islandgirljams' date='Jun 29th 2010, 1:28 PM
LIVE REVIEWLive Review: Adam Lambert at 9:30 ClubShareThis | PrintPost This | Like (1) | Comments (0)
The frizzy-haired, elementary school-aged girl in front of me is waving her blue glowstick like it's a cheerleading baton, shaking it back and forth like she was obeying that inescapable OutKast lyric. Behind her, her mother frantically tries to figure out the recording function on her BlackBerry, desperate not to miss any more of the disco ball and laser lights. To my left, a silver-haired older gentleman rubs his lady friend's back and coos in her ear, quoting the Doors. The three guys behind me just want to dance, swaying frenetically to a mix that involves Santigold and other funky jams.
And the teenage girls to my right — well, the teenage girls to my right need to stop using the flash option on their digital camera while taking their Facebook glamour shots, because it's obnoxious. Oh, and because I have epilepsy — just sayin'.
But what else was Monday's sold-out crowd at 9:30 Club supposed to do while they stood and waited for Adam Lambert, the button-pushing, sequin-bedecked singer of "American Idol" fame, to come and grace them with his presence? They had waited through two opening acts — singers Orianthi and fellow "Idol" alum Allison Iraheta — politely clapped when Iraheta finished her set with a cover of Prince's "Let's Go Crazy" (which, unsurprisingly, only the evening's older audience members seemed to recognize and appreciate) and now it was 9:45 p.m., and Lambert was already supposed to be on, and some of us have work tomorrow, and it's already past bedtime for some of these kids — and some of these grandparents — and hot damn, what's he doing backstage anyway, putting on a corset?
Or maybe, he was avoiding the smell — the 9:30 Club reeked more and more like the desperation of the '80s as the night progressed, of squeaky pleather and smeared makeup and sweat in places where you never knew you had glands. You can blame the humidity or you can blame residual grossness left by Hole's Courtney Love, whose show at the venue Sunday is already becoming infamous. In one word, ugh.
But after 10 minutes, things started to come together. The blasting recorded mix was cut; the lights were dimmed. The image of Lambert on the huge projection screen hanging above the back of the stage switched from him with blue hair, smoky eye makeup and fingerless leather gloves to one of him with black hair, smoky eye makeup, fingerless leather gloves and ... a peacock-feathered collar, arms outstretched, reaching toward the fans. He's here "For Your Entertainment," proclaims his opening song, and as the club goes jet black — well, you can guess what happens next. The place, to put it modestly, explodes.
From the dapper guys in their 30s jumping up and down for a better look to the high school girls gasping and grabbing each other to the children shrieking in delight to their mothers, you know, doing the exact same thing, the sight of Lambert alone was enough to drive this at-capacity crowd crazy. And as he stood at the top of a set of stairs in the middle of the stage, clad in a glittery top hat and cloak-like jacket and swathed in pink and blue laser lights, Lambert ate it up, canvassing the crowd with the unmistakable air of ownership. For tonight, this crowd was his — and he did with it whatever he wanted. (Yup, that means sexually.)
Immediately jumping into "Voodoo," Lambert layered on the innuendo early: First, he toyed with a scantily clad female belly dancer while cooing, "I'm in rapture, there is no cure," then he playfully clawed at the audience during "Down the Rabbit Hole" as he beseeched them to "come on and follow me." Later, he flung off his coat to better thrust and grind during a deliberately suggestive cover of "Ring of Fire," which he performed against a projected image that looked eerily like the Eye of Sauron. And I thought my interests in Middle Earth and Johnny Cash would never intersect — thanks for making a dream come alive, Lambert.
But while some of his fans delighted in Lambert's raunchiness, other moments — like one similar to the same-sex kiss that got him in trouble after November's American Music Awards — didn't seem particularly appropriate for the young children in the audience. Should Lambert have to tame his act for a bunch of kids? Not necessarily; people shouldn't be forced into compromising their artistry. Based on the large number of minors in the audience (I'm not talking Bieber levels, but still sizable), however, maybe comments like, "You are a sexy freaking crowd tonight" and, "It's wet in here, I like it. ... Are you guys wet? I did my job!" aren't entirely necessary. I mean, it's nice to be told I'm pretty, but still!
And really, everyone seemed most pleased when Lambert dropped the synths and strobe lights, sat down on the stage and was just himself, belting with the same kind of vocal prowess that took him so far on "American Idol" last year. Whether he was sitting on a wooden box in the middle of the stage during an acoustic version of hit single "Whataya Want From Me," hitting incredible notes during the almost operatic "Soaked" or baring it all with "Aftermath," Lambert was most impressive and got some of the best crowd reactions when he slowed things down and got more "Beautiful"-era Christina, not this "Not Myself Tonight" monstrosity we have to live with now. Definite downgrade.
But anyway, as he received a whooping ovation to the line, "Wanna scream out, no more hiding" during "Aftermath," it wasn't necessarily clear what hidden meaning this varied-aged crowd was cheering for, but one thing was obvious: If Lambert said it, they were going to like it. And when it comes to the numerous costume changes, half-naked dancers and spectacular light show — well, every cake needs icing, right?
Written by Express contributor Roxana Hadadi
Photo by Jemal Countess/Getty Images
AND FOR MADAM, SO I DON'T GET A SKANKSPANK :P
http://www.expressnightout.com/content/201...live-review.php