EDMONTON -- What is the point of having a million-dollar paintbrush if you're just painting poker playing dogs - by the numbers?
This criticism of Celine Dion, Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey and their ilk - plus every damned Canadian Idol contestant that ever warbled a Celine Dion, Whitney Houston or Mariah Carey song - was brought into sharper focus after seeing the incredible K.D. Lang do her thing at the Jubilee Auditorium last night. What a "thing" it is.
Her warmly-received if ill-attended homecoming after eight years away - longer if we're talking pop charts - powerfully illustrated the difference between singers who use songs to show off their voice and singers who use their voice to show off songs. It's a crucial distinction. K.D. Lang, if you know anything about K.D. Lang since she moved beyond being the cowpunk queen of the west, is firmly in the latter category. She's remarkable not only for her flawless technique, stunning emotional power and a magical stage presence, but because what she does is so rare.
Use an amazing voice to turn a three-minute tune into a transcendent emotional experience? How novel. And here we thought "songs" were secondary to the goal of being a great singer - showing off how great you are. How unusual that lang appears to have no interest in this whatsoever, sublimating ego in the cause of artistry. How quirky. And she's a lesbian, you say? A vegetarian, too? Bred in Alberta, eh? Pissed off the cattlemen, did she? Hmm. She's no Celine Dion, Jim. K.D. Lang is in fact the complete opposite of Celine Dion - night and frickin' day, as they say.
Lang seemed to approach each song as a great actress doing a role in a great movie, often steeling herself in intense concentration by the piano beforehand. The opener Don't Smoke in Bed was a sultry heartbreaker, full of woe and wounded pride. Roy Orbison's Crying caused a good deal of same, such was the impact of its sincere performance. Miss Chatelaine was a playful bit of burlesque complete with a little dance to lighten the mood. Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah - one of several tunes from her upcoming album, Hymns of the 49th Parallel, her "love letter" to Canadian songwriters - was a religious experience.
And so on. Not a note was wasted, not a mite of self-indulgence was detected, not an emotional nuance was out of place, lang as a 40-ish female buddha in bare feet and kimono pacing to and fro on a Persian carpet on the stage, beatific smile heavenward as she shared her gift with an adoring crowd. In years to come, she'll be remembered in the same breath as Ella Fitzgerald or Billie Holiday.
Yes, she's that good.
Sadly, a mere 1,600 folks turned up to witness K.D.'s homecoming - the crowd occupying that cozy nexus between symphony fans and K.D. Lang fans. It's a poignant comment on the music business that Celine Dion is exactly where she deserves to be - Las Vegas - while K.D. Lang seems right at home singing for a few old friends in an old theatre.
Lang did and could do no wrong, of course, earning a standing ovation just for showing up. The band was fairly flawless as well, including longtime accompanist Teddy Borowiecki on accordion and piano, Holly Cole's upright bassist David Piltch and the pillowy soft backing of the strings from the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra, dubbed the "Alberta Philharmonic." Here, too, there were no wasted notes or needless showboating. The arrangements were perfect without being too perfect.
After the first few numbers, as lang addressed the crowd, a lusty shout of "welcome home!" spoke for the lot of us.
"It's almost like I never left," the former Edmontonian said. "I see myself on every corner, so I'm still here in spirit, for sure."
Later, she told the crowd of a recent encounter with a grumpy parrot that bit her lip rather hard.
"I'm still a little numb," she said.
So are we. So are we.
JAM! Rating: 5 out of 5
