Tag Archives: Symphony Hall

Marc Almond at Symphony Hall, September 16th 2024

Marc Almond arrived on stage last night at Symphony Hall looking like an aged Mercedes McCambridge; bobbed hair, face powdered, frail but febrile. There’s a chair nearby, should he need it, which he will. But no matter, in a matter of minutes he’s charmed the audience with his explanation of his choice of songs, almost all covers, how they express his feelings and are meant to evoke his life. So the set is mainly the kind of songs a queen d’un certain age, and more than a little culture would choose. He starts by saying how much he loves Imitation of Life and valiantly attempts Mahalia Jackson’s version of ‘Trouble in the World’. Then it’s on to Cher (‘A Woman’s Story’); Eartha Kitt (‘The Heel’), Billy Holliday (‘Gloomy Sunday’). Some teen favourites: Bobby Darin’s ‘Dream Lover’; Elvis Presley, ‘One Night of Sin’; ‘We all love David Cassidy, don’t we? His version of ‘How Can I Be Sure?’ is the one we all like best’; a selection of Charles Aznavour songs (‘What Makes a Man’); Jacques Brel (‘Ne me quitte pas’); Leonard Cohen (‘Dance Me to the End of Love’); Bowie (‘The London Boys’), Marc Bolan (‘Children of the Revolution’). Dana Gillespie – a link with Bowie — appears on stage to duet with Almond on a lovely version of ‘Stardom Road’. Almond seems to get younger and more energetic as the set progresses. He alienates part of the audience (‘This is a song about bisexuality though I always say bi now, gay later); tells off the band for not being on pitch or on the beat and makes them restart songs twice; and I can’t hand-in-heart say any of his covers are better than the originals; and still… He wins the audience over with his honesty and his charm, the expressivity of his gestures and the power of his voice, even though that doesn’t always seem fully in control. He has the audience in the palm of his hand way before the first strains of ‘Tainted Love’ makes the whole audience go loco. It’s the first time I’ve seen him onstage and hope it won’t be the last. He’s expressed a whole generation’s queer ‘structure of feeling’ and made the audience feel in tune with it.

José Arroyo

Dionne Warwick at Symphony Hall, May 31st, 2022.

Dionne Warwick is 81, and since I suspected this might be the last time I’ll see her on stage I splurged on great seats. She looked fantastic, hair all white, the cheekbones still sculpting the face as sharply as ever. But she could barely walk across the stage, and one could feel the effort it cost her to do so on her own. She had an operation on her leg a month ago and did the concert sitting down on a stool. She asked for it to be changed, which it wasn’t, and one could see her occasionally wince in pain. The voice is not what it was. She sang everything in a low register whilst still giving the impression that she marked all the key changes and note shifts on all her famous Bacharach-David songs: The enunciation remained supreme; the tone of the voice unique. But its power, precision, and versatility is gone: her voice is not the extraordinary instrument it was. Still it was a very moving evening. The audience was with her all the way, sang with her, occasionally *for* her. It seemed an extraordinary ritual; her pain, her extraordinary showmanship and control of the audience, touching this mass of people still and transmuting it all through that fantastic songbook into love, verbally expressed, and loudly. At the end, she said, ‘farewells aren’t fair and goodbyes aren’t good’ as she painfully hobbled off stage to waves and waves of applause, the audience on its feet and visibly moved. I was glad to be part of it.

José Arroyo