[With apologies to those who object to mixed tenses. It just happened that way.]
She got a standing ovation from a large chunk of the audience just for walking out on stage. It was like there was a huge wave of appreciation to say “you’re finally HERE!”.
A couple of quick bows, hands clasped, and then she sat down at the piano.
A single shaft of light beamed down from directly above her, as she started to play a greatly lengthened introduction to
Original Sinsuality. The first part of the introduction was entirely new, and the latter part was recognizable but still longer than the studio version.
As she started to sing, a tiny purple galaxy started to spin and grow on the hexagonal screen above the right hand side of the stage. There were times when the use of the screen didn’t impress me all that much, but there were other times, like this, where it seemed absolutely brilliant.
The lighting on the other hand was pretty darn good throughout, but the beam of light for this song was still a high point.
She sang the line “Yalbadoath Saklas I’m calling you” twice. There were lots of little variations like that throughout the songs, some of which I can distinctly remember but many of which I can’t. That was the first one though. I wonder whether she actually plans them out, or whether some of them simply happen on the spur of the moment because she feels it. Performing solo would certainly give her the freedom to do so.
She finished, the crowd starts cheering again, then they ROAR as she starts playing
Yes, Anastasia.
I could hardly believe the intensity with which she attacked the piano during the introduction. Pounding bass notes, hunched almost into a ball, hair flying over her face. As a piano player myself, I’m astonished at how she throws herself at the instrument. No wonder they couldn’t cope with her at the Peabody Conservatory.
I was quite surprised that she started the song from the main theme (“thought I’d been through this in 1919”), skipping the 5 minutes of preparation. Presumably if I had paid attention to the reviews from the American tour I’d have known that she was doing this. Still, even in truncated form it was glorious. After a couple of extra cycles of the ‘chorus’ she finally did the long and high “we’ll see” that’s the climax of the whole song.
By this stage I’m well and truly feeling immersed in my first Tori concert.
Now it’s time for a chat with us. First thing she says is how it feels like she’s playing in someone’s living room, because we’re so warm and cosy. Huge roar.
This chat is really the only time the whole night that the crowd is noisier than they need to be. Some guy yells “we love you Tori” (or was it “I”? I think he included all of us) and she managed to practically run on her last sentence to respond “and I love you too”. More cheering, followed by another guy from the same part of the audience shouting “You’re my God”. She had an expression on her face that said okay, maybe now you’ve gone a bit
too far.
She continues on with the story she had started, about going to “the zoo” (I presume she meant Taronga) and being told by this woman (a guide?) that here in Australia we have the cutest butt in the world. She explains – to us and the woman – that she’s married and shouldn’t be thinking about or looking at such things. Eventually she’s persuaded to come over with her eyes closed, and there, “behind glass, with his three wives and 17,000 ape children” is a gorilla with a seriously cute butt.
The punch line is obvious but it’s still greeted with plenty of laughter.
She turns around to the Hammond organ on her left and starts playing
Blood Roses. The lights are a mixture of strong reds and blues, and something that looks rather like blood cells swims across the hexagonal screen. The organ, played with lots of vibrato, makes a good substitute for the harpsichord, somehow having the same kind of old, foreign sound to it. It’s the kind of sound you’d get from a small pipe organ in the attic of a haunted house.
She doesn’t change key for “God knows I’ve thrown away those graces”, which to my mind helped prove how brilliantly jarring the key change was in the studio version. It still sounds good though. She switches to piano for “The Belle of New Orleans”, who gets to go around twice. Then back to the organ. In this last stretch, her intensity rises. We get at
least twice as many cries of “c’mon” as on the album. I think to myself, this is the same woman who some people claim has lost her edge, with the smooth sound of her last album. Who are they kidding?
Straight into
Take to the Sky on the piano, which gets very quickly recognised. Each verse is accompanied by a big slap of the right hand on the side of the piano. About half the audience is clapping along as she slaps.
Many of the songs have pauses in the rhythm. Sometimes it’s for effect, but often I think it’s just because it makes singing the darn thing a lot easier (there aren’t opportunities for layering vocals when you’re all alone on stage). In
Take to the Sky she keeps the rhythm going the whole time except for just once, one of the times she reaches the line “and my priest says…”. Big pause, big look in our direction. There are a lot of coy looks and sexy expressions during the song. At one point she uses her free hand to push her hair back in a thoroughly suggestive manner.
I’m quite sure I have a big smile on my face by now if I didn’t already.
Cloud on my Tongue gets another large and instant cheer as she starts a long and convoluted introduction. It’s beautiful. Each of the instrumental bits of the song gets expanded as well, and they’re all riveting.
However this was the first time during the concert that I got a bit distracted. There’s something about
Cloud on my Tongue live that doesn’t sit quite right with me. Partly I think it’s that I’m too familiar with it already – it’s on the Venus live disc, it’s on the DVD as well. Partly it’s that I think the studio version is so goddamn brilliant, structurally speaking, that any tampering with the proportions seems like a backwards step. I find myself checking off each section in the structure without really listening that closely.
But I’m still enjoying it. There’s nothing about tonight that I don’t enjoy. It’s just that I’m sitting there noting my enjoyment instead of being completely carried away.
For the next song she starts playing the organ and piano together (I’m
sure she did it during the introduction, not just later on). The stage is bathed in golden light (and please don’t tell me I got that wrong either).
I melt in my chair at the absolutely gorgeous sound that’s filling the room. I have no idea what song it is, but the blend of the two instruments is absolutely
perfect.
Eventually it proves to be
Jamaica Inn. I didn’t recognize it because the introduction has a completely different chord sequence that doesn’t appear in the studio version. A couple of hours later, the thing I most wanted to remember was the live introduction to
Jamaica Inn and I was devastated that I couldn’t get it to push past my memory of the studio version. Somewhere in the night, though, it came to me and the next morning it was there when I woke up.
She spends the song switching between instruments. I spend the song in a kind of rapture. While she’s singing she generally sticks to one instrument – verses on the organ, choruses on the piano. In the instrumental parts she plays both. It’s heavenly.
The highlight of the concert so far for me, and the 2nd most essential mp3. (Later on I looked on hereinmyhead.com and was amazed there isn’t a version there. What are people thinking, not sharing this as a highlight of the live show? Is it only me and Helen that think it’s fabulous?!)
There’s an opportunity to give the longer applause the song so richly deserves, because Tori gets up and moves to the other keyboard sitting by itself on her right/our left. From here she’s facing the audience directly, as she begins playing
Cool on Your Island.
It gets the smallest cheer of the night, most likely because even in a fairly devoted crowd there’s quite a few people who don’t know the song at all. I hope they enjoyed it as much as I did. The performance is beautifully calm and as serene as you could wish for. She sits bathed in pure white light, while coloured lights swim across the rest of the stage and into the audience. For the second song in a row, time almost stops.
Before the concert I had warned my companions that I might spend most of the time staring at the floor, and that this would probably mean I was having a good time. It’s a strange thing to do, but I find that when I’m listening to music intensely I often can’t stand to look, in case I see something distracting.
I don’t think I stared at the floor once during the whole concert. I stared alright, but it was straight at her. I’m staring during
Cool on Your Island, with a warm smile in my heart.
It’s time for another chat, which means it’s time for “Tori’s Piano Bar”.
As she adjusts a piece of paper she tells us she got this list of song requests from people in Australia, “and it didn’t suck”. Some cheering. She then emphasises that she’s not saying that just to be nice, some of the lists she received in America weren’t up to scratch and she made her own selections, but tonight she’s going to do two songs that were both on the list. Preparing for the first song, she says “I’ve never done this before, so it might suck”, but she found the proposition irresistible. As she says “irresistible” she looks the cat who just got the cream.
She starts a strongly rhythmic bass line. So far this first selection sounds like a good one. Then she sings the first line: “
She was a fast machine…”
There’s very strong cheering, clapping,
laughing even, but only from parts of the audience. It’s clear that some people know what this and are extremely happy about it. Me, I have no idea. All I know is that it sounds darn good.
The song continues and I still am thinking, “what the heck is this? When am I going to know?”. Then she finally reaches the chorus of
You Shook Me All Night Long and comprehension dawns on me and at least a thousand other people. All of us (yes, me included) go nuts.
She is covering AC/DC of all things!!I’m not really one for much clapping or making noise, so the fact that I made even a moderate “woohoo” at this point and laughed is significant. It’s the sheer audacity of the song choice that inspires me, along with the fact that she’s doing it so well. Heavy rock on solo piano, and it works! And it’s obvious she is really enjoying it as well. The most essential mp3 of the night, without question.
Having just brought the house down, she launches into Madonna’s
Like A Prayer. It’s nice enough, but relatively disappointing. Madonna has some really great songs in her body of work, but this isn’t really one of them. It’s a song fragment expanded into something bigger that really relies on production to make it work. On solo piano, it holds the interest for a minute or two but not much more.
Returning to her own material, she starts playing
Barons of Suburbia with what seems to be considerably more enthusiasm. Best of all she’s kept up the speed of the studio version. While there are pauses, the overall feel is pretty rhythmic, to the extent that I’m tapping my foot in the later parts of the song and thoroughly enjoying myself once again.
She starts the song on piano and moves to organ for the second verse, then back again. As she gets to the last section, singing about potions and poisons, a golden rectangular shape slowly emerges on the screen, swirling and growing, swallowing the blue background it emerged from. It perfectly matches the growing intensity with which she is finishing the song. It swallows the screen just in time for the final line, as she sings “she is risen” with great passion. I love it when a plan comes together.
While we’re still applauding, she commences playing a dark and ferocious introduction to
Beauty Queen. The single notes of the song are replaced by powerful chords, to great effect.
To no-one’s great surprise, she immediately moves into
Horses, to wild cheering. I, however, am feeling just slightly disappointed again. It’s not a good live song in my opinion, because there’s relatively little that can be done to make it interesting and the hypnotic effect of the original simply can’t be reproduced in this setting. I’m definitely still enjoying myself, just not as much as with some other songs.
It completely fascinates me, though, that she chooses to tap the piano at the precise moment in the song that she presses a switch on the Leslie Cabinet in the original. Okay,
one of the moments she does it in the original, there are several.
The next song has a long introduction which I can’t pin down. Helen’s guess that it’s
Mother Revolution proves to be correct. I’d like to think my failure is because the studio version has no introduction whatsoever, but I suspect I’m just having an off night in that respect.
It’s a dark and moody performance, with big pauses to enable switches between the piano and organ. Then she starts playing both at once, and stares almost defiantly into the audience – who duly applaud her. She then ups the stakes ever further by singing while still playing both instruments. She resolutely refuses to give her left hand even the slightest glance while it’s twisted round behind her. At this point, my admiration for her technical skills is sky high. My admiration for her musical skills is pretty well always at that level anyway, so nothing new there.
Just as I’m wondering what the next song will be, and how close to the end of the main set we might be, she begins the instantly recognisable
Silent All These Years to wild acclaim. It’s obvious that for some people this is a very special song. And with good reason, but the live version seems to me to be merely average by her exalted standards. Of course, average for her is still something I would gladly hear. I am, it must be said, rather impressed by the way she syncopates the piano part against the voice without even a hint of difficulty.
And then, it is time for the epic.
She turns to the organ and starts what is quite clearly
The Beekeeper. The introduction seemingly takes forever (later consultation of the internet suggests that this concert had one of the longer versions) and she seems to be making adjustments to the organ as she goes.
When she finally starts singing, there is no cheer. It’s the only song of the night that doesn’t get applause, but somehow that seems appropriate. It is an intense and serious song, made even more so by being lengthened. Also, there is red smoke seemingly pouring out of the stage behind her, which lasts for about two thirds of the song, and a ring of flames circling the hexagonal screen, which lasts until almost the end of the song whereupon it morphs into something vaguely resembling honey. But at the moment, it looks like she’s singing near the gates of hell. Cheering is probably not the best option.
She’s particularly intense for the dance around the hive. The song is a hard listen, in all honesty (which makes it even more daring for a concert closer. I did something similar in one of my public performances on piano, so I appreciate the effect). The organ sound is tiring over longer periods in a way that the piano isn’t, and while I don’t particularly appreciate the restlessness of a couple of people just in front of me I at least can understand it. No-one rushes the stage during or after the song, probably because in the Opera House there really isn’t anywhere to rush TO.
The near total silence of the crowd is replaced by thunderous cheering as she finishes. She rises and so do they. She bows, and runs off stage in the dark.
She’s back before long. She sits down, still facing us, and begins playing a single repeated note. The huge roar shows that most people know it’s
Leather.
It’s a relatively predictable choice. While thinking this I also realise how stupid it is for me, a person who’s never seen Tori live before, to find a song ‘predictable’. I’ve clearly spent too much time reading the websites of people who have gone to enough concerts to claim to be bored by the regular appearance of some of her favourites.
Once I get over these feelings, I start paying attention and realise the song is actually quite fun. She clearly enjoys the instrumental part and the big fat cigar that follows it.
However, this performance is completely overshadowed by what comes next, which is
Sweet the Sting. It’s sweet indeed.
She begins by singing “baby is it sweet”, only that description is totally inadequate. It’s much more like “baby is it sway-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ayeet”. With probably a lot more syllables. It’s strongly rhythmic.
And sexy as hell. The whole song drips with hormones. Apparently people near the front can also see Tori’s mouth dripping with drool, which probably isn’t quite as attractive. From row R, however, all I can see is a woman who is hotter in her 40s than most people will ever be. As she sings the words “cinnabar juice” she produces a look that
should have had every male in the audience going week at the knees. Including the gay ones.
The second half of the concert has been relatively disappointing until now, a little bit up and down compared to the first half. But at this point I am right back into it, treasuring every note.
She leaves the stage again, to her 3rd standing ovation. This time she stays away a fraction longer, and the applause only intensifies.
She returns, sits down at the piano, and begins playing
Crazy. Wouldn’t you know it, my semi-official “least favourite song from the
Scarlet’s Walk album” comes along and completely enchants me. I’m sure she sings the first line: “not saying not charmed at all” directly AT the audience, as if to say, “I’m really enjoying my first concert here for ten years, hope you are too”. Oh, you bet. I hang on every word of a song I normally can’t focus on properly. It’s incredibly warm, and my smile is back with a vengeance.
With the knowledge that there’s almost certainly just one song left to go, I hear the opening notes of
Cooling.
Within a few bars, a feeling of intense sadness sweeps over me. I already know three versions of the song – the studio version from the
Spark single, the Venus live version and the DVD one. It’s a sad song, but it never, ever came close to feeling like this before. It could be simply because it’s the last song, but it feels like a lot more than that. Some guy lets out a cheer and it’s all I can do to restrain myself from yelling out “leave her alone, you BASTARD!”.
The feeling doesn’t abate. All through the song, my heart aches. I suddenly understand what those words mean. For the rest of the concert I’m smiling, and now I just want to cry. I don’t, but I want to. Helen next to me is crying.
Then the last vocal notes fade away, and it’s over. For the fourth time, people stand to applaud. This time, feet firmly planted with conviction, I join them. I don’t clap as hard as I can, but I do it with utter conviction, which to my way of thinking is far more important.
The lights come on, the background music starts, and it’s over.
Shari said...
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