Strippified review Blender
Jul. 12th, 2003 03:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lincolnkwTacoma Dome, Tacoma, WA June 8, 2003
by Ann POwers (typos by me)
Justin Timberlake has the best shoulders in pop - a mere shrug and he seems to be aloft, laughing at gravity. But right now, in the night's carefully featured highlight, he's literally hanging over fans in the Tacoma Dome, a cavernous stadium south of Seattle: Having mounted a crane, he's playing the human beatbox, his drummer and his DJ in a battle that roots his show in old-school rap, and quoting the early '80s Bronx electro gem "Planet Rock."
The crowd - hip-hop babies in trucker baseball caps and short shorts - needs more than anexcuse to scream this time. Timberlake and Christina Aguilera won over these kids in the late '90s by delivering the formulas that teens suck up. But now stakes are differet, not only becasue the crows has matured, but also because both performers want more priveleges than even many grownup stars have. They want meaning, respect, the right to express themselves freely.
They'd like to be loved for their minds, but on the third night of the Justified & Stripped tour, the two stars use different body zones to accomplish their goals. Aguilera us all lower chakra - vocal prowess and sexual vamp. She emerges in a catsuit showing off around belly, the source of strength for a singer who understands how to breathe and belt. LEading with the notorious "Dirrty," she unveils a visiion that's raw, proud and surprisingly rock & roll.
On a set that looks like The Matrix's Zion ready for another orgy, Aguilera prowls, dressed most often in pink and black, the colors of eroticism. She rubs skin with her dancers in intimate routines, and she pops a wheelie on a giant crotch rocket during her women's-lib anthem "Can't Hold Us Down." The sensual variety show culminates as Aguilera admires a Chippendale-style dancer enclosed in a glass cage, who tantalizes her as the curtain drops. The crowd-wowing number turns the tables on "Lady Marmalade," the Labelle song about a prostitute, which Aguilera boldly celebrates while sporting a tassled bustier.
In addition to displaying her body as a means of sexual emancipation, Aguilera's view of female power includes her fleshy, powerhouse wail. Though she's often compared to chilly techinique queens like Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston, she really wants to be a red-hot blues mama, an archetype she honors with chesty renditions of the Etta James greats "at Last" and "I Prefer You."
Her excesses reflect an understanding that a woman's voice is attachedto a body - one that feels good when it's fully engaged, exploring it's limits. She always pushes too hard - that's part of her admirable humanity - and she hits some shrill notes. But in a Pro Tools and silicone world, her unmodulated enthusiasm sets a bright course.
If Aguilera lives in her gut, timberlake is all upper body, and during his strikingly self-assured performance, he drips with the grace that has lifted him far above his peers. Beginning with a choreographic remix of "Rock Your Body,"
he seems headed toward a performance that's precise but a little cold. But soon enough, he grabs a standing microphone and tenders a few 'N Sync songs in deft arrangements that recall such '70s dance bands as Earth, Wind & Fire. Timberlake doesn't have killer vocal chops, but like another dancer who sang - not Michael Jackson, but Fred Astaire - he approaches each melody as fi it were another series of steps, gliding around the main line in sweet pirouettes.
Timberlake's set features songs from his artful solo debut, Justified, in arrangements that substitute peppy funk-soul jams for the thrilling production of the Neptunes and Timbaland. Live, the music might have seem insipid without Timberlake's gret moves; there are moments when a Quiet Storm threatens the horizon. But just when the vaguely Caribbean beats and lush backing vocals get dull, Timerlake takes his falsetto for a spin or jumps on top ofthe piano to pop and lock, and the dazzle returns.
Yes, the choreography makes clear, Michael Jackson looms as a mentor. Jackson copped many of his early moves from Bronx b-boys, and Timberlake's dancing seems even more influenced by the Rock steady Crew's legendary rubber-limbed Crazylegs. Though he was born and raised inthe South before there was a Dirty South, Timberlake's absolute ease wit hhip-hop proves how thoroughly rap has conquered the nation.
Where his crossover peer Eminem loves hip-hop for its rage and verbal aptitude, Timberlake loves the culture's physicality, and as this tour shows, he can take any challenger in a breakdancing circle. this blond b-boy is the most elegant white man alive.
they gave it four out of five stars. Cool beans.
by Ann POwers (typos by me)
Justin Timberlake has the best shoulders in pop - a mere shrug and he seems to be aloft, laughing at gravity. But right now, in the night's carefully featured highlight, he's literally hanging over fans in the Tacoma Dome, a cavernous stadium south of Seattle: Having mounted a crane, he's playing the human beatbox, his drummer and his DJ in a battle that roots his show in old-school rap, and quoting the early '80s Bronx electro gem "Planet Rock."
The crowd - hip-hop babies in trucker baseball caps and short shorts - needs more than anexcuse to scream this time. Timberlake and Christina Aguilera won over these kids in the late '90s by delivering the formulas that teens suck up. But now stakes are differet, not only becasue the crows has matured, but also because both performers want more priveleges than even many grownup stars have. They want meaning, respect, the right to express themselves freely.
They'd like to be loved for their minds, but on the third night of the Justified & Stripped tour, the two stars use different body zones to accomplish their goals. Aguilera us all lower chakra - vocal prowess and sexual vamp. She emerges in a catsuit showing off around belly, the source of strength for a singer who understands how to breathe and belt. LEading with the notorious "Dirrty," she unveils a visiion that's raw, proud and surprisingly rock & roll.
On a set that looks like The Matrix's Zion ready for another orgy, Aguilera prowls, dressed most often in pink and black, the colors of eroticism. She rubs skin with her dancers in intimate routines, and she pops a wheelie on a giant crotch rocket during her women's-lib anthem "Can't Hold Us Down." The sensual variety show culminates as Aguilera admires a Chippendale-style dancer enclosed in a glass cage, who tantalizes her as the curtain drops. The crowd-wowing number turns the tables on "Lady Marmalade," the Labelle song about a prostitute, which Aguilera boldly celebrates while sporting a tassled bustier.
In addition to displaying her body as a means of sexual emancipation, Aguilera's view of female power includes her fleshy, powerhouse wail. Though she's often compared to chilly techinique queens like Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston, she really wants to be a red-hot blues mama, an archetype she honors with chesty renditions of the Etta James greats "at Last" and "I Prefer You."
Her excesses reflect an understanding that a woman's voice is attachedto a body - one that feels good when it's fully engaged, exploring it's limits. She always pushes too hard - that's part of her admirable humanity - and she hits some shrill notes. But in a Pro Tools and silicone world, her unmodulated enthusiasm sets a bright course.
If Aguilera lives in her gut, timberlake is all upper body, and during his strikingly self-assured performance, he drips with the grace that has lifted him far above his peers. Beginning with a choreographic remix of "Rock Your Body,"
he seems headed toward a performance that's precise but a little cold. But soon enough, he grabs a standing microphone and tenders a few 'N Sync songs in deft arrangements that recall such '70s dance bands as Earth, Wind & Fire. Timberlake doesn't have killer vocal chops, but like another dancer who sang - not Michael Jackson, but Fred Astaire - he approaches each melody as fi it were another series of steps, gliding around the main line in sweet pirouettes.
Timberlake's set features songs from his artful solo debut, Justified, in arrangements that substitute peppy funk-soul jams for the thrilling production of the Neptunes and Timbaland. Live, the music might have seem insipid without Timberlake's gret moves; there are moments when a Quiet Storm threatens the horizon. But just when the vaguely Caribbean beats and lush backing vocals get dull, Timerlake takes his falsetto for a spin or jumps on top ofthe piano to pop and lock, and the dazzle returns.
Yes, the choreography makes clear, Michael Jackson looms as a mentor. Jackson copped many of his early moves from Bronx b-boys, and Timberlake's dancing seems even more influenced by the Rock steady Crew's legendary rubber-limbed Crazylegs. Though he was born and raised inthe South before there was a Dirty South, Timberlake's absolute ease wit hhip-hop proves how thoroughly rap has conquered the nation.
Where his crossover peer Eminem loves hip-hop for its rage and verbal aptitude, Timberlake loves the culture's physicality, and as this tour shows, he can take any challenger in a breakdancing circle. this blond b-boy is the most elegant white man alive.
they gave it four out of five stars. Cool beans.
