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It’s not often that one gets to see actual landmark figures in the flesh, cultural touchstones performing songs that kept you company during the quiet, formative moments of youth. The time and place these indelible marks are carved always seem to retreat in the warm vague recesses of memory, so to be fully aware of an artist actually whittling away at your subconscious as they play right in front of you is a rare treat. Tori Amos sat with us recently in an evening of intense personal confession, accompanied by Ray Mann of the Ray Mann Three.

Ray Mann was the Yin to Tori’s Yang. Bereft of the Three, his stripped back set felt like he had personally invited us there himself to enjoy his barefooted ramblings. The stage got smaller and you could almost taste the green tea you should be drinking. His disarming material pooled and eddied in the spaces between everyone and small colourful flourishes kept it all buoyant. Without the aggressive masculinity of a rhythm section (the blood and guts of soul) his voice was allowed to establish its own place rather than force its way to the foreground. It was fine and dexterous and was interlaced with his flirtatious guitar work beautifully. It was a blithe conversation between performer and audience that was perhaps in hindsight more of a necessary counterpoint to Tori’s sombre performance than it may have originally looked on paper.

The iconic, imperious and slightly terrifying Tori Amos has been making fearless post feminist musical statements for over fifteen years. Her extraordinary body of work has garnered enormous praise while defying traditional avenues of criticism altogether by becoming so important to so many people that it’s gained a sort of invincibility. At this stage in her career there are only varying levels of greatness in her music. That being said, an entirely solo performance featuring Amos focusing her considerable energy through a single Bösendorfer grand, an organ and a synth was not easy for the uninitiated like me.

Tori strode out into the spotlight clad in metallic leggings like a suit of armour, draped in an emerald green dress with her pale face framed by her luminous, burning red hair. Her character is an astonishing mess of Joan of Arc, Nina Simone and Minnie Ripperton – an extraordinary presence. She opened up with Lady in Blue from her latest record Abnormally Attracted To Sin, a typically Baroque piece of chamber pop. The piano was faultless, to be expected form a former child prodigy, and her voice, whilst being perhaps a fraction too loud, was polished. An artist with such a deep body of work isn’t necessarily bound to flog current singles on tour simply for commercial reasons, and in this case Amos reached all the way back to her breakout Little Earthquakes record. Baker Baker was also played, and Jackie’s Strength represented Choirgirl Hotel.

The Lighting and set design was simple, elegant and effective. Floor to ceiling drapes hung behind the stage, underneath which some soft lighting was projected which could alter its colour. This gave the whole wall behind her a soft shimmering effect which balanced out the bold dramatic style of the music. Behind this was an entire wall of LED beads that changed colour as well, giving the impression of Amos serenading us in front a curtain of stars. Very beautiful. The sound mix was good, although as previously mentioned perhaps the vox could be turned down half a notch. The Canberra Theatre was a great venue as the acoustics were stellar, especially for such a naked set of songs.

The set itself was heavy. Musicians play with light and shade within a set to maximise emotional impact, and by perhaps slotting in a solo rendition of a typically boisterous song can adjust the focus and how the audience invests in it. Amos’ music is a substantially pithy slice of pop culture when played as intended, but an entire evening of these songs stripped down to its DNA and reconfiguring and focusing the energy through a lonely tigress on a piano was tough going. It all seemed super serious, and EVERYTHING seemed to matter. I was exhausted by the end, but in the best possible way.

It was disappointing that Canberra couldn’t seem to muster a large enough crowd to fill the theatre. Blame it on promotion or what you will, it’s a sad testament that such an important, fascinating figure couldn’t move the masses into fighting for seats. Their loss, our gain. It was such a privilege to experience her fiery brand of music, one that I’m sure will stay with us for a long time.

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