A review of Tori's April 11, 2005 concert in Philadelphia, PA appeared in the April 13, 2005 edition of The Philadelphia Inquirer.
You can read this review online at philly.com or below. All the reviews for this Philadelphia show can be found here.
Tori Amos, too good yet true
The pop singer played it perfectly safe for her reverential fans.
By Amy Phillips
Tori Amos' performance at Verizon Hall at the Kimmel Center Monday night was a study in perfection.
The acoustics of the Philadelphia Orchestra's home base allowed the flame-haired piano thrush's undulating melodies to float heavenward unobstructed, and her warm, moist vocals to sound like sweet nothings being whispered in each individual audience member's ears.
The sold-out crowd responded with reverential silence as she played, and rapturous applause between songs. Members of Amos' devoted cult of fans frantically text-messaged each other the set list on their cell phones, and a throng of Tori-philes even rushed the stage at the beginning of her encore - perhaps the first time the Kimmel Center's hallowed walls had witnessed such behavior.
Perfection, however, can have its downside. Amos' hour-and-a-half set was so exquisitely wrought that as the night wore on, it started to feel like a glass-encased museum piece rather than a live pop concert.
Although she switched between a Bsendorfer grand piano and three different organs - sometimes banging away at two instruments at once - the songs tended to melt together, anonymously.
Her renditions of tracks from her latest album, The Beekeeper, such as "Mother Revolution," "The Power of Orange Knickers" and "Toast," as well as old favorites such as "Yes, Anastasia" and "Winter," were slower and more sensuous than the original versions, with Amos lingering over vowel sounds and frequently adding arpeggiated fills. Even a cover of Bruce Springsteen's "Streets of Philadelphia," which Amos said she had never attempted before, seamlessly blended in with the sonic wallpaper.
Watching Tori Amos in action is truly a marvel. She can unite the spiritual and sexual worlds with just a swivel of her hips as she straddles the piano bench, or attack her instrument with the athleticism of a prizefighter. But when she plays it safe, she risks disappearing in her own flawlessness.