20031121
Pop
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Hammersmith Apollo, London
Caroline Sullivan
Monday November 17, 2003
The Guardian
Doing the Bardot - Kylie Minogue at the Hammersmith Apollo
Because it is accepted that Kylie Minogue makes the charts a brighter place, she enjoys exceptional critical leeway. Rarely taken to task over her voice (nothing a cigar habit and a couple of extra stone couldn't beef up) or her music (unexceptional apart from the singles), she embodies the concept of getting away with it.
In the spirit of giving something back, her live performances are always fantastic: Cameron Mackintosh couldn't stage a show with greater entertainment value than Kylie in full Persian-kitten pomp. This one-off was even a few degrees madder than usual. There is, after all, a new album, Body Language, to launch, and Britney Spears (whose CD is also out next week) to beat. We're told £1m went into it, and tickets were invitation only, heightening the sense of event.
It certainly looked expensive, incorporating Paris street scenes (in keeping with the Bardot-esque stripes and bouffy hair that accompanied her entrance), Matrix-like skeletal steel constructions and a very butch motorbike. And at its centre, Kylie, apparently in a constant state of sexual arousal. A cover of Je T'Aime started things as they meant to go on - arching her back, extending a provocative little paw to the front row, she gave the impression that it was only the presence of 12 dancers that was keeping her from peeling off her teeny costumes (four, over the course of an hour).
The music was, necessarily, almost an afterthought. The set was dominated by Body Language, which presented itself as a series of chilled-out ambles with not much in the way of tunes. The single Slow was the best - a writhing, slo-mo tease that was none the less eclipsed by the ones the crowd really wanted to hear. Hard, shiny versions of Can't Get You out of My Head, Spinning Around, It's in Your Eyes: these were what we were here for, and the sight of disco-pixie Kylie whizzing around was a reminder that absolutely nobody does pop with quite the same oomph.
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Kylie Minogue
Hammersmith Apollo, London
Caroline Sullivan
Monday November 17, 2003
The Guardian
Doing the Bardot - Kylie Minogue at the Hammersmith Apollo
Because it is accepted that Kylie Minogue makes the charts a brighter place, she enjoys exceptional critical leeway. Rarely taken to task over her voice (nothing a cigar habit and a couple of extra stone couldn't beef up) or her music (unexceptional apart from the singles), she embodies the concept of getting away with it.
In the spirit of giving something back, her live performances are always fantastic: Cameron Mackintosh couldn't stage a show with greater entertainment value than Kylie in full Persian-kitten pomp. This one-off was even a few degrees madder than usual. There is, after all, a new album, Body Language, to launch, and Britney Spears (whose CD is also out next week) to beat. We're told £1m went into it, and tickets were invitation only, heightening the sense of event.
It certainly looked expensive, incorporating Paris street scenes (in keeping with the Bardot-esque stripes and bouffy hair that accompanied her entrance), Matrix-like skeletal steel constructions and a very butch motorbike. And at its centre, Kylie, apparently in a constant state of sexual arousal. A cover of Je T'Aime started things as they meant to go on - arching her back, extending a provocative little paw to the front row, she gave the impression that it was only the presence of 12 dancers that was keeping her from peeling off her teeny costumes (four, over the course of an hour).
The music was, necessarily, almost an afterthought. The set was dominated by Body Language, which presented itself as a series of chilled-out ambles with not much in the way of tunes. The single Slow was the best - a writhing, slo-mo tease that was none the less eclipsed by the ones the crowd really wanted to hear. Hard, shiny versions of Can't Get You out of My Head, Spinning Around, It's in Your Eyes: these were what we were here for, and the sight of disco-pixie Kylie whizzing around was a reminder that absolutely nobody does pop with quite the same oomph.
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