Tuesday, July 29, 2003

By Ed Masley, Post-Gazette Pop Music Critic

Midway through Christina Aguilera's homecoming gig last night at the Mellon Arena, a male stripper was briefly yet hopelessly trapped inside a prop when a curtain refused to budge and stage hands had to crawl inside the prop with Mr. Chippendale to get the curtain up and save the day.

And people wonder why most maids of honor never think of Spinal Tap when planning a bachelorette party ...

Aguilera also gave a few too many self-help sermons on the importance of being yourself -- or, at the very least, Xtina, your new alter ego, in Christina's case.

And there was one excruciating skit in which she scolded a naughty male dancer for tearing her skirt off to reveal a pair of hot pants that were clearly working overtime to earn the "hot" distinction. It couldn't have felt more staged.

But these were minor flaws at best in an otherwise brilliant performance.

Really.

Aguilera's always had the vocal chops to be a major talent. And now that she's touring an album she referred to Monday as "my first real CD, the one that's most me," she's turned the inner struggles, the tarting it up in the name of equal rights for hot young girls, the acting out on every impulse in the name of individuality that have combined to make her such an easy target -- the Madonna of her generation, if you will -- into performance-art erotica that challenges whatever expectations "Genie in a Bottle" may have raised.

The newly dark-haired Aguilera looked as if she'd just raided Vampirella's closet as she took the stage and gave her newly curvy look a workout to the throbbing beat of "Dirrty," followed by an even sexier "Get Mine, Get Yours."

But for a girl who's done things with a garden hose that MTV can't show you, there was nothing especially "Dirrty" about the concert.

Kinky, sure, especially the deconstructed "Genie in a Bottle," as performed by Aguilera splayed out on a giant X in what appeared to be a torture chamber. And she did turn the Mellon Arena into "The Best Little Whorehouse in Pittsburgh" for her steamy take on "Lady Marmalade."

But she could also play the wholesome entertainer in a red dress belting out two songs she learned from Etta James. Or the regular girl in jeans who closed the show with "Beautiful," a heartfelt ballad about how a person's beauty goes a good deal deeper than the skin she's always flashing in her videos and photo ops.

And this is while the music's shifting gears from gospel-flavored soul (including yet another major overhaul of "Come On Over (All I Want Is You)" to steamy Latin rhythms to -- I kid you not -- the droning industrial grind of Nine Inch Nails, all topped by Aguilera's massive, emotional voice.

Equal parts Marilyn Manson and Cher, her set made good on Soft Cell's promise of a non-stop erotic cabaret.

As mainstream pop shows go, in fact, you'd be hard-pressed to top it.

Fortunately, Justin Timberlake was preaching to the choir, inspiring fevered outpourings of Beatlemaniacal shrieking just for being Justin as he turned in a perfectly likable set that couldn't help but seem a little slick and ordinary, coming as it did in the wake of Aguilera unleashing that voice of hers while exorcising all those demons.

Still, the guy can sing, the human beatbox stuff is fun, he's clearly studied Michael Jackson's every move and he's certainly got the makings of an entertaining set in "Justified." He played a number of that album's better studies in Jacksonesque pop, including "Rock Your Body," "Senorita," "Still on My Brain" (an understated ballad) and the "Thriller"-esque drama of "Cry Me a River," delivered with flashes of lightning and great balls of fire.

Timberlake's also smart enough to understand that many in attendance wouldn't mind a little 'N Sync for their buck as long as someone from the group's in the house, and he obliged with "Girlfriend" and a Spanish-flavored "Gone."

From the sound of the screams that greeted those songs in particular, it was clear that Monday night was his. But the future? That's Christina's.

Openers the Black-Eyed Peas were off the stage by 7:45 -- or 15 minutes past the start time printed on the tickets. It was all the time they needed, though, to get the party started with a set that peaked -- and closed -- with "Where Is the Love?," a ray of hip-hop positivity whose chorus could pass for a bubblegum version of Sly and the Family Stone (and that's a compliment).

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