"What's my name?" the star
asked at one point during his three-hour performance Friday night, the first
of five shows in the Chicago area.
"Prince!" roared the sold-out crowd at the Allstate Arena, which was
bathed in purple spotlights for the occasion.
"Respect that!" the artist snapped.
That exchange pretty much sums up the point of Prince's current tour, his
first jaunt through the nation's enormodomes in more than a decade.
At age 46, newly inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and -- for
the time being, at least -- once again signed to a major label for his
"Musicology" album (copies of which were given to everyone who attended the
show), this dedicated contrarian has decided that it's time to reclaim his
rightful place as a pop icon after years of playing for his faithful cult
following.
Hard-core fans have certainly seen better (because they were more
intimate and less predictable) Prince shows in recent years. The Chicago
Theatre in 2002, the Riviera Theatre in 2000, and the Aragon in 1998 all
spring to mind.
The faithful may grouse about the PG-13 nature of the Allstate Arena
show. (Recently converted as a Jehovah's Witness, Prince is skipping the
hard-core sexual innuendo on this tour and cutting out all the cuss words.)
And it was disconcerting to note that Friday's set list was almost exactly
the same as it has been for every night of the tour, compared with the
smaller-venue gigs of the last few years, where he has always mixed things
up.
But all of this is quibbling: Prince was giving people what they want --
the hits -- after generally avoiding that for quite some time. And he was
doing it in fine form, with one of the best bands of his career, notably
including powerhouse drummer John Blackwell, incredibly funky bassist Rhonda
Smith, deft keyboardist Renato Neto and the great James Brown veteran Maceo
Parker on sax.
The set could have done with a lot more Maceo and a lot less Candy Dulfer,
whose sax playing was superfluous. (She seemed to be around mainly to serve
as eye candy.) But we've come to expect one useless woodwind player on each
Prince tour, and at least she wasn't Najee.
The show opened strong with the title track of "Musicology," which found
Prince throwing down the gauntlet by declaring his intention to "keep the
party movin' ... kick the old-school joint." That he did, by following in
rapid succession with the classics "Let's Go Crazy," "I Would Die 4 U,"
"When Doves Cry" and "Baby I'm A Star."
Other highlights included a dynamic version of "Shhh!" and a
hard-grooving "DMSR" that, despite the cleaned-up lyrics, still didn't
entirely purge the "sex" part of the "dance, music, sex, romance" groove.
Throughout the night, Prince played more lead guitar than he has in
years, clearly enjoying the vibe of being a rock star playing an arena in
the round.
But the best part of the long and generous set was arguably the acoustic
interlude in the middle of the evening, when he rose on a revolving stool in
the center of the stage alone with a purple acoustic guitar to perform some
of his best-known songs.
Prince smiled, joked with the crowd, asked for the house lights to be
turned all the way up and let the fans finish the choruses of tunes such as
"Little Red Corvette," "Cream" and "Raspberry Beret." And these songs never
sounded better.
It was just one man and one guitar, but he held the crowd in his grasp.
In fact, the only other performer I've ever seen do that so effectively was
Sir Paul McCartney.
That's star power. And Prince is right: You've got to respect that.
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