms she was deemed too dramatic, and when she crooned about romantic pitfalls, too sensitive. But, her music spoke for itself.
A song that encapsulates all the vulnerability, empathy, sensitivity, and effortless lyricism Fiona Apple should be known for is “I Know,” (( Apple, Fiona. “I Know.” When The Pawn…, Epic Records, 1999, track 10. Spotify.” )) from her sophomore album, “When The Pawn…”. In it, Apple explores the intricacies of a clandestine relationship, using weighty lyricism and largo instrumentation to render a snapshot of how patience isn’t always abated as time goes on— sometimes, it only grows stronger.
Analyzing The Lyrics Of “I Know“
Any of Fiona Apple’s songs could be put under the microscope and dissected at length as they all have unplumbed meaning that sits beneath their lyrical surface. However, “I Know” provides the opportunity to look at a song that deals with subject matter that Apple was largely criticized for by the media. Illicit, dysfunctional relationship? Check. Searing, unrivaled ballad, also, check. Apple took a topic that was used as a hot seat for her public image and was able to instill it with compassionate and unguarded lyricism. In the 90s, this wasn’t the catalyst for others to align themselves with her, but taking a second, closer look (with less recency bias), its supreme penning and instrumentals should have been.
First Half
“I Know” opens with Apple singing the lyrics:
“So be it I’m your crowbar/ That’s what I am so far/ Until you get out of this mess.”
(( “I Know.” Genius. 2022. Accessed 17 Sept. 2022. ))
From the get-go, the audience is met with a clear image of the narrator’s position in this relationship. A crowbar is used to pry open something that’s stuck, presumably to set free whatever is inside. Here, Apple uses the metaphor to express devotion to the disheveled partner – a mess of their own making, due to infidelity. She relegates the narrator to a tool used to open doors for her partner, with the expectation that, one day, they’ll come to their senses, and fully commit. This theme of sacrifice continues throughout the song, with the narrator simultaneously growing more aware of their place, doing their thing “in the background,” (( “I Know.” Genius. 2022. Accessed 17 Sept. 2022. )) as the other woman, while also being even more open to atonement.
“And you can use my skin / To bury secrets in / And I will settle you down.”
(( “I Know.” Genius. 2022. Accessed 17 Sept. 2022. ))
The act of burying, “to dispose of by depositing in or as if in the earth,” (( “bury.” Merriam-Webster, 2022. Accessed 17 Sept. 2022. )) secrets, especially in someone’s skin, is a level more extreme than being a tool used for the betterment of a partner. In this song, it’s an intrusion on the physical being of the narrator, and after the fact, they promise to calm whatever pain secrets are causing their lover. Here, the narrator gives up their own peace of mind, with no reservations or quid-pro-quo. This is emphasized with the mini chorus at the end of each verse, in which the narrator admits they know of their lover’s transgressions, shortcomings, and gut-wrenchingly, the commitment they have to their other relationship.
“But all the time, all the time/ I’ll know, I’ll know.”
(( “I Know.” Genius. 2022. Accessed 17 Sept. 2022. ))
Second Half
Apple’s narrator’s tolerance is tested and proved formidable through the song, and although there is a moment where listeners might expect a shift in tone after the bridge,
“Baby / I can’t help you out/ While she is still around.”
(( “I Know.” Genius. 2022. Accessed 17 Sept. 2022. ))
But none comes. Instead, Apple’s narrator gives the most vivid description of her restraint, a final surrender:
“And when the crowd becomes your burden/ And you’ve early closed your curtain/ I’ll wait by the backstage door/ While you try to find/ The lines to speak your mind/ And pry it open, hoping for an encore/ And if it gets too late, for me to wait/ For you to find you love me, and tell me so/ It’s ok, don’t need to say it.”
(( “I Know.” Genius. 2022. Accessed 17 Sept. 2022. ))
Not only will the narrator wait at the backstage door for their lover, but they also don’t even need a true love confession — The narrator accepts them with open arms, even while knowing of the downfalls.
Analyzing The Instrumentation Of “I Know”
The production and instrumentation on this track only heighten the feelings of loyalty expressed in the song. “I Know” is first and foremost a ballad, but it is also greatly influenced by jazz and blues numbers. With a slow-moving piano consistently in the background, minor chords scattered throughout, and a 6/8 time signature – which denotes the song as not pure jazz or blues, but pop and folk as well – the song spurs a laid-back, yet questioning feeling.
The 6/8 time signature along with the minor chords add the element of waltzy push-and-pull, while the relaxed tempo concurrently creates the same aura one might experience rocking back and forth on a porch swing. Combined with the lyrics, the audience is lured into a passive state, while also hearing some of the most heart-wrenching proclamations. From this, one can gather that the narrator is slow-jamming out to a painful situation, even willingly immersing themselves in it.
There are a couple of key moments when the audience expects a deviation from the narrator’s supreme patience, but they do not waver. As aforementioned, during the bridge there is a lyrical precipice:
“Baby / I can’t help you out / While she is still around.”
(( “I Know.” Genius. 2022. Accessed 17 Sept. 2022. ))
Sonically, the piano, strings, and drums all crescendo into this line, and then intensely decrescendo on “still.” All the instruments drop to a murmur as if a breath is being held. Just before all sounds patter out, the hi-hat downbeat catches on again, and the listener is thrown back into push-and-pull mode. Instead of continuing with a new thread about how they can’t help their lover if they continue their other relationship, the narrator then goes on about continuing to be “patient” and “waiting at the backstage door.”
In The End
“I Know,” concludes with a familiar lyrical and instrumentation pattern. As Apple croons the fourth and final verse, the piano continues to push through with its hardy sound, the upright bass punctuates her words, and the string accompaniment flourishes, crescendoing into the final line:
“And if it gets too late, for me to wait/ For you to find you love me, and tell me so/ It’s ok, don’t need to say it.”
(( “I Know.” Genius. 2022. Accessed 17 Sept. 2022. ))
As a listener, one expects the next line to be the final mini-chorus — “I’ll know/ I’ll know” — but the words never arrive. Instead, the piano, bass, and strings continue pulsating out the same, steady melody, until an ascending arpeggio paired with a ritardando concludes the number. The final lyrics, — “It’s ok, don’t need to say it” — and deliberate silence after confirm what the narrator has been imploring their lover to understand the entire tune: they don’t need excuses, answers, or even apologies, they’ll know.’
Fiona Apple’s “I Know” paints a severe and vivid portrait of a relationship that everyone knows is doomed from the outside, but on the inside, there’s an elusive sliver of hope. It’s not only an exemplar example of her songwriting, but it sets itself apart as a response to the kinds of criticisms she was receiving at the time.
