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It’s magick time.

Across the small sea of people finding their seats, the smell of incense and burning sage mixed with just a tinge of fog machine, hangs high in the air. There’s excited chatter and nervous laughter bouncing off the walls of the theater. Some of us quietly sing along with whatever Beatles or Zeppelin Mark happens to be playing tonight from his perch at the soundboard. We are settling in for tonight’s communion.

Local crew rushes about the stage making last minute adjustments. Marcel comes out to set Tori’s in-ears cable and wipe down the Bosey’s keys. The crowd cheers for our beloved Marcel. Any friend of Tori’s is a friend of ours. He scurries off to his post at the soundboard hidden behind the heavy velvet curtain at the side of the stage.

The vibe of the room is ALL LOVE. Friends reunite, dates settle in together, and we whisper to each other the song we want to hear most of all tonight, the one we hope will come out and wrap her arms around us and tell us it’s going to be okay.

The lights flicker to let us know it’s time. The piano sits, long and majestic and gleaming, ready for tonight’s journey.

The lights suddenly go down and the crowd roars approval as Tori makes her way across the stage. She bows deeply to us, making a cupping gesture with her hands. She dips them to the ground, then lifts them into the air, an offering to the Muses. To us. She is the conduit, the interpreter, the guide. We ground with her; this is our ritual. It is understood. 

Tori brings her left hand down heavy on the low end of the piano, a thunderous bass sound. She plays a chord with her right, the melody an invocation. This is the moment. Her hands move quickly up and down the keyboard, her stilettoed foot occasionally jamming down on the pedal. We are transfixed. Even if we’ve seen her a thousand times, we are absolutely transfixed.

We are taking a trip together to the farthest reaches of our minds and hearts, into the past and back to the present. We outcasts, outlaws, outsiders sit in the dark together. The room is electric, Tori conducting all that adoration and projection and need. She throws her head back, eyes scanning the balcony, taking in all we have brought her tonight. As she always says, it’s an exchange. We’ve all come to drink deeply from this fountain of sound and knowledge and love and the divine.

We all wait, even Tori, for the revelation the music will bring. 

Turn up the frequency.

Happy tour and welcome! Let’s go… ❤️

** originally posted via substack on 25 march 2023.