Tori Amos

It's a quite interesting phase that Tori Amos is going through: after the dreadful creative crisis she'd been mired in for some time – some trace its beginning to 1999, others to 2005, it hardly matters – her last two studio records have gradually restored dignity to one of the historic talents of female singer-songwriting, particularly the pleasant surprise of "Unrepentant Geraldines". What remained to be seen was whether some of the most convincing aspects of that last full-length – the regained sobriety and identity, and a voice once again expressive and authoritative – would also be confirmed live. Well, if that last good studio outing still called for caution before invoking any talk of rebirth, the Rome show left many in attendance, probably even the more wary or skeptical among them, with the feeling that that Tori Amos could truly be back for good.

Let's take it in order: what should one expect as the show begins in the now-familiar Sala Santa Cecilia, at Rome's Auditorium Parco della Musica? In keeping with the album's return to the "girl with the piano," no other musician besides the red-haired composer is on stage: no Matt Chamberlain on drums, no bass, no guitar, not even the excellent string quartet that accompanied the enjoyable tour for "Night of Hunters". Just the singer-songwriter and her trusty Bösendorfer. The first predictable consequence for those familiar with her is the complete unpredictability of the setlist, confirmed by previous dates where only a couple of songs appeared with any regularity (around seventy distinct songs performed across just the last five dates). It's precisely one of these that breaks the ice to open the evening: "Parasol" proves far more energetic and alive than its counterpart that once opened the ill-fated "Beekeper". Later on, "Ophelia" fares no less well, once taken out of the context of the forgettable "Abnormally Attracted To Sin".

What comes as a pleasant surprise is the artist's excellent form. "Icicle," a highlight that arrives right after the first round of greetings, shows off a voice as confident and powerful as the North Carolina artist hasn't displayed in some time, especially recalling the many fragile, shaky performances of the not-too-distant 2007-2010 period. But beyond her revitalized vocal cords, it's the whole package that convinces: flashes resurface of a more full-blooded Tori Amos, with that proverbial, carnal relationship with her piano. The final crescendo of "Icicle" is unforgettable: the American ratchets up the tension more and more, almost mimicking the clandestine erotic act the lyrics allude to. When it becomes unbearable in the bridge's crescendo, a violent slam on the piano makes everyone in the room jump, underscoring that final furious "I didn't go!"

Curious, however, is the choice to give little space to the latest album, despite its strong sales and critical success. A shame, considering how the pathos of "Invisible Boy" is amplified by a darker, deeper live arrangement. On that note, one of the two covers offered could perhaps have been dropped: "The Rose" by Bette Midler and "Boys In The Tree" by Carly Simon.

Other contradictions leave one puzzled. After showing off her renowned talent for upending her own songs and giving them new life live – witness a sly, feline "Blood Roses," and a sour, slithering "Iieee" – it's inconceivable to offer "Cornflake Girl" with an intrusive backing track, choir included. If one absolutely must find a reason for this kitschy choice, it could at best have worked as a final encore, as a sort of jokey farewell (a bit like the rowdy "Big Wheel" was back in the 2011 date), but the only thing it achieves is an inappropriate thud in an otherwise perfect atmosphere, one that was, for that matter, respected by a polite, attentive audience. But these are, all things considered, negligible blemishes within almost two hours of a show that otherwise keeps sailing at high emotional altitudes.

Never before has the setting played so much in the show's favor: it's a known fact that Americans have a soft spot for Rome, but when the American in question is known for her troubled relationship with religion, contact with the Holy City ends up triggering a "small earthquake" in the setlist. That said, besides the already mentioned "Icicle," "Past The Mission" and (especially) "Father Lucifer" are greeted with a roar, while "Precious Things" sets the crowd ablaze with the ritual "girrrrrll" rasped in the bridge, as unpleasant and abrasive as ever. But it's with "Crucify," the redhead's personal invective against the oppressions of youth, that the concert hits its peak: a powerful voice and tension kept tightly in check throughout the performance, recalling the good old days, exploding in the final chorus: "Never going back again to crucify myself… you Rome!" How could she resist that quip?

In closing, a Tori Amos concert the way it used to be is something worth seeing, just to understand what kind of experience it is. Fortunately, the Rome show showed us that it's still possible.

Photo courtesy of Lisa Ridlon

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