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ALICIA KEYS
Everybody’s Girl


"We’ve got so much to talk about tonight," exclaimed Alicia Keys two songs into her set at the Orpheum last Friday night, "But don’t worry, I’m not going nowhere, we’ve got plenty of time." And with that simple aside, the 21-year-old singer established the casual, sisterly, I’m-just-another-girl-from-around-the-way mood for the evening. Keys may be an easy-on-the-eyes soul prodigy with a quadruple platinum album (2001’s Songs in A Minor) under her belt, six Grammy nominations, and Clive Davis’s new J Records label in her corner, but she knows just how you feel. "I’m talking to my family here," she said at one point, and the crowed roared in response.

Performing on a stage set that replicated a New York City block — complete with rusty fire escapes and stoops to sit on — and flanked by a flashy 13-piece band, Keys emphasized her unpretentious everygirl attitude at every turn. The low-key asides, cute vignettes, and heart-baring stage patter might have felt contrived from another performer. But this R&B singer seemed so disarmingly honest, so genuinely thankful, and so completely overjoyed to be on stage, it was hard not to fall for her. Singing about love, self-reflection, and personal liberation, Keys embodied the mix of street-smart attitude and little-girl idealism that’s made her an icon for the female half of the hip-hop generation. Which would explain the number of Alicia wanna-bes in the audience — braids and braces seemed to be the look of the night — and the vigorous singing along on almost every tune.

When Keys focused on that connection with the audience, she was a resounding success. Her stunning cover of Prince’s "How Come You Don’t Call Me" was stretched into a lengthy gospel-style call-and-response vamp; a medley of solo piano ballads had a jazz-like fluidity; and her R-E-S-P-E-C-T manifesto, "A Woman’s Worth," was neo-trad soul at its best. But Keys’s ambitions as an entertainer occasionally got in the way of her instincts as a musician. The graceful and understated arrangements of her album were gussied up with slick fusion flourishes that dwarfed the vocals. Plus, the 100-minute set was bogged down by Vegas-style theatrics that turned the evening into some sort of high-budget talent show. Note to Alicia: get rid of the pint-sized, foul-mouthed sidekick (imagine a black Joe C.), the poorly choreographed dancers, the comedic skits, the costume changes, and the classical-piano shtick. You are entertainment enough.

BY MICHAEL ENDELMAN

Issue Date: January 31 - February 7, 2002
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