Tori Amos: An Interview

by Thomas Dimopoulos

“Hello,” said the voice, a faint trace of Gaelic mist in her tone.
“This is Tori.
And I’m going into a tunnel.”

Her verse is a rich prose where ancient myth blends with modern archetypes.
Her music, at least in part, comes from the Bosendorfer — a type of piano
made in Vienna, Austria.

To her inspired following of “Toriphiles,” she is nothing less than
an alternate source of life energy — although Amos is humble
in the praise and says she doesn’t want to be placed on any kind of pedestal.

To more than one music reviewer, she has been labeled as making strange
and spacey comments during interviews. The labels are easy to come by:
Minister’s daughter. Child prodigy of the piano.
High school homecoming queen and student of Gnostic gospels.

Archetypes of the public relations grist mill, or is it?

“I’m going into a tunnel,” she said on the road from her cell phone.

Already, the spacey-ness had begun.

In her most recent release, “The Beekeeper,” Amos creates
multiple layers of a symbolic musical garden.

So what was this metaphorical tunnel?
A symbolic return to birth. Perhaps.
A re-creation of the garden — Mary’s original garden.
Was this the tunnel of first creation?
Was it Eden?
Was it Heaven?
Just where was this mystical tunnel?

“Connecticut,” she said. “We’re on our way to a show in Wallingford, Conn.
I’m on a cell phone in the bus and we’re going into a tunnel,
so I may lose you.”

Oh, THAT tunnel.

Monday, she will celebrate a birthday.
Tuesday, Amos’ Original Sinsuality tour will head to Saratoga for a performance at SPAC.

As a songwriter, Amos says the creativity comes in forms of both music and lyric.

“Basically it’s a combination,” she said.
“Ideas are always around us. Some don’t make us immediately jump up — because we’re so comfortable with our feet up on the couch
and we don’t want to get up.
Then there are other ideas that are buried in our own consciousness —
like an invisible tattoo —
and I walk around with these ideas,” Amos said.

“There’s a beautiful silver web, the creatrix, and it’s connected to ideas and visuals.
I’ll see it in a Chagall painting, or in a picture from a photographer taken in the 1950s.I also work with archetypes that capture the emotion,” Amos said.

“We’re all made up of different archetypes and if you’re open to it, it can be a powerful experience.”

For this particular leg of the tour, Amos is using New York City as a hub.
It is where she was nearly four years ago on Sept. 11.
Her cross-country travels have delivered an unusual perspective on the country then, and now.

“There was a shift that occurred, a few shifts,” said Amos,when asked if she could perceive a changing consciousness during the past four years.

“At first, there was an outpouring of love for fellow human beings and there was a grieving.
Then there was shock.
Shock that we were going to war,” she said.

Today, after the shock has worn off, people are looking at the realities from a different perspective.

“I’ll meet mothers who have a son in Iraq, and they’ll say: Can you play ‘Winter’?
With tears in their eyes, they will ask: Can you play ‘Ribbons Undone'?
That is the consciousness of where we are now.
Or, at least that is my experience in the people that I meet.”

Music aside, Amos said one of her favorite films is the Wayans Brothers’ comedy “White Chicks.”
“It made me laugh and laugh.”

For reading material there is Joseph Campbell’s
“The Power of Myth.” Currently, she is engaged in the James Hollis book,
“Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life: How to Finally, Really Grow Up.”

“It is about finding meaning and creating a path for the next generation to fulfill,” Amos said.

The search for meaning and the act of taking responsibility is a reccuring theme.

“We may want to run for the hills, but we can’t, because who else
will deal with it?
Who will pay the bills, and deal with problems.
Who will bring the kids to the doctor?” said Amos, whose traveling companion
is her 4-year-old daughter Tash — short for Natashya.

“We are the grunge generation,” she said.
“Even if we come wearing high heels and bearing an acoustic piano.”

Accepting responsibility, Amos said, is best engaged with bravery
and vitality.

“This is our role. Carrying on in our personal life. Carrying it in our professional life and meeting the challenges of our generation.”

Her voice strong, as the signal clear, coming out of the tunnel.

Published in The Saratogian, Aug. 19, 2005.