Last Night: Tori Amos at The Paramount

Photos by Marcella D. Volpintesta. Click here for a slideshow.

Tori Amos
December 5, 2007
Paramount Theatre
Better Than: Suckling a baby pig (see below)

“You're gonna walk out suckling a baby pig,”� warned SW contributing photographer Laura Musselman, once a diehard fan of Tori Amos a decade ago, hours before I was to attend her concert. Obviously, I wasn’t sure about what I was getting myself into, seeing that the only songs I knew of Tori's were “Corn Flake Girl”� and “Professional Widow.”� And that was only because I had a couple female friends in high school who were obsessed with the pianist/singer/songwriter. But coddling the little pink belly of a baby pig? What?! That image was all I had riding on the night as I walked toward Paramount, whose sidewalk was flocked with elder couples, lesbians, dapper gay men, and other folks with various shades of black hair.

Tori’s backing band, which included two Seattlites, drummer Matt Chamberlin and guitarist Dan Phelps, as well as a bassist, took their positions, before the lady of the night appeared from beneath the drapes in a shiny silver lame dress and leggings. The band broke into the rock-hard “Cruel,”� then played a very awkward version of Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold.”� (Barr, you would’ve puked!). The first half of the night was intensely dramatic - from Tori in a push up position on the floor, slithering slowly toward the piano bench and finally stretching to reach her keys on “Smokey Joe,”� to the flipping the bird toward the crowd at the end of “The Waitress.”� She ever went through a costume change or two. She ran through various points in her career, including “Big Wheel”� off her latest, American Doll Posse, “Sugar,”� a song I found myself liking more and more as it played on, “Corn Flake Girl,”� and “Liquid Diamonds.”�

Tori embraced all that her fans want to see and hear - sexual liberation, vulnerability, persuasion, and acute technique. Following “Liquid Diamonds,”� Tori’s ear monitor cut out, when a stagehand appeared from the wing, knelt behind her, and fidgeted with her wardrobe so he could get her set up with a new battery pack. During this time, Tori, the consummate professional that she is, began improvising a song on the piano, singing “Change my pack, I’m coming back, to be a boy, to have one of those confusing toys,”� which sent the crowd cheering. Uh, was she talking about a dildo?!

Tori then played two songs solo on the piano — first “Seaside,”� then a faithful, yet completely original rendition of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit,”� much to the delight of the captive Seattle audience. Then, with the band back on stage with her, she worked in “Digital Ghost,”� “Code Red”�, and Neil Diamond’s “I’m a Believer,”� which I heard emitting from the speakers in the spacious bathroom. Frankly, it made great peeing music, and as a pretty big Neil Diamond fan, I knew it was my cue to leave. Yet through it all, never once did I think of suckling a baby pig. But in retrospect, the whole night was kind of nurturing.

Personal Bias: Bad high school memories of really strange people I considered friends.
Random Detail: The biggest fan of the night that seemed to have the overall best time wasn’t a lesbian or gay. It was the sweet, bearded fellow with Downs Syndrome across the aisle from me, who had a big old smile, and clapped and cheered the entire night. I’d love to take him out to see more shows.

Topics: The Morning After

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