Recently by Jayne Haugen Olson

Wow. I haven’t danced that long in years. If the first thing that comes to mind when you think of George Michael is Wham!, then please stop reading this. You’re not in the club. Like the other nearly 8,000 people in attendance at the X last night, I waited a very long time for this concert. Seeing George makes seeing my favorite '80s/'90s pop stars list complete.

In all of the post-concert love feast, I think most of us chose to forget that even though the ticket clearly stated **No Opening Act** Show Begins at 8 p.m. Prompt, George didn’t take the stage until 8:40. Our usher had a staff memo with her instructions for the evening, which clearly stated that George Michael was not expected to take the stage until approximately 8:45. Huh.

Anyway, back to the love. Our face value $175 tickets were worth it. Just two sections over from the stage (section 119), our front-row perches proved to be an ideal spot to dance our asses off. I haven’t sweat that hard dancing since, oh, perhaps the Pacific Club circa 1990. George got us on our feet within minutes with “Fast Love”, and with the exception of a song or two, we never sat down.

The staging was fabulous. The design kept all eyes on the man of the hour (or in this case, nearly two). The band was spread out among four tiers of theater-style scaffolding (think Fosse-inspired Paula Abdul “Cold Hearted” video), so the stage was George’s oyster. The video wall behind him proved to be a dynamic addition of light shows, clips of GM videos, disco-inspired graphics, and images of pop-culture icons, particularly during “Spinning the Wheel”. (Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier, Sinatra, John Lennon, Elvis, the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, and, go figure, an image of President Clinton and Monica Lewinsky.)

The crowd seemed more heterosexual than I imagined it would be, which made me wonder whether the modern-day metrosexual might have its roots in the “Father Figure”-era. Everyone sang along, gay or straight. And speaking of singing: In my book, George Michael’s pipes can hold their own alongside the great Elvis Presley. Add the perfect GM dance moves and swinging hips, and hey, it’s not a stretch to compare. George is one guy whom I would never criticize for covering a song. Last night, we were treated to “Roxanne” against a video of real women in Amsterdam’s Red Light District. The song took on a more melancholy feel than the Police original, so much so that it didn’t feel like a cover—it felt more like an editorial.

George Michael as a performer morphed easily before our eyes from dance mix diva (“Spinning the Wheel”) to night club crooner (“Kissing a Fool”) to pop culture icon (“Too Funky” and “Outside”)—complete with a policeman’s uniform.

My personal highlight? When my newfound pal, usher Dawn, let me slip by her, and I rushed to the main floor for a front-row view of George during the final song of the night, “Freedom ’90”. My face hurt from my ear-to-ear grin. George thanked us all “for our support over twenty-five years” and our “warm welcome.” He called it a “humbling experience” and promised to give us the “night of our lives.”

He did.

Bonus: click on the links above to watch George Michael videos.

Read Jayne Haugen Olson’s Style Parlor blog on July 9 for more photos and more details on who was in the audience and what they were wearing.

Photos courtesy of Jayne Haugen Olson and Carol Garrigos.

When the announcement came some weeks ago that Annie Lennox was playing the State, I took pause. This was a show I would not miss. I had the distinct pleasure of seeing her open for Sting a few years ago at Target Center. Even Sting acted as if the billing should have been reversed. The truth was, we had paid for good seats that night to see Annie. We knew what a rare opportunity it was to see her in Minneapolis. That show will go down in my musical history books as one of my favorite performances.

Last night’s show was a different experience. The first show was a surprise. I didn’t expect her to grab my very soul the way she did. I also wasn’t sure if everyone else in the Target Center realized how special that night was—until the crowd went absolutely crazy at the end of her set.

Last night’s performance wasn’t the same. But it was lovely, engaging, and memorable nonetheless. Yes, this was a much more intimate venue. (Even Annie spoke of the beautiful venue and intimate setting.) And this time I was confident everyone there knew exactly why they were there. Before I talk about Annie, I feel compelled to talk about the audience. As one gay man I spoke to said, “I expected adult contemporary. Who knew it would be every homo in town?” Even before hearing his comment I had written in my notebook “Bohemian. Artsy. Over 40. Gay.”  If you fall into one of these camps, you were probably at the show. (I should have added "Wear glasses.")

When we walked into the State the air was filled with the smell of incense. It reminded my husband and I of a Brian Ferry concert nearly twenty years ago at Northrop. We made way to our seats in the eleventh row, center stage. Annie and her band (two keyboards, a bass, drums, guitar, and two backup singers) immediately had us on our feet with “No More 'I Love You's' ” followed by “Little Bird” and “Walking on Broken Glass.” She jumped into the big hits a little too soon for me. Starting with songs that are so etched in my brain with the production behind them from her albums Diva and Medusa took some adjusting on my part.

Annie was front and center, dressed in a black, shift mini-dress with a graphic pattern of black sequins, over black denims, and low-heeled black boots. She was cool, confident, and casual, striking her theatrical poses and moving her arms in a style more modern dance than pop. Pure Annie. Behind her, a large screen played vintage Annie Lennox videos complete with all of the theatrics, drama, costumes, and makeup we’ve seen on MTV and VH1. The Diva was definitely in the house—and her audience was hanging on every note her beautiful, soulful, pure voice projected.

Annie seemed to soak up our adoration, telling us that this is the kind of audience they enjoy playing for. The first part of the seventeen-song set was the full band, followed by three Eurythmics songs performed by just Annie and her piano. She started with “Here Comes the Rain” that she led in with a commentary on our current Minneapolis weather. She followed that with “A Thousand Beautiful Things,” and the popular chic anthem “Sisters Are Doing It for Themselves.”

The band joined her again and she prompted us to all stand, though many of us had been on our feet often already. Perhaps because she knew we would no doubt be on our toes with “Sweet Dreams,” complete with Eurythmics video. (Hello, Dave Stewart, how ya been?)

Another unexpected (or should it have been?) moment was Annie’s PSA for HIV. Statistics, video, and video commentary from Annie about the troubles in Africa was followed by Annie coming to the stage to perform “Sing” (from her new album, Songs of Mass Destruction) and to talk about her recent trips to Africa and how deeply they've affected her. I felt like I was back in the eighties and the genuine concern that artists of her time were pleading from stages at that time. This audience was her audience for her music—and message.

She closed with “Why” her mega hit from Diva. Reminding us, not that she needed to, why we were all there.

After I came down from my high from seeing Prince at Macy’s, at 8:30 we headed over to Target Center. We were confident he wouldn’t take the stage at the published 8:30 start, but you can’t imagine the scene we encountered as we walked down 6th Street. First Avenue was closed off—and nearing 9 p.m. the doors to Target Center hadn’t yet opened. All I could do was laugh. It reminded us of a similar scene in downtown St. Paul years ago when Prince also kept the fans at bay. Only Prince can get away with this in his hometown.

The music finally started at 10 with the song Macy’s originally asked him to play at their place—"Purple Rain." What often becomes an encore song was his out-of-the-gate hit. I looked at my husband halfway through the song when I realized that's Wendy. There is no mistaking that stance, those guitar moves. Even in the shadows, Wendy Melvoin was at his side. Wow, first Sheila E. at Macy’s, now Wendy Melvoin at Target Center. Could there be a Revolution in the air?

Prince went on to lead the band through "Take Me With You," followed by the new "Guitar" (which I can’t get out of my head today). By 10:30, Prince told the crowd to "Call the babysitter, 'cause it’s gonna be a long night." (Thankfully, we had already arranged for our sitter to spend the night.)

The next hour and a half was filled with what I didn’t expect—pop hits from the past and, as Prince said, he got “old school, y’all.” We got some of my favorites: "7," "Do Me Baby," and "I Wanna Be Your Lover" (pretty much Prince solo on the keyboard), "If I Was Your Girlfriend," "Nothing Compares 2 U," and (OK, I could go home right now) "Sometimes It Snows in April." His acoustic set with Wendy ("Little Red Corvette," "Raspberry Beret") was like a gift.

Though I enjoyed the trip down memory lane, I missed not hearing more from Musicology and 3121—there's some kickass music on those two albums. Some complained that he didn’t give us the whole song when he played many of his hits—I quickly reminded them that Prince had once vowed on one of his tours that it was the last time he would perform his hits. I wonder if by playing only portions of them he is keeping his word.

It was a great show, but I do miss those days when Prince danced, shimmied, and gave us that signature funky footwork. That was another era that is still a part of the aura that fills the arena, though he commands the stage in a new way these days. (Those phenomenal dancing twin sisters help fill the gap of crazy moves that we no longer get from his majesty.) There is something at peace about him. He doesn’t have anything to prove. The music and legacy speak for themselves. And for fans like me, whose Prince concert stubs have climbed into the double digits, we know what we have experienced, and that this is the Prince of today.

Sheila E. eventually joined the stage for the final leg of the show. There is a history with those two that is unmatched. Her moxie and stage presence make her the perfect princess to our Prince. There aren’t many that can tell Prince “now we’re in my house” and get away with it. She also knows exactly how to work the crowd and get them going in that old-time Revolution way (think Sign O’ the Times—Live). That he ended his show with Sheila belting out "Glamorous Life" and then a get-the-funk-out solo was perhaps Prince telling us something about his respect for her. The stage went dark . . . there was a moment of anticipation . . . and then the house lights went on. We all knew he was already on his way across the street for his historical return to First Avenue. It was after midnight, and Prince’s night was likely just getting started.

My Ultimate Prince Xperience began near the front of the media line at Macy’s. The crowd was surprisingly mellow. I imagined more Prince chatter from this bunch. But then it dawned on me—these folks have all been in line with each other for hours. And they also shared a line about a month ago when they gathered to get the Prince package in the first place. As usual, the true Prince fans—especially the females—always dress for the occasion. I guess I fall into the same camp. I wouldn’t think of wearing jeans to see his highness. C’mon, this is a dapper guy. A man of musical style and high style. He’s graced the cover of Esquire. He’s appeared in a Versace print campaign. He is Couture with a capital C. I saw one woman who either made, or had made, a black dress with purple trim, cut so low in the back that it revealed the famous Prince glyph at the base of her spine.

Prince took the Macy’s stage an hour late. Again, no surprise. The PA system kept us on our toes with a variety of Prince and eighties music, including a little Michael Jackson. I couldn’t help but think, And Michael thought he was the king of pop. I guess Prince has shown who had the staying power.

We took our spot just a person or two from the stage. I had eyed that telltale Sheila E. drum kit instantly and navigated my position at this standing-room-only event. Lately Prince has been more apt to turn his stage over to other musicians, so it wasn't too surprising when the Macy’s gig started out with a killer three-piece horn section filling the eighth floor auditorium with “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Then the smoking-hot Sheila E. came to the stage in a shimmering gold minidress reminiscent of J-Lo (frankly, I find Sheila more intriguing). Watching her obliterate the drums—standing in three-inch heels—is a rite of passage. I have seen her many times, including at Glamorama a few years ago, and she always blows the crowd away.

So the question was, What seven songs would Prince play? I had two guesses on what he would start with. He started with one of them ("3121") and ended with the other ("Let’s Go Crazy"). When he gave a shout out to Minneapolis, I couldn't help but glow. People around the world know of this place, Minneapolis, because of hearing Prince belt it out in songs over the years. To his international fans there is a mystical place called Paisley Park in a mystical land called Minneapolis. Kind of cracks me up. The lineup continued with "Girls and Boys" (from Parade), Sheila’s "A Love Bizarre" (Prince sang backup on the original 1985 song), "Get on the Boat" (3121), back at Sheila E. with "Glamorous Life" (from the album of the same name), "Take Me With You" (Purple Rain), and the super gnarly "Guitar" (from his forthcoming album). He then turned the spotlight onto one of his backup singers, who cranked out a rendition of Gnarls Barkley’s "Crazy." Followed, of course, by Purple Rain's "Let’s Go Crazy."

Prince looked perfectly coifed—as always. Precision-cut white suit, black shirt, major bling cufflinks, and a black and white ascot. Oh, and white, heeled boots. Not as high as back in the day, but pimp nonetheless.

We left Macy’s on a major high. I think that was my fourteenth time seeing him live. The third being that close. I don’t feel so bad now that I haven’t made the trek to Vegas to see him. The auditorium show was very special, and the crowd was a Minneapolis who’s who. I gave a nod to the mayor—I’m sure RT has seen Prince at First Avenue. And I wish I could have been in Myron Johnson’s head as the Ballet of Dolls creative director and choreographer watched the twin sister backup dancers. I can’t even explain the moves and grooves these sisters throw out. As well as the hundreds of other fans who I knew were backed-up behind me basking in the purple reign.

The Police at Xcel last night will be one of those shows that I talk about for years. Was it the best concert of my life? No. But there was something about seeing Andy Summers, Stewart Copeland, and Sting playing live all of that incredible music that brought full circle the impact of The Police on my life and the past thirty years of popular culture.

We literally were running in the doors of the X when they took the stage. I yelled to my husband who was still a half a block away, “We’re missing 'Message in a Bottle!' ” Our foursome took our $227-a-piece seats—or shall I say we took our spots, since we never sat down the entire show. Next came "Synchronicity," followed by back-to-back-to back hit after hit after hit. I had forgotten how many hits that band had. (Hey, a lot of years of passed since those chart-topping days.) Each time I thought, What else is there for them to play? they come at us with "Can’t Stand Losing You," or "King of Pain," or "De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da."

I heard the guy next to me say that he wished they’d throw in a B-side. There was only a moment or two that I thought the song I was hearing didn’t meet the expectation of how I know the song to sound. "Don’t Stand So Close to Me" was one of those. But I was there as a fan, not a music critic. I was wrapped in the memories of those songs and when they first entered my life. I had flashbacks of the kids in my high school that were into The Police. I was in high school from 1979 to 1982. To me, The Police were punk. The kids who were a bit more on the fringe were listening to that music. But it was around me. At parties. I eventually became a fan of New Wave music. That’s the thing about The Police—they not only launched their music, their sound, into our pop culture—The Police launched Sting. I’ve seen Sting twice before. I’ve always loved his sound. That voice. But he can come across as pretty cocky. I appreciated last night that it wasn’t about Sting. It wasn’t a Sting concert—it was a Police concert. The stage was pretty stripped down. The power trio was the focal point. Stewart Copeland is a legendary egomaniac. It didn’t show, and frankly I don’t care. When I watched him in such control of the percussion, that signature sound, I was mesmerized. Andy Summers is one of those steady rock and roll guitar players that pretty much stands there and does his thing. He knows most eyes are on that bass-playing vocalist.

Which of course bring me to Sting. I’m a chick, so I’m gonna go there. Sting is hot. He is so f-ing cool, I can’t stand it. I’ll restrain myself from going on and on about that fitted shirt. That toned body. Those military-style pants tucked into his combat boots. He is a rock star. (We did get a chuckle that Sting introduced Andy and Stewart, but no one introduced Sting. Apparently, the man needs no introduction.)

I rocked out so hard that I dropped $80 on a Police concert T-shirt. But it was worth it. These guys are rock and roll legends.

I don’t know how I almost missed that Lindsey Buckingham was in town this weekend. My husband informed me on Thursday that he and another Buckinghamophile friend of his were planning hitting the Saturday night show at the Pantages. I felt a thump in my stomach. I couldn’t miss this show. Thankfully, the guys were eyeing some sixth-row seats through Tickets Now and there were three available. I was in.

First let’s talk venue. The Pantages is fabulous. At about 1,000 seats, it’s truly intimate. Plus, with a full liquor license and treat-you-like-adults mentality, you can bring your drink into the theater. Nice. Our trio was directly in front of Mr. Buckingham and his trio, and two rows in front of his beautiful (much younger) wife and their two tweener-age children. How did we know it was her? Hmmm. The rock star–looking wife walked to her seat from the front of the house with two young children, and upon taking their seats, all three inserted earplugs.

LB took to the stage solo about twenty minutes after the official 7:30 curtain call. The crowd responded with admiration—but at a level you would expect from a roughly thirty-five-to-fifty-five-year-old crowd that looked like KQ meets Cities97. Buckingham was hip and laid back. An aging boomer, he was confident, yet casual, donned in no-name jeans, black boots, loose-fitting black V-neck T-shirt (untucked), black leather jacket (slightly oversized), a simple silver chain with small pendant, and a wedding ring. This was definitely not an arena show. He picked up one of his signature custom guitars, stepped to the mike, and broke out into "Not Too Late," the first song from his new CD, Under the Skin, that was released last fall. His first solo work since Out of the Cradle, about fifteen years ago. (He said he’s working on another CD as well.)

Here’s the thing about Lindsey Buckingham: If you think it’s all about Rumours and Fleetwood Mac, you’ve missed the artistry of this man and his talents. The Fleetwood Mac we all know and love, though a sum of the parts, is deeply rooted in what Lindsey Buckingham brought to the table. He’s responsible for the FM sound. That voice is so embedded in our culture. A voice with such power that the Pantages could barely hold it. Add to that an amazing control of a guitar—my cohorts that evening likened LB’s five-finger playing style to that of Mark Knopfler’s—and an equally distinctive sound that’s as signature as that iconic voice. For me, one doesn’t exist without the other. I leaned to my husband toward the end of that first song and said, "I think I’m going to weep." I felt that way several times throughout the show. We all agreed, that voice is a weapon.

I neglected to bring a notebook and pen—so the order of things doesn’t play into my report. What did he play? Several from his new CD, which is greatly influenced by his life today, and that he spoke about onstage. Since the big Fleetwood Mac reunion tour, Buckingham has become a husband for the first time and father to three children. The emotion he has always brought to his music is that much more evident with these life-changing events. For me, the live experience was enhanced knowing that his wife and two (of his three) children were behind us. I felt the love. Really. (At the end of the show his wife and kids were already backstage. Buckingham played a solo song and as he approached the back of the stage, his son ran out and jumped into his arms. Killer.)

The pace of the show was perfect. This is a guy who knows how to work an audience. He’s mastered it at a much bigger level. A group of our size—peanuts. He wove enough Fleetwood Mac—"Monday Morning," "Never Going Back Again," "Go Your Own Way"—to keep all of us singing along. And when they launched into "Tusk" we were pretty much on our feet until the end of the show. I swear you could hear Christine McVie on "World Turning," though she obviously wasn’t there.

This was the kind of experience that you would see on VH1 and say “God, I wish I could see someone like that in a venue like that.” I’m confident it will remain on my top ten list of live shows forever.

In the element of full disclosure, I am not a music critic. But I have seen more live shows than I can count—many of them music legends. So it is with great pride that I add Ms. Barbra Streisand to the list. Up until last night I probably would have just called her Babs, but no more. She deserves my respect.

I counted myself a fan last night. I applauded loudly, stood with the crowd, and cheered on a number of occasions, even giving her a few of my concert–style hoots. There is no one like Streisand: a voice that is a true gift and great talent. A style all her own. That face. That hair. Those (most likely) Donna Karan all-black ensembles.

She held court last night with a full orchestra and at times sang with Il Divo (more on that on my blog). Many of the songs were very familiar, others not, at least to me. But it didn’t matter. That voice and her Barbra-ness had me in the palm of her hand for a couple of hours.

Here are a couple of my observations and insights:

+ She used a TelePrompTer for the full show. It was huge and hanging from the center of the X. Only a small portion of the guests would have noticed because of the placement. Even her anecdotes about songs—which were a highlight—were scripted. Hey, remember, she’s an award-winning actor, too.

+ She played a little song on the piano, which she said was the first song she wrote (at about the age twenty-two) for her album Je M’appelle Barbra. I’m pretty sure that piece was the same one she (or was it Kris Kristofferson?) played on the piano in one of the scenes in their giant LA mansion in A Star is Born. True fans would know.

+ As a fairly new mom, I got a tear in my eye when she sang "Children Will Listen." Here are the lyrics. 

+ I ran into a friend who was there as a chair-filler. You know how they have people who sit in the places of stars at the Academy Awards when, say, Nicole Kidman needs to powder her nose and they don’t want to show an empty seat? Same at the Streisand shows. Ms. Barbra doesn’t like any empty seats. So a team of volunteers jumped from chair to chair last evening to keep the seats packed. I was told this was the first time a performer has made this request in the Twin Cities. Hey, it’s also the first time Streisand has performed in the Twin Cities.