More theatrics than magic in Amos show

A severe young woman in black vinyl and blue silk commandeered Tori Amos's piano at the Orpheum Thursday night. She shivered and shook under her inky shag, grabbed her crotch and clutched at her throat, and sang glam anthems - on her knees for "Fat Slut," and with a leg cocked high on the piano bench during "Teenage Hustling."

This was Pip, one of five characters Amos assembled to deliver the songs on her most recent album, "American Doll Posse." Amos performs the first portion of each show on her current tour as one of these female archetypes; it's a signature Amos theme - the pursuit of wholeness - taken to a new level of theatricality. By the luck of the draw, the deliriously devoted crowd at the first of Amos's two Boston shows was subjected to a swaggering mini-set by the least likable girl in the bunch. It looked to be liberating for the artist but was a less-gratifying exercise for those of us untransformed by sexy costumes or heavy concepts.

Pip's battering rock songs are the least-interesting tracks on "American Doll Posse," and while she only sang six of them, Amos didn't ever quite lose that character's disaffected persona and penchant for poses. And that meant less heartfelt expression from the musical oracle fans know and love. Amos performed as Tori (also one of the characters in the Posse) for the rest of the nearly 2 1/2-hour concert, stomping heartily through new tunes "Big Wheel" and "Bouncing Off Clouds," a shimmering dance number, as well as the older gems "Crucify" and "Cornflake Girl," "Jackie's Strength" and "Concertina."

Amos improvised a saucy paean to Miss Massachussetts, who attended the show in her beauty-pageant sash. With the help of her crack band (guitarist Dan Phelps, bassist Jon Evans, and the incomparable drummer Matt Chamberlain), Amos scaled a handful of fresh musical peaks, transforming "Take to the Sky" with reams of fluid grooves and cobbling an all-new "Hotel" from shifting walls of majestic sound. Gorgeous lighting that resembled spinning galaxies contributed to the celestial ambience.

But for all the sonic innovation and conceptual theatrics, there was little human drama here. Amos produced few magical moods, fewer meaningful silences, and nary a cosmic-grade revelation - once her stock-in-trade, and the very things that endear her to an audience hungry for more than verse and chorus.

Joan Anderman can be reached at anderman@globe.com. For more on music, go to boston.com/ae/ music/blog.