Tori Amos at the Orpheum

This is who I wish I could be:



Last night, I went to my first Tori Amos concert. It was really powerful, because I've been a fan of Tori for almost as long as I've been a fan of good music. I first noticed her in middle school when "Silent All These Years" – despite being five years old by then – was still getting frequent airplay on Star 98.7. The song occupied a slot on my mix tapes (oh, those were the days) next to Jewel, The Gin Blossoms, and other things I haven’t listened to in years. I distinctly remember stopping by my friend Darcy’s sister’s place on our way to San Deigo and seeing her CD case full of Tori’s stuff. Hm, I thought. When I got deep into Pumpkins fandom in 1999, the alt.music boards were raving about her latest release, To Venus and Back. So I got it, as well as her debut Little Earthquakes. Since then I’ve always considered her my favorite female musician out there. I went through a particularly strong Tori period in 2006. She's in my all-time contemporary top tier. So this was a big deal.

As usual, I was curious to see what the demographic spread of this audience would be. As I suspected, it was quite diverse. There were a lot of couples there, ranging from 15 to 40, and I wondered how many of the male halves were tagalongs or dragalongs. There were a few girl couples, and I spotted two guys that I suspected were an item as well. Directly in front of us were more of those ubiquitous, teenie-weenie black-hoodie-and-jeanagers that insist on following me around, and yet, there were even a few gray heads in the audience without associated adolescent baggage.

The opener came on, a young, barefoot guy with an acoustic guitar and a lot of fancy stuff down at his feet. He used his guitar as a percussive instrument to accompaniy his own playing, and was really quite skilled at this. His voice reminded me at times of Brian Molko from Placebo. I wish I had caught his name or seen it in print, because I don’t think I’ve seen someone play quite like that, and I’m curious to see what his story is.

At last, Tori’s three piece band began to play. The drummer and bassist occupied the back corners, while the guitarist hung around at left stage. In the center stood a piano bench, flanked on one hand by a grand piano and on the other by an electronic keyboard on top of an upright piano. Tori's throne. The song was the poppy “Bouncing Off Clouds,” one of the catchy standouts from the latest album, American Doll Posse. A bright white strobe light layered over pitch black set the tone for the night, which turned out, for better or worse, to be a veritable light show. Tori emerged with dark hair, a dark purple dress and heels. She was playing Clyde, one of five alter egos (the 'Posse', which includes herself) she assumes on ADP. The songs on the record are divided among these characters, and “Bouncing Off Clouds” is Clyde’s song. So were the other new selections played during the first set. She has been playing a different character for the beginning of each show on this tour. Clyde, supposedly based on the Greek Persephone, had a distinct way of moving and being that was different from Tori's, slightly more Stevie Nicks, perhaps. But there was no mistaking Tori's incredible singing, which was even more angelic, raw, and emotive live than on record.

By limiting herself to one character's set of ADP songs, Tori allowed plenty of room for her classics. The second song she launched into was the title track from Little Earthquakes, letting the audience know that their old favorites would not be ignored. In fact, half of the offerings were from previous albums. With a fifteen-year career and a cult-like fan following such as she has, that is probably the best strategy. And it was clear that as may times as she must have played the mid-nineties songs, she was far from tired of them. In “Earthquakes,” the rising desperation of the climactic mantra, “Give me life / give me pain/ give me my / self again” rang as true as if it were spontaneously created. Set one continued with the ADP tracks “Girl Disappearing” (a personal favorite of mine) and “Beauty of Speed,” as well as the darkly textured "Juarez" and a theatrically gestured “Little Amsterdam."

“Clyde” left to change costumes and return to her identity as “Tori.” I realized this was the second concert I’d been to in a row that involved alter egos and costume change, and wondered what that said about me. While she was off, the boys in the band rocked out in a pretty kickass interlude.

Tori strutted back out in an intensely sparkly one-piece that caught whatever colors the lights were favoring, which in this case was gold. The song was “Big Wheel,” a saucy, uptempo ADP standout sung – again, like all the new material that followed – by the “Tori” character. Oozing confidence, Tori chanted, “I am an M-I-L-F, don’t you forget.” It’s so true. Even with her controversial straightened hair, which I love, she may be the hottest 44-year old in the business. This was one number from ADP I was really eager to see live, and it didn’t disappoint. Tori's sexual energy dominates the stage in a way that is wholly different from the pop-sexuality in a Britney or even a Madonna gig. It has a spontaneous, wild, organic dimension that most female performers fail to harness. Even in her most theatricized moments, Tori Amos is unabashedly real. In her impassioned performance of "Spacedog", Tori straddled the bench with one hand on each keyboard. The powerful "Sugar" was followed by a rousing rendition of “Cornflake Girl,” a perennial favorite. Half-on and half-off the bench, she attacked the upper registers of the grand piano like and injured animal struggling to escape as cheers went up in recognition. If anything, her older songs seemed to bring out more passion than mid-career material like “Spring Haze.” By contrast we were spellbound during the eerie, delicate “Bells For Her,” which once again had Tori seemingly suspended between keyboards. At one point, she played an absolutely gorgeous thing I'd never heard, one of my favorites of the nights, which I later confirmed was pure improv. That's my girl.

Tori took a moment to chat with us a bit, leading up to a cute impromptu ditty about how she hates going through border check (the next show is in Montreal). She manages to come off as both ribald and demure, her quiet speech casually peppered with obscenities. This is, after all, a person who once dated Trent Reznor. A woman at the end of our row, who was kind enough to share her binoculars with us, had happened to meet Tori outside the theater at 4pm when the buses had arrived. She had hugged her and gotten her album signed. I was intensely jealous of this. But perhaps to have met two of my idols in one month would have been too much to ask the gods of fandom.

As rich and powerful as the band’s accompaniment was, the emotional core of the night came when Tori and her keyboards played alone for a few songs in the middle of the show. I almost cried during the poignant “China,” which hit me harder than ever in the wake of the last few months. I pulled myself together for "Merman," But then, when the opening chords of “Northern Lad” sounded, I knew I was doomed. It’s hard to choose a favorite song from such a deep and affecting catalogue, but “Northern Lad” is a real contender for my heart. And it was the one I had been most consciously hoping to hear live, and yes, I was going to cry. The emotion of that chorus, those high notes, was just chill-inducing.

I had gotten so wrapped up in "Northern Lad" I didn't even realize that the band had returned. I was kind of let down by the hit "A Sorta Fairytale," the only song she played from Scarlet's Walk, which seemed almost mumbled after the outpouring of the previous song. the only song from . The new song "Code Red" came to life on the stage, taking on a heavy, almost violent quality entirely absent in the recording, and capped off the second act with a bang.

Of course, there was an encore. There were two. I was so excited when the low rumble of Precious Things began. The greatest angry Tori song ever, played live...it was awesome. Then came the bright "Parasol." The final encore was the pair of classics "God" and "Hey Jupiter." We had been waiting to hear the former all night, jumping at false alarms, and the latter was absolutely heartbreaking.

I felt like I had been completely filled by fifteen years of Tori's music comprising eight years of my life as a fan. Only as we boarded the train did I begin to think of the dozens of other songs I did not get to hear. Wouldn't it have been great to hear "Winter" or "Happy Phantom?" At least one more song from Scarlet's Walk or Choirgirl? And then I started thinking that my Tori concert would not be my last.