Amanda Palmer, half of cabaret punk showstoppers The Dresden Dolls, is quite possibly one of the few piano-banging divas capable of upstaging Tori Amos. And this was blatant Friday night at Webster Hall, where she left the piano bench, parted the audience, and made her way to the top of the bar for the evening's final song -- an acoustic, bittersweet rendition of Radiohead's "Creep" that also had her strumming a ukulele. Despite her epic talents, Palmer remains pleasantly humble and relatable. In fact, she's someone you'd want to clink glasses of Merlot with and call your BFF. But even if we never exchanged friendship bracelets, I did manage to get to the self-referential heart of her solo debut, Who Killed Amanda Palmer?, before she took the stage. Palmer straddled the line between gallows humor and poignant introspection, dishing about the driving habits of the Irish, her potentially backstabbing record label, and why nothing could top working with Jesus -- although collaborating with Ben Folds and Neil Gaiman comes awfully close.

So I know you're currently in the middle of your tour. How's the response been?
It's been overwhelming ... it's been fucking fantastic. We've been on tour for six or seven weeks now. We just came back from Europe. [We've toured] everywhere -- Belgium, Italy, the UK, Ireland, Scotland, France, Switzerland, Austria. We played in New Haven the night before last, but the club was all fucked up, and we got cut off early, and there was a terrible dance party. That was like a showus interruptus -- like no one really felt like they got off.