Neil Diamond made small gestures register maximum effect Tuesday at a packed United Center. He cocked his head while reflecting, placed his left hand over his heart to express gratitude, shifted his shoulders before taking deep breaths and gently waved to admirers as if saying farewell to a good friend boarding a train. The singer-songwriter’s music also benefited from a similar simplicity, with nearly every one of the set’s 25 songs underscoring the importance of melody and pacing.
Of course, Diamond also enjoyed the advantages of drawing from one of the richest catalogs in pop. Yet his lasting appeal owes just as much to his supreme showmanship and obvious desire to address even the most familiar hits with the same enthusiasm he demonstrated during his commercial heyday in the 1970s. Now 74 and graced with a salt-and-pepper beard, the apparently ageless vocalist relished each moment of the 115-minute concert, and sang with tremendous clarity and purity that indicated his baritone range to be as fit as his lean physique.
What differs from Diamond’s sequin-speckled past is the approach. Instances of schmaltz and grandiosity remain, yet the Vegas-style extravagance and slickness have departed. Anchored by former Elvis Presley drummer Ron Tutt, a 14-piece band — complete with horns and two female backup vocalists — performed restrained arrangements that highlighted the New York native’s measured phrasing and tonal shading. Direct, and entirely free of irony, Diamond largely left his guitar untouched to concentrate on his vocal deliveries and endearing array of dance moves.
He proved equally persuasive on shout-a-long anthems (from the swaying “Forever In Blue Jeans” to the grand-scale gospel climaxes of “Holly Holy”) and saloon ballads (the drowning-in-the-blues sorrows of “Love on the Rocks”). Occasionally, Diamond slowed tempos to a crawl, substituting narration for singing while relaying autobiographical stories of his childhood (“Brooklyn Roads”) and, on mawkish recent fare such as “Nothing But a Heartache,” finding true love. When playing the role of hopeless romantic, he conveyed regret and loneliness with a balance of empathy and assertiveness, punctuating stately tunes like “If You Know What I Mean” with sighs and growls.
If the words didn’t say enough, Diamond’s body language drove the points across. He used his arms to embrace, guide and beckon, and his fingers to instruct, conduct and illustrate. During sing-a-longs of “Sweet Caroline” and “I’m a Believer,” he became the equivalent of a preacher presiding over a congregation at a megachurch. On the joyful “Beautiful Noise” and vibrant “Cherry, Cherry,” percussive rhythms spilled over into his swagger and singing. The fervent audience couldn’t get enough — and the vocalist knew it.
“I’d be torn to shreds,” said Diamond, explaining why he chose to refrain from venturing out into the crowd. Groupies after a septuagenarian? They’re believers.
Gendron is a Tribune freelance writer.
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