I was one of a few honored guests invited by a person who received these tickets as a gift. We all felt lucky and grateful, and more than a little guilty too.
The stage’s three jumbotron screens first broadcast Chloe and Halle--young musicians signed to Beyoncé’s Parkwood Entertainment label. The duo stayed in place onstage, not venturing out onto the pair of arm-like catwalks that reached into the general admission pit.
The thrust's symmetry, with those long catwalks leading up to the main stage and the bright screen reminded me of Mayan or Aztec pyramids where religious ceremonies were conducted in front of the masses.
Some 20 minutes after Chloe and Kalle left the stage, the screens played footage with the tagline, “We the best music,” announcing DJ Khaled as the next opener. I’m no admirer of DJ Khaled, nor his music. He tottered around stage right, singing less than a minute of each song, before ordering the DJ: “Anotha one!” each new beat garnering no stronger audience applause.
A handful of rappers--ASAP Ferg, the highlight-- dueted with him. The best part by far was seeing his son toddle on stage, and be scooped up by his father. Though I give him no credit as a husband, I will acknowledge DJ Khaled as a father.
Once he left the stage, the screens displayed the On The Run initials in a bold sans-serif font which cut the negative space with such satisfying precision, that I was practically foaming at the mouth.
The letters’ blackness receded with the darkness between the screens, rendering them like a deep space, from which I half expected the stars to emerge.
Instead, a short man flocked by two uniformed cops took the stage, and to our dismay announced a severe storm due over us in 20 minutes. Giving us precise instructions, we were ushered inside. I again felt lucky and grateful to be seated in the Toyota lounge area, with its nice furniture and carpet. I napped on the floor as everyone else spiked the profits of the concession stands.
The storm lasted forty minutes, then we were allowed back to our seats, where we waited another half hour. At 11:08 the lights went out and the screens blackened. The screens, now converged into a panoramic, showing dramatic slogans and footage Beyoncé and Jay Z in grainy or colorful filters.
As the opening notes of “Holy Grail,” played, the screens parted, revealing Beyoncé and Jay Z at the top of the gap. Clad in pearly white, they held hands, as their elevator platform descended and Beyoncé sang the intro. I was one of the thousands swooning at their angelic entrance, and their lightning-strike stage presence.
For over two hours they swept through songs, often pairing up for a number or two before ceding the stage to their partner. Then the other would reappear--in a new outfit, of course--to re-dominate the arena. As a couple, they did their best on “Drunk in Love”, “Young Forever,” and “Crazy in Love.”
Behind the screens stood a grid of platforms, 4 by 4; those cells held the raucous, red-clad backing band. The swaying horn section shined brightest on “Halo” and “Upgrade.” The string quartet did as well, backing “Song Cry,” among others. From what I could see via the jumbotron, most of these musicians are women of color.
Every half hour or so, the stage would darken, and the closed screens showed footage of the couple and their children in paradise locations, in beautifully designed sets, or running. I found myself unresponsive to the pastiche of action flicks, art-house films, and music videos. The grainy or colorful filters absorbed but did not improve an Urban Outfitters aesthetic, which The Carters are so clearly above.
While the footage interludes helped pace the show--giving us breathing time from a concert that continually took breath away--it seemed inserted to help execute other technical feats. As Beyonce taught us the meaning of “Haya” for her feature on “Family Feud,”the front-center portion of the stage lifted up and rolled forward over the GA pit, using the catwalks as runners.
A few times, the end of far ends of the catwalks elevated, rendering Beyoncé or Jay Z, preachers atop a pulpit.
A few times, the screens parted to show a single dancer, as the backing track or band built up before a verse. These features were the strongest visual aspect. The best dancer, was a woman who performed her routine on a conveyor belt. The pair of continuous motions created a mesmerizing tension, which segued perfectly into Beyoncé’s “Resentment.” Beyoncé took her time to reach the edge of the other catwalk, letting us take her in, in her gorgeously flowing yellow-orange gown. She drew out each note, riffing tastefully, letting us savor each moment of melody. It was one of the show’s peak moments.
Beyoncé and her ensemble of backup dancers place second as the most compelling performance component. Her pristine choreographic execution improved as the set went on; the audience could feel her pour more of herself into each sharp move. The women around her accented her prowess, which could not be outshined.
While Jay Z lit the house up with “N*ggas in Paris,” “99 Problems,” and “Public Service Announcement,” there’s a reason I can’t write about him as much as his partner. Unlike Beyoncé, the quality of his output has declined over the years; even with his undeniable charisma, and his many outfit changes (several more than his wife), his stage presence did not measure up. He was at his best when he shared the stage.
This was Beyoncé’s show, and they both knew it. All the same, their celebration and their centralisation of love, in all its complexity, was the show’s greatest power. Their chemistry and warmth onstage radiated out the audience, and embraced us all. And as an audience we needed it. We had been rained on, then threatened with cancellation. Yet they did not let the weather compromise their set. It was past one o’clock when they concluded with “APESHIT” and brought the clearly exhausted crowd to their feet once again.
The concert in each of its resplendent details, and our effort to enjoy it despite setbacks, was a labor of love. Last night we were graced by a power couple: Beyoncé zapped raw electricity and burnt with the restraint of a pristine lithium battery. Her husband and everyone else served as amplifying circuitry.