This singer-pianist knows a thing or two about capacity crowds. Thanks to one of the most dedicated fan bases in the industry, Amos remains an excellent draw on the road. Tickets for Sunday’s gig, as well as for the following night’s concert, were gone as fast as agencies could print them. Scalpers were demanding hundreds of dollars per ticket on the Internet.

Amos’ latest release, "Strange Little Girls," is one of the best sounding records of the year. And it’s one of the most ambitious, as Amos attempts to bridge the gap between the sexes by spinning a female perspective on a dozen songs originally done by male artists.

Unfortunately, this is not the right time for "Strange Little Girls." In the aftermath of the tragedies of Sept. 11, the last thing the public wants is a heavy-handed, indulgent look at communication problems between men and women. It just seems a bit trivial during the early stages of war. Plus, times of trouble foster a sense of solidarity and thus, in many ways, the difference between the sexes feels less monumental.

Handled incorrectly in concert, the heavy subject matter could have served as a weight tied around the neck of the audience. But Amos never even addressed the concept behind "Strange Little Angels" on Sunday, instead allowing the music to speak for itself.

And it was quite eloquent. The evening’s five cover songs--four of which came from the new album--ranked as some of the most powerful moments of the night.

In the evening’s only truly theatrical moment, the concert opened with Amos’ chilling take on rapper Eminem’s "’97 Bonnie and Clyde." As she told the tale of a father taking his baby daughter on a joy ride to dispose of her mother’s butchered body, Amos remained out of sight while the crowd stared for a good five minutes at the swirl of lights and the curtain that masked the set. As the eerie song reached its climax, the curtain dropped and the star appeared.

She also delivered a sweet and tender look at Tom Waits' beautiful ballad "Time" and made Joe Jackson’s signature "Real Men" into something all her own. Her naked version of the Boomtown Rats' hit "I Don’t Like Mondays" exposed the song in all its twisted glory.

Despite the wonderful covers, the best song of the evening was the moving a cappella crawl through Amos’ own "Me and a Gun," which details the singer’s experience with rape.

Opener Rufus Wainwright [ tickets ] never got that heavy, but he was still memorable, filling his solo set with catchy, witty songs and joyfully acting like someone who is still getting used to the spotlight. At this point, he shows enough promise for us to expect him to one day headline this beautiful downtown venue on his own.

Amos, on the other hand, was a true force of nature, fingering the piano with raw emotion and singing as if each word mattered more than the last. There was never any doubt that the audience was in the presence of a true professional. It’s all about experience.