Gossip mongers: The good news is that Janet Jackson and Whitney Houston (pictured between Alicia Keys and Fergie) look fabulous. Carrie Underwood was on hand at Clive Davis's party at the Beverly Hilton Hotel Saturday with Chace Crawford of "Gossip Girl" and she looked rather disinterested in the evening, even waving off Clive's effusive introduction.
Fellow "Idol" moneymaker Chris Daughtry played the highly respectful guest, giving the standing O to every major celebrity announced. And at the next table, Randy Jackson was big on the cheers, too.
As far as the music went, though, the evening was not one of Davis' more legendary marathon events. Videotapes of past years' highlights were played regularly to remind attendees how the party has achieved its legendary status and even Davis suggested that the evening would not be setting a new bar. Still, there were enough highlights to make this a good, if not great, night of pop music.
Evaluations, in order of appearance:
Foo Fighters. Did two songs, "The Pretender" and "Best of You." Potent and hearty, it was exactly what one would expect from Dave Grohl and the boys. Nothing we haven't seen before.
Leona Lewis. The British "Pop Idol" champ did two songs, the second of which was "First Time Ever You Saw My Face." She has a big voice and tender personality, two trademarks of Whitney Houston in her early years. But what I didn't sense from Lewis that I did sense from Houston back then was the desire to be liked and welcomed into the music world. Lewis steps in gingerly, with a graciousness that should endear her to many. But is she a major pop star? Not sure. The album comes out in two months.
Daughtry with Chad Kroeger and Slash. First tune, by just Chris Daughtry and his band, was rote commercial rock; to spice things up, the "American Idol" contender and guests waddled through John Fogerty's "Born on the Bayou." Slash delivered standard-issue solos - enough to hold the interest but not necessarily amaze. Worse, Kroeger has a banal voice and Daughtry seems hell-bent on following in his footsteps.
Josh Groban and Andrea Bocelli. On paper, this sounds like a PBS nightmare. I have a fear of heights and this is the sappy musical equivalent of peering over the edge of the observation deck of the Empire State Building. Yet their performance of "The Prayer" worked. Not chill-inducing, but a pleasant interaction between two singers working with just piano and synth accompaniment. Both stayed within themselves and made it a delightful two-voice performance.
Fantasia. On Broadway, she stopped "The Color Purple" with "I'm Here" and she did it again Saturday night. Right performer, right song. And if the music industry is truly paying attention, they should realize that contemporary Broadway composers are creating interesting and dramatic material that can work for modern singers. In the digital download age, Broadway shows could be a great source of material and there are not enough A&R execs mining this increasingly rich territory.
Alicia Keys. Performs "Like You'll Never See Me Again" and "No One" after Davis gives her a lengthy introduction that suggests the label people were somehow surprised that her record would be great, sell vast quantities and should have somehow been in consideration for a Grammy. No, the J folks chose to release it in the 2008-09 eligibility period and just place the single in the 07-08 territory. Keys, as she has done at so many of Davis's parties, was spectacular. "No One" was the night's rousing highlight and there's no amount of praise that can be heaped on this woman that goes too far. She is simply the best.
Akon and Wyclef. Nice pairing and they dove into a little Bob Marley ("No Woman No Cry") and some political wordplay promoting Barack Obama and Clive Davis for president. The two sang about blood diamonds and romped through Akon's "I Wanna Love You" with grace and precision.
Davis always introduces members of the audience - he gave props to about 70 Saturday - and
the biggest cheers of the night went to Michael Strahan, Gladys Knight and Quincy Jones.
It would not surprise me if many people who went to their first concerts in the 1970s or earlier remember being taken aback the first time they saw a corporate sponsor on a bill. Case in point: the Who on their alleged final trek under the sponsorship banner of Schlitz. It was not the quality of the product that troubled music fans, it was the idea that an entity not in the business of concert promotion was now involved in a show, forcing its agenda, possibly stealth-like, and somehow tampering with the fans’ altruistic idea of the performer.
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