Oakland is cool on this Thursday night, and Tori Amos has come to town. It's taken nearly four months for the Volcano Goddess to wend her way across America, a tornado whose wreckage includes TV performances, fan outbursts and rumors of carpal tunnel syndrome. The wind may be chilly, but the fans are warm and everyone's smiling, which is a good sign.

"There goes the 95-mile-per-hour savior..."

It's difficult to open for an act with such a monstrous presence as Tori Amos -- as Type O Negative discovered when they were booed off the Warfield's stage before a Nine Inch Nails show a couple of years ago -- so I was a little nervous for Willie Porter Jr. "I don't look or sound much like Tori," he quipped, "But I got red hair." Get the audience laughing: that's a step in the right direction.

As it turned out, Porter was ideal as a crowd warm-up. His acoustic guitar was a mix of folk, blues and bluegrass -- a meeting of Leo Kottke and Dave Matthews, perhaps -- while his sweet tenor voice reached up into the sky with amazing range and versatility. Porter combined sensitivity and humor, mixing songs like "Easy on Myself" and the love ballad "Mystery" with hilarious numbers like "Jesus on the Grill:" "I saw Jesus on the grill/Of a Southbound Peterbilt/Getting bugs in his teeth."

Later, he invited the crowd to help him write a song, which wound up being a riotously funny ditty about a one-night stand with a Portuguese man o'war. Porter closed his set with the Jackson Five's "One More Chance," complete with Michael Jackson's pre-teen falsetto. The Wisconsin native's lighthearted set was the perfect counterpoint to Amos' impending emotional tsunami.

"It's like the land of Canaan up here..."

Dusty Springfield's "Son of a Preacherman" played as Amos came to the stage, appropriate for the headstrong minister's daughter who has seduced the world with her unflinching critiques of Christianity, sexuality and patriarchy. She opened her set with "Beauty Queen" and "Horses," the duo that introduce her latest record Boys for Pele. The latter employed an honest-to-goodness Leslie cabinet, bringing a warbling effect to her piano which has gone relatively unheard since Pink Floyd's early days.

Amos' rendition of the REM hit "Losing My Religion" followed, its slowed-down, elliptical arrangement taking on a life of its own under her hands. She then took a break to complain how the vast expanse of the Paramount's orchestra pit had divided her from her fans. "It's like the parting of the Red Sea or something," she explained, asking her stagehands why fans couldn't be up against the stage. "Oh," she responded. "The fireman says no." Her answer to that was another cover, this time of Bruce Springsteen's "I'm On Fire," with a force and tenderness that could make The Boss' American flag burn to cinders.

Works from Pele featured prominently in Thursday's repertoire, including "Mr. Zebra," "Doughnut Song," "Not the Red Baron" and "Talula." Some remained as they do on the album, but others found themselves rearranged and even turned upside down. "Caught a Lite Sneeze" is eerie and searching without the heavy drum tracking, and with the addition of Steve Caton's atmospheric guitarwork.

The duo also made interesting work of "Little Amsterdam," Caton adding yelps and radio-static from other galaxies as Amos' slow, meandering tale of a Southland love-and-murder seeped through the crowd. "Hey Jupiter" has been totally reworked for a pump-organ-style instrument called a harmonium, creating a sense of holiness -- even in the heartbreak of lost love.

"Let me tell you something about America..."

Amos' recent independence -- from both her professional and personal relationships with Eric Rosse -- has brought a new strength to older material, written when she was just beginning to find her voice. "Leather" is cockier than ever; "Tear In Your Hand" muses instead of weeping. "Pretty Good Year" was introduced with the line "I've told a hundred guys this song is for them," implying it's really for no one but herself. During Caton's extended guitar intro to "Cornflake Girl," a song inspired by Alice Walker's Possessing the Secret of Joy, Amos did an adorable African dance. The woman is about celebration; of loss, of pain, of love and life and self.

And then it came -- the tense moment when Amos sang "Me and a Gun," her gut-wrenching a capella song of rape and survival. At other shows folks have laughed, catcalled and shrieked through the song, destroying the trust Amos holds for her audience every time she performs. This time the crowd was mercifully quiet -- except for the sighs and occasional tears -- until the final "I must get out of this" was sung. Then the applause came, and many, many girls were yelling "thank you!"

In general, Thursday's fans were rambunctious and excited. In response to one man who kept screaming requests for "Icicle," Amos replied, "Well, [the songs] can't all come. Some of them have to hold down the fort and make margaritas." She paused, laughed and added, "Icicle's in the blender." Others called out, "I love you Tori!" Amos did honor onr request -- for Y Kant Tori Read, no less -- including a bit of "Etienne" before "Hey Jupiter" began.

Her cover of Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide" was a revealing moment for this musician at a turning point of her life. "I'm afraid of changing 'cause I built my life around you" could have been written by the same hurt soul who penned Pele, and the song's theme of growing older holds truth for Amos, who turns 33 this summer and whose music has spanned girlhood, adolescence and the romantic battlefield of twentysomething life.

Constant touring, working, and dealing with her emotional demons has brought both wisdom and strength to the "girl and her piano" whom Amos thought was dead so long ago. Tori live is something to see; even if you don't understand everything she does, it's worth visiting her world for an evening or two. Check your ego at the door, but don't forget your handkerchief.

This article was originally published in Addicted to Noise.