Review: Alanis Morissette's 'Jagged' angst resonates anew in St. Paul concert

Alanis Morissette is still angry after all these years.

Twenty-seven years after her landmark album of youthful alt-rock angst, "Jagged Little Pill," was released, the middle-aged, married mother of three hit the Xcel Energy Center stage Sunday night with ferocious urgency.

With her harmonica wailing and her voice soaring even louder, she pleaded for calm, comfort, common ground and intellectual intercourse (her words) on the opening "All I Really Want."

"And all I really want is some justice," she screamed.

When she delivered that diatribe at age 21, it was aimed at an unreciprocating lover. Today, the words resonate anew, aimed at, well, pick your target.

Isn't it ironic that the songs of "Jagged Little Pill" are as impactful today as they were in 1995?

On Sunday, Morissette, 48, performed all the "Jagged" numbers, though not sequentially. She used videos to amplify the messages loudly and clearly. For example, "All I Really Want" was accompanied by clips and photos of Black Lives Matter protests and marches for women's rights.

The super-serious singer even injected a little humor, mentioning her kids — ages 3, 6 and 11 — during "You Learn," which was written about life lessons, not distance learning.

Her "Jagged" hits resounded big time at the X. "Ironic," which lists a series of things that aren't necessarily ironic, turned into a giant singalong, with the star making a slight lyrical twist changing "beautiful wife" to "beautiful husband." And the galvanizing anthem "You Oughta Know" had Morissette — and 11,500 others — belting at the top of their lungs.

Adding to the edginess of her performance, Morissette was consistently manic, menacingly stalking the stage from side to side, pretty much like she did when she rocked the Twin Cities regularly in 1995-'96.

Her voice remains one of rock's treasures, part purr, part falsetto and part roar — all emotions overflowing. Those facets of her arresting pipes were fully manifested on "Mary Jane" — from soothing coo to sustained high note.

Musically and emotionally, Morissette has always come across like the little sister of Joni Mitchell and Heart's Ann Wilson. She is at turns introspectively confessional and maniacally rocking, favoring unconventional songs full of deep feelings, big words and big ideas.

In her 90-minute set, Morissette mixed in a handful of tunes from "Such Pretty Forks in the Road" from 2020 when she originally planned to tour to celebrate the 25^th anniversary of "Jagged Little Pill" (and its arrival as a Broadway musical in 2019). The pandemic derailed those plans.

Too many of her newer songs were limited to snippets of a verse or chorus. The exceptions were "Ablaze," about keeping the light in her kids' eyes burning, and "Smiling," about rebounding after hitting rock bottom. Written for the Broadway show, "Smiling" was a brooding, dramatic highlight, complete with the singer spinning in circles under strobe lights.

In her first Twin Cities appearance in 10 years, the Canadian star said precious little to the audience beyond a few thank-you's and introducing the five band members. After they finished "Ironic," a photo of the late Foo Fighters drummer Taylor Hawkins appeared on a giant screen with the words "in memory." It would have been appropriate for Morissette to mention that Hawkins had been her drummer on the 1995-96 tour for "Jagged Little Pill."

Not surprisingly, Morissette did not offer any material from this year's project, "The Storm Before the Calm," a meditative, New Age-y exploration that did not fit thematically or sonically with the rest of the program.

Opening the concert was Garbage, a kindred 1990s band that still blasts with angsty authority. Singer Shirley Manson mentioned that the electro-rock group played its first ever gig in Minneapolis, at 7^th St. Entry in 1995. At 55, she remains an unstoppable spitfire who scorched as vitriolically on new material from last year's "No Gods No Masters" as she did on Garbage's '90s gems "Only Happy When It Rains" and "Stupid Girl." Manson and company seemed as vibrant and vital now as they did in their heyday.