Two red-hot performers pick up steam onstage
July 18, 2006/ BY MIRIAM DI NUNZIO Staff Reporter/Chicago Sun Times
It’s pretty safe to say that somewhere along the road in her lengthy career, Etta James undoubtedly performed in some dark, steamy blues joints that were as hot as the Ravinia pavilion was on Sunday night.
Hot is an understatement, for when James took the stage along with a smokin’ seven-piece band behind her, it was a sweltering 95 degrees at the outdoor venue. It didn’t seem to faze the 69-year-old, who added a few degrees to the mercury with a sizzling hour-long set.
Svelte and smashing in a black pantsuit and black cowboy boots, James laid into a torrid One More Day and later punctuated the mood with the soulful lament of I’d Rather Go Blind. And her signature song did not disappoint, as James delivered a deliberate and sensual At Last, sung with authority by a lady who has indeed finally “found a dream [she] can call her own.”
As befitting a grand blues diva, James ended her set with some high drama, writhing through the torchy A Lover Is Forever, then returning her mike to its stand and reciting the last, nearly inaudible strains of the song as she walked slowly off stage.
A half hour later, it was a different mood created by a 66-year-old Tom Jones, who delivered a 90-minute set rife with blues, rock, pop and funk. Oh, and plenty of sweat. Literally.
Looking a bit trimmer these days (”200 pounds of heavenly joy” he would sing later on in the night with the Howlin’ Wolf classic 300 Pounds of Joy), Jones was soon a victim of the weekend’s insufferable heatwave.
Soon after he hit the stage, Jones began to sweat profusely. Change that — he melted before the eyes of the sold-out venue. Tomsweat flowed from every pore on his face and chest until his shirt was shrink-wrapped onto his torso. Tomsweat rained down from his elbows, from his head, his eyeballs, his hands. The front row got a veritable shower of the watery substance every time the chuckling Jones wiped his face and shook off his outstretched, drenched hand. Many an artist would have shortened the set or displayed nary a smile in the face of such an ordeal, but Jones just smiled and went on with the show because a pro knows the show must go on.
Jones kept the night moving, peppering the program with the greatest hits (Delilah, What’s New Pussycat? She’s a Lady) and some nice surprises, including the rowdy piano-driven boogie-woogie take on Jerry Lee Lewis’ End of the Road, and Stoned in Love, Jones’ new techno/dance single (released only in Britain) that got pretty much everyone up and dancing to its contagious disco rhythm. You Can Leave Your Hat On and Sex Bomb just kept the vibe going.
The obligatory lingerie made its way to the stage throughout the night, as the youngest of young ladies — squealing twentysomethings — paid proper homage to the king of all things unmentionable.
And somewhere on a bathroom scale today, Tom Jones has to be 10 pounds lighter. He left it behind on the stage at Ravinia.