I've got a confession to make. Back in the early '90s, during the worldwide tremor of Little Earthquakes, I used Tori Amos's debut album to pick up chicks.
I would bring them home to my Ocean Drive hotel room and play them the LP, hoping to, er, make a good impression. On one hand, I wanted to gauge how the dames reacted to the album if they didn't get it, I knew I'd probably not get them. But on the other hand, I wanted to show that, thug as I was, I also had a sensitive side. And that I wasn't afraid to show it either.
Of course, I dug the record, immensely its beautiful hurt, the courageous reveal, its grand and nuanced sweep. I especially dug "Precious Things," and I'd sit down the girl-of-the-night with the lyric sheet and point out, line by line, how brilliant it was. But even now, after all these years, I somehow feel as if I betrayed a confidence by using the record as a tool to win women's hearts, whether or not my intentions were nefarious.
The red-head legend plays the Fillmore tonight at 7:30 p.m. Bring your heart; leave your nefarious intentions behind.
Wed., July 29, 7:30 p.m., 2009
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