Lady Gaga: Las Vegas
Lady Gaga went through a series of costume changes during her show Thursday at The Pearl.
Lady Gaga balances grace with bawdiness
By JASON BRACELIN
LAS VEGAS REVIEW-JOURNAL
If she ever had to walk in Dorothy’s ruby red shoes, she’d never want to peek behind any of Oz’s curtains.
Lady Gaga’s mission: to put the “art” in “artifice,” the “super” in “superficial.
In this context, appearance isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.
“We are nothing without our image, without projection,” Gaga announced as part of a pretaped video montage projected onto the towering video screens that bookended the stage during a sold-out show Thursday at The Pearl at the Palms.
This was the first of two nights that Gaga’s “The Monster Ball” tour would take over the venue in what the chart-topping changeling has called “the first-ever ‘pop electro opera.’ ”
Well, there were no fat ladies on display here, just Gaga’s sculpted glutes, which she wagged at the crowd like an overeager puppy in a variety of guises, all of which were meant to showcase her body like a series of couture trophy cases.
It suited the hot and bothered tone of the evening: This was less a concert than a night of heavy breathing pop performance art, alive with carnal choreography and more lewd come-ons than could be heard at a dozen construction sites.
“Tonight, I’m feeling particularly slutty,” Gaga panted early on in the show, wielding her sexuality like a battle ax.
If you want to argue that this kind of assertiveness is empowering, then Gaga was the Rosie the Riveter of the female libido.
Throughout her show at The Pearl, Gaga balanced a feminine grace with a masculine bawdiness.
She was a commanding presence, gripping a white keytar and singing from atop an illuminated cube early in the show during a propulsive “Just Dance,” punching the air, feigning masturbation (of the male variety) and doing the splits to punctuate the fireball funk of “LoveGame.”
She went through a series of costume changes, donning everything from tight red bikini bottoms and a matching top to a shiny black dress with 20-foot-long blond braids carried onstage by a phalanx of dancers while Gaga lounged upon the lighting rig during “Paparazzi.”
Though her sex drive seemed to be stuck in fourth gear and much of her stage banter unprintable, every forked tongue has two sides to it, and Gaga did attempt to balance her potty-mouthed sensuality with some sentiment.
Much of her set was lip synced, but she sang sweetly, seated at a piano, during bittersweet ballad “Speechless,” and did her best to foster a welcoming, communal vibe throughout the night.
“I created ‘The Monster Ball’ so that you would always have a place to go,” she said at one point. “Tonight, the freaks are outside.”
Inside, it was all whiplash beats, monstrous synth lines and spine-tingling bass levels.
In Gaga’s boy-crazy catalog, the dudes are wolves in disguise with Johnny Walker eyes or credit cards in tight jeans.
On one level, she embraces conspicuous consumption and fetishes the finer things in life.
“I can’t help myself. I’m addicted to a life of material,” she sang during “The Fame.” “It’s some kind of joke. I’m obsessively opposed to the typical.”
But live, you really do get the feeling that it’s all one elaborate punch line, with Gaga smirking knowingly in the wings.
She often mocks that which she claims to obsess over.
“I hate money,” she said at one point. “You know what I hate more than money? The truth. I love a big, giant pile of B.S. over the truth.”
Ironically then, for at least one moment in the evening, the truth was exactly what she was speaking.
Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin @reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476.
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