February 23rd, 2012
ERYKAH BADU // SYDNEY OPERA HOUSE // SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19 // REVIEW BY ANDY BULL
It’s been a while since I’ve seen Erykah Badu play live. For years, I had lived and breathed her records – they were really formative for me – and I’d seen her play twice before in the States. Neo soul, though, is a dubious thing – as a genre it seems especially at risk of falling into cliche; for instance, I recently saw John Legend play a show that, to my mind, demonstrated why nu-soul is often considered extinct. Soul is a long way from punk, the “great leveller”, but with its tightly arranged rhythm sections, keyboard heavy arrangements, vocal chops and its requisite technical proficiency, it’s often at odds with the sort of “anyone can do it” aesthetic that drives our largely indie-rock industry. Folks are suspicious.
So. It’s been a couple of years, and I didn’t want to expect too much. Perhaps some nostalgic feelings. We are told that Erykah is running late, and I say something droll to my friend about waiting two hours for her last time I saw her – SXSW 2009 – but then, happily, Erykah arrives. I get that little electric pulse from seeing her so close again. Once in 2005, I shook her hand after this show in LA.

Tonight, she is Shiva and Shakti all at once. The band begins to play, she begins to sing, and in one divine motion she has obliterated soul music and has begun renaming its pieces. For those of you who have seen Feist play recently, this is probably the best comparison I can make. I had gone to see Feist, anticipating delicate beauty, and was exhilarated to discover instead Joan of Arc. Badu, who is an “artist” and who’s charisma must therefore lie between the promise of creation and the threat of collapse, is focused and raw. She has now so much more than just youthful conceits; the self-proclaimed “analog girl in a digital world”, who at age 41 looks suspiciously like she did at age 26, when she released her debut, Baduizm, has taken the nascent ideas of that first album, drawn and evolved them through five studio albums and a decade and a half of touring and into the present, maybe the future. The test has worked.
Sitting where I was, I could see the faces of the crowd and their expressions said it all. She’d mainlined our hearts. Crucially, she had the band to facilitate this. Soul gigs are notoriously over played and sometimes unwatchable for that reason (see one John Legend) but for the most part, restraint is shown and the band stay not just relevant, but powerful (some forgiveness is perhaps needed for the odd moment. There was *gulp* briefly, a 6-string bass on stage).
Erykah has, thankfully, apparently outgrown and outlived the scene which claimed her as its queen over a decade ago and much of the fat and flab has been cut away, replaced with something immensely tougher than what you might expect. Not to say the theatrics are gone however; thankfully the profound sense of occasion remains – we are not seeing a gig so much as an event, and though this event may have been created around the world countless times, the thrill and danger are undiminished. Even moments that might obviously rankle some critics are pure. Erykah sings a partial rendition of Lena Horne’s ‘Believe in Yourself’ to a floral piano arrangement and miraculously it comes across here not as twee, but on some unexpected level, moving; some hard won, old fashioned wisdom, resonating throughout the concert hall like a prayer. And every push in one direction is matched by a pull in the other. The show has dynamics and swagger, Badu’s trademark live 808 programming, the grinding on the mic stand, singing as she walks through the audience (by now all standing), the curious stage banter, blazing in-time-out-of-time hip hop interpretations of songs from across her entire catalogue; all of this demonstrates a standard of naturalness and awareness that are not easily matched. We are transfixed by a vulnerable girl, a ghetto lioness, a bewildered observer and a cosmic seer seamlessly integrated, and the effect on us, the audience, is extraordinary. The entire thing is like a blazing meteor, visceral, moving; tearing fearlessly into the new decade. Could soul be dangerous once more? Erykah, for the first time in a long time, made me want to believe again.