Concert review: Like Aretha and Tina, Alicia Keys puts on old-fashioned R&B revue

Concert Review |

Alicia Keys is an R&B singer in the classic sense. Like Aretha Franklin, she's a singer-pianist with jazz and church roots who knows how to wail. Like Tina Turner, her songs tell torchy stories in word, song and body movement. Like Diana Ross, she blends pop and rock with the Motown Sound. And, like Whitney Houston (at least in her younger days), she's a knockout.

Her show Saturday night at WaMu Theater was like an old-fashioned R&B revue, with a top-notch seven-piece band, including a drummer, percussionist, rock guitarist and horn-and-flute section. Three soulful backup singers — two women and a man — contributed to all the songs and were featured in duets and trios with Keys.

A black Yamaha grand piano sat on a revolving platform in the middle of the stage, with small electronic keyboards at each end, and Keys was impressive on all of them. The long, classical music-influenced intro to "Fallin' " (a song that quoted James Brown's "It's A Man's, Man's, Man's World") was sublime, her Latin licks on "Karma" were a kick, and her electronic-keyboard accents on "A Woman's Worth" added to the song's sass.

Keys also spent a lot of time at the microphone, working the front of the stage in a pair of tight-fitting, high-waisted, white toreador pants and a clingy, spangly top with a colorful butterfly design. She was remarkably fresh-looking, with a youthful complexion, bright, shiny eyes and a mass of hair she liked to toss around.

The centerpiece of the 15-song set was an extended version of "How Come You Don't Call Me" with Keys talking and joshing with the crowd, introducing and featuring each band member, and wrenching every ounce of drama from the lyrics.

That was followed by "Superwoman," which went over especially well with the many ladies in the crowd. The big, closing number was her biggest hit, the dramatic "No One," which had everyone on their feet.

Keys is a gifted, natural talent with a flair for performance. But her lyrics depend too much on cliches — she actually sang a song called "Heartburn" and it wasn't about acid indigestion — and the arrrangements can be too slick. She still has a lot of growing to do.

Patrick MacDonald: 206-464-2312, pmacdonald@seattletimes.com