Professional Widow
Saturday night, me and Jeff got to enjoy his Valentine day present by seeing Tori Amos in concert at the Palais des Congres de Paris. I think the entire evening can be summarized as :
Oh. My . Fucking. GOD!
It went beyond anything we could have expected and everything we could have hoped for. She's even more amzing than we thought. I knew she had a tremendous voice and some mean piano skills, but DAMN! We're talking about a woman who was sitting with a grand piano on her left, an organ on her right, playing both at the same freaking time while singing and looking at the public. Pure magic.
The place really complemented her too. The accoustics were so pure we probably could have heard her without a mike (and we were sitting about forty yards away) and the lighting work was easily the best I ever saw - each song's mood was perfectly underlined. Even her outfit - a copper-sequined catsuit the color of her hair - managed to fit the theme instead of looking like a cher-concert hand-me-down, and that's no mean feat.
Except for Crucify myself, she avoided her so-called "classics" in favor of much more intimate, blusy numbers. She kept us in a unique mood for over two hours. We came out of there tingling all over.
I'm still hearing her sing...
Oh. My . Fucking. GOD!
It went beyond anything we could have expected and everything we could have hoped for. She's even more amzing than we thought. I knew she had a tremendous voice and some mean piano skills, but DAMN! We're talking about a woman who was sitting with a grand piano on her left, an organ on her right, playing both at the same freaking time while singing and looking at the public. Pure magic.
The place really complemented her too. The accoustics were so pure we probably could have heard her without a mike (and we were sitting about forty yards away) and the lighting work was easily the best I ever saw - each song's mood was perfectly underlined. Even her outfit - a copper-sequined catsuit the color of her hair - managed to fit the theme instead of looking like a cher-concert hand-me-down, and that's no mean feat.
Except for Crucify myself, she avoided her so-called "classics" in favor of much more intimate, blusy numbers. She kept us in a unique mood for over two hours. We came out of there tingling all over.
I'm still hearing her sing...