Intended to represent a pantheon of modern archetypes, these spirits include a journalist, a sheriff, the angel of death, and an aging showgirl. Amos even imagines a grownup version of the daughter in the Eminem song. A brunette with smudged mascara, she is represented by the title track, a tune by the Stranglers that cautions strange little girls to "beware." For her rambling, loungey version of the Beatles' "Happiness Is a Warm Gun," Amos takes on the persona of a call girl, explaining that Mark David Chapman contacted an escort service just previous to shooting John Lennon. "And do you know what service he asked her to perform?" inquires the singer with a penetrating stare. "He asked her to be silent." She concludes with a nod, as if satisfied that this woman has finally been given a voice. Her favorite came to life through the Lloyd Cole song "Rattlesnakes." Tori's character is a platinum blonde in a Kiss jacket who likes to drive in the desert, a fitting apparition for the pulsing Rhodes piano that opens into a lush acoustic strum and the chorus, "She looks like Eva Marie Saint in 'On the Waterfront'/ She reads Simone de Beauvoir in her American circumstance."
"['Rattlesnakes'] wasn't part of my life when it came out," she notes, "and it's become this little song that was able to look into a woman and how she thinks and feels better than how I've been able to look into women sometimes."
It's hard to overlook the fun Amos must have had playing dress-up and posing for photographer Thomas Schenck for the album's artwork. Transformation wizard Kevyn Aucoin did the makeup, and Amos' character bios were written by friend Neil Gaiman, the graphic novelist whose "Sandman" series has almost as big a following as Amos does. "We figured if I'm doing impressions of male songs then a man was gonna have to do impressions of the impressions."
None of the above are accompanying Amos on her U.S. tour, which is currently under way. "No 'Tori does drag queen,' " she smiles. For the first time since 1994 the singer will be returning to her signature format and performing solo, with her piano. "Every night will be different," she promises. "We really don't know what the show's going to be that night; I sneak around behind curtains and get a vibe of the audience and the city I'm in."
This kind of adaptability has served Amos well. Never trendy, her music remains relevant because it asks questions; once a question is answered she moves on. "I think you have to let yourself change," she muses. "When I meet people and they split me open to a whole new way of thinking, that's exciting. Because I believed in something so much when I was 29, when I'm 38 I can say, 'Yeah, right. Not now.' But it worked then. Doesn't mean it was a lie. The shoes just don't fit anymore." Her eyes widen with amusement. "Nor do the pants."
