Tori Amos

LONDON – She's laughing, Myra Ellen Amos, known professionally as Tori. She settles onto her stool, one of her trademark mischievous smirks on her face, as the encore starts to take shape: "Big Wheel"! She really is incorrigible... just picking at random from albums and B-sides of her pre-2002 catalogue, she could pull out a memorable encore, and instead it's the turn of that improbable kitsch country-pop number, a fitting single from an album ("American Doll Posse" from 2007) that many, including this writer, still probably haven't forgiven her for. She knows it, she must know it. That grin says it all, as she bounces along the keys with that saloon-bar rhythm. Could she be having a laugh at our expense, at those of us who fancy ourselves critics?

Let's take a step back to better understand, to when the stage lights were still off. There hasn't been this kind of buzz around the American pianist in quite some time. First a remastered edition for the tenth anniversary of "Unrepentant Geraldines", which we'd confidently call her most convincing work in at least 20 years. The rediscovery of the underrated "Strange Little Girls". A collection of children's songs pulled seemingly out of nowhere, "The Music Of Tori And The Muses". Finally, the announcement of "In Times Of Dragons", out May 1st, with a tour set to hit as many as 17 countries between April and May, the biggest in the last 10 years.

Alongside this renewed verve, there's also a fairly significant shake-up on the live front: besides trusty Jon Evans on bass ("we've been playing together forever," the redhead will point out during the evening) and Earl Harvin on drums, a female backing choir appears for the first time: Liv Gibson, Deni Hlavlinka and Hadley Kennary. It's a significant decision, a notable act of humility from someone who has always been front and center on stage, proud of her incredible mezzo-soprano pipes. In interviews, it's described as a choice necessary to match the theatrical and narrative scope of the new album. However, it also involves more pragmatic considerations, as the singer-songwriter herself has admitted with disarming honesty regarding the recent narrowing of her vocal range.

So what better occasion to test the effectiveness of this innovative ensemble than her tenth appearance at the temple of English music, London's Royal Albert Hall? As we wander through the galleries of the historic Albion landmark, on a bright spring day, the question is only fair: what will tonight's setlist have in store for us? Because if there's one thing certain with Tori Amos, it's unpredictability. Thanks to the usual, ever-impressive cauldron of songs brought out on tour (as many as 47 distinct tracks rotated across the various setlists to date, for the record), making predictions is impossible.

Half an hour after the opening set from England's Isaac Levi, effective with his elegant acoustic-guitar-and-cello pop-rock, the huge winged circle looming over the stage lights up, as Evans and Harvin take their places. As if the Pink Floyd-esque vibes weren't enough, the three backing singers follow close behind, dressed in white. Over a hypnotic rhythmic loop, they intone a mantra that sounds familiar: "I gotta get this right".

And then she arrives. Half the hall rises to its feet, greeting the woman who, for them, will always be the "goddess of rock" of the '90s. She taps her hand on her chest, moved. Her bond with the audience goes beyond any rhetoric: decades of genuine confessionals during the "Meet & Greet" sessions before shows, even in the years at the peak of her success, regardless of security and the schedules imposed by the touring machine. We find it all summed up right there, in the hands brushing against those in the front rows. She smiles, ready to unwrap the perfect gift for her aficionados: a setlist for true devotees, packed with the usual carefully chosen gems, with all due respect to casual onlookers.

So we start with "Fire To Your Plain", definitely not the hit you'd expect. Completely transformed, it sheds the electro-pop of "Abnormally Attracted to Sin" in favor of a sinuous new guise. The first few minutes betray a bit of technical uncertainty: the mix isn't quite dialed in yet, the choir sits too far forward, and Tori's voice and piano get a little smothered. The same happens on "Shush", a preview of the new record, which nevertheless starts pulling a dramatic piano figure out of the wall of sound.

Finally things settle into place. The sound engineers find the sweet spot and tame the powerful voices of the "Angel Witches", as Tori fondly dubbed them during her opening remarks.

With the sound dialed in and her voice warmed up, the first bombshell arrives: "Ieee". And this is where we're watching closely: will the "angels" really prove to be an added value, or will they turn out to be more "witches", a double-edged sword? The answer, for the most part at least, is reassuring. When the trio takes on the job of extending the singer-songwriter's current range, without overpowering her but blending with her instead, the result is surprising. Tori's timbre is very different from what we heard too many years ago, in that successful Rome show back in 2014. Now it's lower, deeper, "dirtier" and richer in nuance. Thanks to this new setup, "Ieee" slithers along, sly and reptilian, setting off the angelic trio during its sudden peaks, which no longer feel jarring.

The choice pays off in other ways too, lending a darker hue to Amos's music. These shadowy suggestions naturally suit the settings of “From The Choirgirl Hotel”, let alone the redhead's most crepuscular work, “Boys For Pele”. Sure enough, the quintessential nocturnal ballad arrives right on cue: “Little Amsterdam”, instantly registering as one of the peaks of the show. Pushing the rhythm duo of Evans/Harvin into the background, the stage narrows its focus onto the rocking motion of her inseparable Bosendorfer. The “angels” create an elegant counterpoint, whispering the backing vocal “Back to the range”. The crowd is enchanted by the song's sensual atmosphere, jolting in their seats at the musician's proverbial sudden, sharp strikes on the prized piano. Needless to say, the crowd erupts with enthusiasm at every slam of the keys.

This perfect trio is closed out by the gem “Ruby Through The Looking Glass”, one of the many “hidden treasures” from the “Scarlet's Walk” era, pampering the audience with delicate, dreamy harmonies.

Not everything, however, works equally well. “Bliss” reminds us that a choir is a great opportunity, but one to be used sparingly. Here, the vocal lines of the “witches” are unified and completely overlaid onto Tori's own. The result, especially in the chorus, is to weigh down the melody, making it clumsy and overblown. The effect is devastating on a song that should rely on a lean, dynamic momentum, blunting all of its otherwise proverbial live impact. We notice this same effect in parts of one of her absolute masterpieces, “Pandora's Aquarium”. While it generally benefits from the trio's contribution, especially in the song's rises and falls, we struggle to appreciate the choice of having them mirror every single line of the song as well. With a bit more restraint, the outcome would have been decidedly better. Still, these are blemishes we can look past, especially considering how “Black-Dove” literally takes flight, not coincidentally when the spotlight returns solely to Tori's voice, with the trio stepping in only to amplify the song's explosions.

As the show approaches the two-hour mark, Tori plays the (small) earthquake card: a one-two punch thrown straight at our faces, worthy of a seasoned boxer sensing the knockout, pulled from her debut ‘Little Earthquakes’. “Crucify” stretches out and transforms. It starts as a ballad with a soul flavour, built on a delightful dialogue between the American singer and the “angels”, underpinned by the languid groove laid down by the rhythm duo. The tension stays alive throughout the performance right up to the final surge, warm and visceral, gripping us by the throat for all of its 13 long minutes. Tori digs deep into the keys as her voice hardens on the iconic “Never going back again to crucify myself”. Without pause, the unmistakable panting of “Precious Things” kicks in. The stage fires off nervous flashes onto the crowd, who roar with excitement at the hammering of the famous piano riff, while Harvin pounds hard on the drums. Tori pushes her vocal cords to the limit and lets out a furious “giiiirrrls”, backed with precision by her formidable partners. She leaves the stage amid the crowd's delirium. The most die-hard fans surge en masse toward the front of the stage, as has been ritual since the dawn of Amos fandom. But it's only a pause before the final party.

And so here we are again, at her moment of triumph. How can we blame her, then, if after such a victory she wants to have a laugh at our expense and enjoy herself a little? So let it be “Big Wheel”, critics be damned. We open the encores with this one. Everyone jumps around happily, clapping along. It's a moment of release and boisterous celebration that flows naturally into the classic of classics, after so much digging through the lesser-known corners of her catalogue: “Cornflake Girl”! It's sung in unison by a room that, for a moment, sheds all its restraint. If it could, even the huge organ behind the stage would join in on the final chorus, “Rabbit, where'd you put the keys girl?”.

She's right. It's the perfect ending. It could only end this way, in triumph, as a reward for (finally?) accepting the passing years. Her voice changes, her choices will always divide opinion. But Tori Amos remains Tori Amos: charismatic, unpredictable and imperfect.

Happy tenth birthday to the RAH, Tori.

(Photo contributions courtesy of Michael Atlan)

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