Dido’s show Reddy-made for Joint

Geoff Carter

Tuesday, June 19, 2001 | 8:27 a.m.

We may have gotten the wrong idea about Dido. I'm not talking about the notoriety she got from Eminem's "Stan," which sampled heavily from her song "Thank You." Nor am I thinking of "Here With Me," made popular by the teen-alien silliness of the WB's despairing show "Roswell." Rather, I think we may have prematurely dubbed her a "new artist." Her show Monday night at the Hard Rock's Joint betrayed influences almost 30 years old.

To be specific, the earnest but thin-voiced Dido reminded me not of Sarah McLachlan or Beth Orton or Everything But The Girl -- the company she's most often placed in -- but of Australian pop chanteuse Helen Reddy. Like Reddy, Dido's earnest vocals slide with the material, instead of climbing on top of it. And minus the slick production that distinguished her multimillion selling debut "No Angel" -- as she was Monday night -- Dido sounds exactly like the adult contemporary artists I heard on AM radio growing up. Helen Reddy, for example.

She tries hard enough. You can see it in her face and hunched shoulders; she really wants to perform, even if the mere idea of doing so makes her uneasy. (At least twice she interrupted her banter because she thought she heard someone in the audience talking to her -- come on, Dido, audiences are known to do that.) She pulls her high notes down to a place she's comfortable with, and holds them at the peril of going flat. "Isobel" and "Honestly OK" were perfect cases in point -- neatly arranged at eye level. Never once did she reach up or duck down.

I have no problem with any of this; the pop world needs such songwriters as Dido, and heaven knows that little punk Eminem needs all the help he can get these days. And it's nice to have another Helen Reddy out there, seeing as the one we've got is pushing 60. (She looked and sounded great on "Matlock" -- I'll give her that.) But Dido shouldn't pretend to an ambition she clearly doesn't have, and she may want to reconsider her approach to performing: This frown-and-shrug approach allows her players -- and certain members of the audience -- to roll over her with unhealthy frequency.

Opening act Emiliana Torrini, on the other hand, is the real thing. The loopy Icelandic singer-songwriter strongly echos those of Iceland's other big pop export -- but unlike Bjork, Torrini lives on our plane of reality, and makes it sound all the better. Garbed in a bride's gown for reasons unclear (I think she explained it early on; I missed what was certainly the most interesting story of the night) and dancing like a five-stringed puppet, Torrini dazzled with song after song from her luminous debut, "Love in the Time of Science."

Torrini delivered the quirky, unhinged genius Dido's album promised, and with more warmth and style than the headliner. Do yourself a favor -- get her record and hear her roar.