Apple turns in a haunting show

Whatever demons possess Fiona Apple when she writes her songs continue to haunt and taunt her when she performs them live.

Friday night at an appropriately dramatic wind- and rain-swept Bank of America Pavilion, the chanteuse played an hour-and-45- minute set that was by turns funny, frightening, feral and -- judging by her grimaces, barks and convulsions -- always deeply felt. She clearly welcomes the ghosts in her ``Extraordinary Machine."

Backed by a four-man band, Apple split her time between that record and its two predecessors, hopscotching from the angular piano pop of ``Get Him Back" to sultry mood pieces like ``Slow Like Honey" and manic, multipart rockers like ``Limp."

Although the way she pushed her vocals on songs like the churning ``Sleep to Dream" and others -- somewhere between a hard-edged rap and a seemingly uncontrollable shriek -- wasn't always the most melodious or pleasing sound, it felt like something Apple needed to do, as did the garment gripping and flailing that punctuated ``Fast as You Can."

But when she wasn't baring her soul Apple was in good spirits, thanking the audience for coming out (`` If it were me I would've not left my house tonight") and telling self-deprecating tales of scraping the bottom of the emotional well (`` It's a hobby of mine," she joked).

Apple closed the night with the playful, carnival-esque ``Extraordinary Machine," the serpentine ``Criminal," and a solo piano version of the defiant ``Parting Gift."

Damien Rice drew almost as many cheers from the close - to - capacity crowd as Apple for his shockingly high volume and high intensity renditions of songs that come off as tender ruminations on his critically acclaimed record ``O."

Although the foul weather waylaid his normal bassist -- Apple's man stepped in for a few tunes -- Rice's aces were delicate vocalist Lisa Hannigan , cellist Vyvienne Long , and his own facility at building a wall of noise and harmony with various pedals and assistance from the soundman.

While some songs like ``The Blower's Daughter" retained their lilting frameworks, others that started as gentle ebbs and flows eventually whipped themselves into a roiling frenzy that revealed the rage beneath the often placid surfaces of the Irishman's songs.

Texan singer-songwriter David Garza opened the show.