springtime 305

It was big. It was polished to the point of no spontaneity and no, she didn’t sing. Of course she didn’t sing, she’s Britney Spears. But she pranced and danced (perhaps not as nimbly as she once did) and writhed her way through two hours of big, unapologetic pop goodness. Those looking for a live show with a musician/audience connection were in the wrong place. This wasn’t a gig, it was a show, complete with a dwarf, a legless trampoliner (I don’t know the technical, nor the politically correct term, I’m sorry) and countless costume changes. Britney isn’t a voice, she’s an idea, a face and a representation. The sound was big, as big as the set, and Perez Hilton opened the show with a, dare I say it, fantastic monologue. I went in with low expectations, I went out with them superseded. Love her, hate her, Britney Spears has come to typify a brand of celebrity and a movement of music, as well as form a grand narrative that has played out over the coming of age of an entire generation. That’s why people went to see her; not to hear her sing. Oh and Baby One More Time and Toxic? Brit-tastic.

Read Bernard Zuel’s perfectly accurate review here.