If Baker was nervous during her hometown return, she needn’t have been. She made a running joke out of her age: “I’m too old for this,” she said at one point, later declaring it was “almost time for night-night.” But given the polish of her vocal performance, the excuses weren’t necessary. The stretches between songs could have used tightening: Too often, the pace felt tentative and rambling, as if Baker was self-conscious in her big moment. She scatted and improvised - even turning her stage chatter into melodies on the spot.įriday’s show was best when Baker zeroed in on her music. She sounded strong at LCA, whether climbing up the scale or nestling into her lower register in her trademark move. Not every 64-year-old singer holds up as well as Baker has managed. That doesn’t mean she’s incapable of vocal fireworks on demand, and she was happy to ignite them Friday when needed to drive home numbers like “No One in the World.” More: Elton John wraps up his Detroit career with a final goodbye for 40,000 at Comerica ParkĮven with her abundant vocal skills and wide range, Baker has never been one to grandstand as a singer, instead relying on the warmth and richness of her tone to sell a song with nuance. ![]() More: Anita Baker, Roger Waters, Concert of Colors, Faster Horses lead busy concert weekend She seemed caught up in giddiness for her opening number, “Same Ole Love (365 Days a Year),” punching the air and peppering the song with excited “ooThey were among show highlights that included a shimmering “Angel,” a special moment plucked from her early solo days an emotional “Fairy Tales” late in the set and “Lead Me into Love,” where Baker made soft-lit sounds blossom into a musical crescendo with her backing vocalists. Taking the stage in a sequined jumpsuit and golden shawl, Baker was briefly teary-eyed as she greeted the crowd, mouthing “thank you” as she absorbed the scene. And based on a show of hands solicited by the singer during the show, the crowd included a fair number of folks who’d traveled across the country for the occasion. Some of these local fans have been devoted to Baker since her '70s days with the Detroit band Chapter 8. This show came in hot: Tickets sold out in in less than an hour last month, and the energy inside LCA Friday was crackling with the feel of a big-time event, complete with pyrotechnics and a closing blast of confetti. But unless she suffers reverses I wouldn't wish on Frank Sinatra, she'll never risk an interesting album again.It was a classy affair with moments of magic, even if things got halting and clunky between songs - an odd note of uncertainty from an artist whose musical abilities are clearly intact. ![]() Here she's down to two collaborations as the credits edge toward El Lay-if Britten-Lyle and the Perris have anted up, can Carole Bayer Sager and Toto be far behind? She's not a total loss yet-despite the universal lyrics and inflated choruses, three tracks make something of her established standards. Rid of funky minor-label producer-songwriter Patrick Moten, she composed two tracks for Rapture and worked on a third. Where five years ago Baker was a soul singer who honored the traditional soul audience's lounge leanings, now she's an arena-lounge singer manufacturing generalized intimacy for 26-to-45s. ![]() God knows it's more soulful, and sexier, too, but that's all it is-a reification of the human voice as vehicle of an expression purer than expression ever ought to be. From its strong lounge-jazz beat to its conscious avoidance of distracting lyrical detail, it's all husky, burnished mood, the fulfillment of the quiet-storm format black radio devised to lure staider customers away from white-bread temptations like soft rock and easy listening. ![]() Having listened far more than natural inclination dictated, I've become actively annoyed with this vocal watershed. The violin and woodwind touches hark back to when soul had something to sell out with, the jazzy guitar comps look forward to when it'll storm the big rooms, the funky bottom bespeaks commitment, the hooky songwriting bespeaks smarts, and the voice sings. sophisticate has the audacity to pretend she can make pop music out of the shit. In a time when the only black people with the guts to go for the soul are Mississippi recidivists and moldy oldies, this L.A.
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