Many thanks to Lucy for sending me this press review.
Amos, fans journey to 'musical Middle Earth' at Weidner
By Kendra Meinert,
For two hours on Wednesday night, there was no war -- at least not in the mystical kingdom of a flame-haired fairy draped in purple, her adoring subjects seemingly hanging on her every word and breath.
As the title of her opening song suggested, Tori Amos' concert at the Weidner Center felt like "A Sorta Fairytale." The singer/pianist and her legion of frighteningly devout Toriphiles -- mere mortals but somehow "fans" would be an insult -- were whisked away on a journey to a kind of musical Middle Earth, where the mood, the melodies and the miss behind "Scarlet's Walk" were all that mattered.
Amos, who spoke at length about the state of America during an interview with the Press-Gazette earlier this month, never mentioned the war during her concert in front of 1,496. She spoke only once to her audience, to thank the tribe of Toriphiles who had been following her around the country and had come to the end of their run.
She opened her set by singing the 37-word "Wampum Prayer" a cappella from behind a curtain made to ignite with a flurry of pink and orange lights. She emerged in a wild-patterned purple wrap dress, jean capris and heels.
She waved like a little girl with both hands, gracefully bowed to the standing masses, took a seat at her mighty Bosendorfer piano and let the hypnotic, haunting and breathy vocals begin.
Backed by Jon Evans on bass and Matt Chamberlain on drums, the sound was big enough to submerge the entire hall in it, from the occasional red-haired look-alike in the front rows to the empty seats in the balcony. Amos mined songs from early albums like "Boys For Pele" and "Little Earthquakes" as well as her current "Scarlet's Walk."
She dismissed her band mid-set for a "Roadside Cafe" segment that included "Upside Down" as well as a beautiful and melancholy "Winter." She rocked on "Cornflake Girl," "Strange Little Girl" and "London Girls" for the first of two encores.
While the power of Amos' presence had bodies transfixed all night (it felt at times like sitting in a theater of mannequins), a more nimble and shaggy-haired Rhett Miller of Old 97's needed only an acoustic guitar and songs like "Four-Eyed Girl" to prove he was the perfect welcoming jester for the flame-haired fairy's kingdom.