origin story

Music is in our souls and bodies from before birth, but I can recall the precise evening when I felt my love for it transform.

In the presence of Tori Amos, one of my heroines, I realized I wanted to be a musician.

It was 1998, my first “real” show.

My family had moved two years prior, right before I began high school. It was socially nerve-wracking but I made friends, including one who played a ton of Tori. Marcie knew all her lyrics and soon so did I. The fantastical arrangements and raging, poetic lyrics of Boys for Pelé, Under the Pink, and Little Earthquakes opened an artistic door for my heart to run through. Tori wrote songs about surviving a rape, being cut down, not fitting in. I didn’t know you could write songs like that.

She toured two years later in support of From the Choirgirl Hotel [another indispensable record]. Marcie and I negotiated terms with and secured rides from our parents. At 16, this felt like a pretty big deal. There were a couple thousand other screaming Tori maniacs in the arena and we were unsupervised.

Her band came onstage and established the energy. Just drums and bass at first, booming, strong. Then guitar: moodiness, atmosphere.

When Tori walked onstage we caught our breath. Some cheered. She waved quickly, sat down, and spread her hands across the keys, a tiny figure from where we stood but ablaze in forest green.

As the melody of “Precious Things” rang out the room erupted.

It was intense and powerful. I had never experienced anything like it but it was right, necessary, visceral; it was everything the song deserved.

Minutes later, in an extended outro that felt like a freight train, Tori lifted one hand off the piano for a split second and threw up a fist. The band responded without seemingly breathing, an extension of her, completely synced. The song careened into its ending and immediately morphed into the opening chords of “Cruel.” [Note: if you’d like to sonically relive this awesomeness, listen to the To Venus and Back record.]

—

i couldn’t identify the motivations and influences at the time, but 22 years later there is a clear path from that night to where I sit today, anchored in a life that prioritizes my need to step through gateways of artistic expression. There were thickets of expectations, aspirations and revised principles along the way. I have floundered MANY times. People I love have kept me from giving up. Tori arches over all of it, encouraging listeners and fans by her very existence, supporting survivors of trauma with empathy and resilience, putting herself out into the world to reassure a 16-year-old that she isn’t alone.