Tori Amos at the Starlight Theatre

My Tori Amos record collection, which ends at From the Choirgirl Hotel, has been on the shelf for years. I was obsessed with her in high school — I spent countless hours trying to decipher the convoluted sexual metaphors in her songs and then wrote my own afflicted derivations. I sang “China” at a pops concert. And I even named my dog Tori.

I started to lose interest, though, after Amos’ unfortunate 2001 covers album, Strange Little Girls. The strange little girl in me perked right up, however, as soon as my old idol appeared last night at the Starlight Theatre and began pounding out enchanting melodies to which she sang in that signature voice that can grow from serpentine crackle to a fairy’s wail.

The elfin-faced Amos emerged with a drummer and guitar/bassist a little before 9 p.m. in a gingham dress that was mini-skirt short in front, with a slight train in back. Beneath it she wore tight pink leggings and high heels. On a beautiful evening, a crowd that probably would have filled the Uptown looked sparse at the Starlight. Those who did attend were treated to a genuine and at times even magical performance. The wash on stage varied from purple and green hues to a starlit blue design. During “Cornflake Girl” I saw two birds swoop in unison over Amos and into the backstage and wondered if it was real.