It was Britney Spears with melanin, a human embodiment of the Dead Kennedys song, “Triumph of the Swill.”
Sitting through the thankfully brief Monday night concert by diva-in-waiting Alicia Keys was made to seem interminable for a number of reasons, foremost among them that we just don’t have the time for this nonsense anymore.
Keys is essentially a CD that has sold in the millions, a ton of hype and an appearance on the telethon to benefit the victims of the World Trade Center attacks. And in a world where time suddenly seems more precious than ever, who wants to waste an hour with empty, saccharine sheen?
Most frustrating is that Keys has talent, but, as one of the neo-soulsters, though an ersatz one, Keys is little more than the big money Terminator, built to co-opt the forward-thinking, historically aware neo-soul by the likes of Jill Scott and Erykah Badu.
Opening with a horrific adaptation of Beethoven Fifth Symphony, which was self-importantly rearranged for piano, overblown band and three average backup singers, Keys let it be known right away that this wasn’t to be a night of musical introspection. Those hoping that the live setting would allow her rein to show off the talent that has been coated with radio friendly slickness on her “Songs in A Minor” were to be disappointed.
“Rock Wit U” was, like almost every other song in Keys’ set, a by-the-numbers reading that came off as little more than a really loud, live radio.
Her best song was a cover of Prince’s “How Come You Don’t Call Me.” It was a plaintive ditty turned defiant, but even the ending was a contrived bit of fluff.
The set’s conclusion was Sincerity Time, when Keys sat down at her piano, solo, to show the ability that has gotten her fledgling career showered with the kind of hype that makes a performer lazy.
“Butterfly” was elegant, though overblown and ultimately empty. And then she brought out the telethon song, a cover of “Someday We’ll All Be Free” by Donny Hathaway.
Her reading on the telethon was powerful, a shining example of a singer taken over by a powerful moment. On Monday it was just a showstopper, trotted out like a favorite scarf or hat, a magical tune robbed of its glory.
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It’s tough being a female singer when the role models seem to be self-aware divas and belly button-baring moppets. It’s too bad that Keys tried to stand out by having a foot in both camps.