Tori Amos turns 43 today.
By far one of the most influential artists to affect my life. How many moments live distinctly in one's mind? For me, not many dozens, but I can recall the moment I was handed a tape of Little Earthquakes in Spanish class, circa 1992, and told, "You're gonna like this." And did I ever? Being that I was a 16 year old gay boy living in Suburbia, I could not directly relate to all of Tori's musings. But there was still something so cathartic to her songs that made the connection so powerful. "Tears on the sleeve of a man, don't want to be a boy today" starts the second album, Under the Pink, and I knew what that meant. What it meant to her, I have no clue, but to me, the imagery rang true. And as I struggled to grow beyond my basic existence into one of more weight and artistic hunger, Tori became a guide. And still is.

I have seen Tori live numerous times. I once camped out on Geary St. for tickets to see her at my favorite San Francisco venue, The Fillmore. Another time, I volunteered to work the onsale at my Tower Records job so I could get first dibs. Thanks to that, my friends and I saw her front row in San Jose as she encored in a full-body tiger outfit to Raspberry Swirl.

I mean, really.

I love her for that.

I have also gotten to see Tori at Radio City Music hall twice, post 9/11. I saw her at Royce Hall at UCLA, where she tore the house down with a stirring cover of "Livin' on a Prayer".

And, I saw her final show of the last tour, which took place at my all-time favorite venue, The Greek Theatre, with one of my best friends Jessica, and it was BRILLIANT. She played some of my favorite songs that come to mind when I actually think of what some of my favorite Tori songs are: A Sorta Fairytale. Winter. Cooling. And thankfully Jessica and my anthem at the time, Cars and Guitars.

If you don't know Tori, and you made it this far in the blog, please open yourself to her. Her music and subsequent piano playing is powerful and immense. And her lyrics unspool like an emotional riddle that once solved serve the most gorgeous of poetic gifts to the listener. Little Earthquakes is by far my favorite album of all time. And her recent book, Tori Amos, Piece By Piece, is a stunning portrait of an artist's growth in both her creative and spiritual life.

Sure, a lot of people classify her as a kook. She claims her songs are all "girls" who come to her like ghosts. She built a "fairy ring" which helped her to write her life-altering first album. And she likens the phases of her life to those of Greek Goddesses. This, and the cat suit, is why I love her. She found her way on a path very few can imagine. But it brought her to this destiny and opened her life up far beyond her imaginings. I believe it is her belief in the outer realms of reality that not only keeps her relevant in the outskirts of the musical world, but also grips her rabid fan base, myself included. She is someone who may not have reached the mainstream, but she has cast her light on an important party of the creative hemisphere, and that is a life worth noting.

Happy Birthday Tori.

Come back soon.

Until then, I'm going to get to work on building me a fairy ring.

What about it?