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George Michael @ Air Canada Centre, July 17

Nothing careless about UK pop star's tour-de-force

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BY Dave Morris   July 18, 2008 14:07

Editorial Rating:

Even if George Michael is an underachiever by other ‘80s superstars’ workaholic standards, there’s a difference between slacking off and picking your battles. Releasing his Twenty-Five greatest hits album and launching an accompanying world tour gave us the opportunity to see all the things he had done right in his career. Thursday night’s Air Canada Centre concert was packed with hits that have aged far better than pundits predicted, and Michael kept the crowd in his thrall the entire time. Tabloid headlines to the contrary, he knows what he’s doing.

It wasn’t a huge surprise when, in a series of minor run-ins with the law in 2006, Michael was outed as a pothead. It explains a lot — his long stretches of inactivity between projects, his ever-present sunglasses and the slight jowliness submerging that iconic face’s formerly Adonis-like sharp features (the munchies, like middle age, are without mercy). Age and lifestyle may have taken both his washboard stomach and the uppermost ends of his vocal range — on hits like Wham!’s “Everything She Wants,” Michael let the crowd sing the really high bits — but his voice still has that boyish, velvety grain, and he’s retained his impeccable control over his phrasing and a hint of bite when he wants to use it. Opening with an offstage “Waiting” while the three elaborate videoscreens, one of which sloped down onto the stage and on which Michael spent most of the show walking, he entered through hidden doors in the screen to “Fastlove,” hanging off the notes like a man in love with the sound of his own voice — but then, so were we.

Whether you think he’s an underrated practitioner of blue-eyed soul or a boy band puppet, you can’t argue with the sheer visceral pleasure of listening to him soar his way up into the chorus of “Father Figure” or navigating the mood swings in “Kissing A Fool.” He doesn’t go in for mountains of melisma or worse, soul-boy shouting, inviting you instead to soak up his voice’s sheer smoothness, sustained like the gleam that runs the length of a Cadillac. His pipes were in better shape than the rest of his body, but his wry self-deprecation was better than either, insisting “I know I have’t made it easy to be a George Michael fan” before launching into a gospel-ized reworking of “One More Try” that was an improvement on the dated sound of the original.

(In fact, his band were a true joy to listen to, not least because they perfectly balanced reinventing the songs while maintaining the sonic elements — drum sounds, synthesizer patches — that keep these songs rooted in their era. Not once did the songs fall prey to Las Vegas-tiki-lounge syndrome, with even Wham!’s “I’m Your Man” sounding almost contemporary.)

Through two sets and two encores, Michael drove home why he has so many devoted fans, even if it’s been 17 years since his last North American tour. He’s about ten times more genial and likable than Prince or Madonna, and a much better singer than either. For all of his protestations against the industry following his promo juggernaut for Faith, he’s not really a maverick, delivering a string of disco- and house-inflected singles (“Amazing,” “Too Funky,” “Outside”) while eschewing complicated choreography in favour of working the crowd by shaking his ass. But he did deliver mild shocks as the show went on, with a saucy video starring a barely-covered Dita Von Teese for “Feeling Good” and another with girls from Amsterdam’s red light district for a jazzy cover of “Roxanne,” which, sadly, the crowd of straight-laced ladies didn’t seem to much appreciate.

But a two-hour-plus George Michael show that covers a swath of his career, climaxes with two encores and includes “Careless Whisper” (cleverly done as a duet with the audience) and ending on “Freedom” (whose rainbow-coloured visuals rammed home both the song’s economic and pride-ful implications) is the pop-fluff equivalent of the Leafs beating the Habs in a Game 7 overtime, and the crowd rang the hockey hall’s walls with screams that were roughly on par with how that would sound. When Michael retreats to his den with the big screen TV and the bong for another 17 years, he won’t have to worry about his legacy. It’s assured.

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