Okay, so I may have gone a little crazy. I may have found myself in four different states in as many days. Both my body and wallet definitely still hurt from the excursion. You know what, though? I’m an unabashed fangirl, and this happens every time Tori Amos goes on tour. It’s like clockwork. Every two years or so, the world loses me to the redheaded siren with the Bosendorfer. It could be worse, I guess. I could be a Daughtry fan.
I left work early the day of the local show at Radio City Music Hall, like my first day of “Tori Tour” was some special holiday. As I sat in the Russian Vodka Room during Attitude Adjustment Hour considering the spiciness of my Bloody Mary, I was surprised at just how excited I’d become. In the past, a live Tori show was the pinnacle of all musical experiences for me, but when the new album (Abnormally Attracted to Sin) came out and I hated it, I figured the shows I attended would be a sort of swan song; a goodbye to my angsty, tear-filled days worshiping at the altar of the faerie goddess or whatever. Unlike my other intensely devoted fan friends, I’d come to realize that Tori is not infallible, and it was a shock to my system. Either way, four shows later, I’m feeling better about the whole thing and I’ve called the divorce off. I still can’t find my faerie wings, though.
The setlist for each show is written day-of and could be based on local themes, current events, or requests from fans during pre-show meet and greets, but does have a structural base. She opens with “Give” from Abnormally Attracted to Sin. The third song is the old standard, “Cornflake Girl.” Somewhere in the middle of the set is a two-song solo mini-set, dubbed “Lizard Lounge.” After that, the band (Jon Evans on bass/guitars and Matt Chamberlain on drums) returns for a few more songs, and they close out the set with another new/old pairing: “Precious Things” and “Strong Black Vine.” This tour sees one encore, with two to three songs, typically involving “Big Wheel” and “Raspberry Swirl.”
Given that, the Radio City show was a slow start to things, as the fleshy bits of the set left something to be desired. There were bright spots, though, and they were almost blinding in their brilliance. There was “Space Dog,” a track which finds itself in my all-time top five, and which I only saw live for the first time during the 2007 tour. There was “Jamaica Inn,” a song I’ve never loved, but the live version of which is sad and sweet and perfect. Then there was “Lizard Lounge”, and Tori blew some minds with her cover of Nirvana‘s “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” which I’ve heard plenty of bootleg versions of, but had never heard with mine own ears. And then there was “Winter,” and I officially lost my shit, which became something of a trend. Mostly, the show seemed full of safe bets.
That’s okay, though, because risks are the polar opposites of safe bets, and the show the next night at Count Basie Theatre in Red Bank, New Jersey was chock full of the most amazing musical risks I’ve ever been privy to–well, for Tori. I’ve seen her live 16 times now, and this show was, far and wide, the best.
But briefly, let me back up to that afternoon when I stood in line for the meet and greet with a bunch of other fanatics of varying degrees. The compulsion to have a relationship with your idol is an interesting one, and this becomes apparent with “Toriphiles.” I know the catalog, own plenty of bootlegs, and can discern differences in edits of live versions of songs from tour to tour, but sometimes fandom gets out of hand, and I have to say it: I don’t like other Tori fans. This could be a self-loathing thing, but probably not. The superfans are obnoxious, socially awkward, pushy, and a lot of them have a false sense of entitlement.
For example, I’d like to briefly consider the very difficult life of Superfan X. Before I do that, though, I’d like to note that I’m not being hyperbolic. I could rattle off a list of at least ten people I’ve met who do this every time Tori tours. Anyway, Superfan X finds him/herself voluntarily jobless for three months every two years and has seen Tori 200 times in x number of states and countries. Superfan X doesn’t feel this is the slightest bit excessive. Good for them. Here’s where other people see a problem: Superfan X only ever buys tickets day of, if at all, and can be seen chasing down the tour manager before every show, looking for ticket upgrades. Somehow, there’s the expectation that Tori and her people are indebted and must give front row seats to the biggest, best, most visible fans. Interesting logic. Thing is, I always buy my tickets in advance and I’d like to check out a show from the front row sometime, too. And I’d like to do it without making a total ass of myself in the process.
These people give a bad face to fans and to what passion and joy there is to be found in loving music that grows with you over time. Regardless, friend Mitch wanted to meet the redhead, so we forged on and persisted in the heat with the others. I didn’t mind having the chance to say hello and request that she play my favorite song in the entire world, either.
So, let’s fast forward past the meet and greet, the vodka, the food, the Nag Champa incense I bought for my girlfriend (which smells of hippies and dirt) in some silly pagan shop, and the quaint small-town feel of Red Bank. Count Basie Theatre? It’s perfect. It’s small and intimate and the sound is wonderful. The first two-thirds of the set were intense, but I had no trouble rolling with the punches for awhile. There was “Beauty of Speed,” “Horses,” and “Siren,” a selection of songs which spans her entire discography. And every set is like this. The focus is sprawling and doesn’t just lie with the newest work; it’s favored only slightly, which I can get down with.
Here’s the sucker punch: “Tear in Your Hand,” the song I requested. I’d watched her write it on a notepad with a silver Sharpie. There are so many requests per day that, when you actually hear yours, it can be overwhelming, especially if you have an emotional attachment to the song. This is where the tears started to flow in these surprising, giant sobs. And they didn’t stop, because then she played “Doughnut Song,” “Taxi Ride” and Carly Simon’s “Boys in the Trees” solo, and then “Josephine.” Everything else fell by the wayside after that, which gave me a chance to breathe.
On the last train home, I encountered a stranger who’d been at the show. We got to talking, and she asked if I’d be going to Boston to see the last show of the tour. I shook my head no. I didn’t have a ticket, I had to go to work, and my girlfriend’s patience was waning. Stranger said, “Well, I have an extra ticket and it’s yours if you want it.” I gave no definitive answer, and soon after she’d given me her information, she got off the train (at the wrong stop). I got lost in my own thoughts about the possibility of seeing the Boston show, which is, apparently, always awesome. Then I found myself somewhere in the Bronx at 3AM, and it took another hour to set that mistake right. Oops.
To Be Continued…
Photos by Dese’Rae Stage.
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