Andrew
01-27-2003, 11:40pm
Only Sting sings with spark
January 27, 2003
BY JIM DEROGATIS POP MUSIC CRITIC
Chicago Sun-Times
With the notable exception of last year's festivities, which took a turn toward post-9/11 flag-waving and tear-jerking courtesy of U2 and Sir Paul McCartney, the Super Bowl halftime shows of recent seasons have been as glitzy and empty as most of the top-dollar television commercials, only half as entertaining.
The mid-game music at Super Bowl XXXVII was no different.
While undeniably MTV-friendly, this year's featured names were a bit of a letdown after 2002, and the performances seemed to be shorter than usual. (Heaven forbid the network skimp on time for the aforementioned commercials, which, as we all know, are really the main reason to watch.)
A fine example of all that is vapid and superficial in modern Nashville, Shania Twain kicked things off by taking the stage wearing a diamond-studded dominatrix outfit. Accompanied by a band of posing, preening glamor boys who looked like rejects from Loverboy, she crooned a medley of two of her just-vaguely-country-tinged pop hits while strutting her bad-*** wares in a most alluring way.
Unfortunately, Twain lacked the courage of her kinky convictions and failed to go all the way: Her cameo appearance would have been much more entertaining if she actually produced the bullwhip that her outfit cried out for, and if she'd used it to inspire a few key members of the Raiders' offense to try just a little bit harder.
Setting aside the facts that she has an extremely limited range and very little vocal personality (homespun alternative-country divas Neko Case and Kelly Hogan could mop the floor at the Hideout with Shania any day of the week), the most annoying aspect of her mini-set was those backing bozos, who tried to stick their mugs in front of the cameras at every opportunity.
While the guitarist flaunted a double-neck axe for no apparent reason (when did Hee-Haw morph with Led Zeppelin's ''The Song Remains the Same''?), the fiddle player tried to make like Gene Simmons of KISS by extending his tongue into the mosh pit, and the drummer wore a pair of spaceman goggles that made him look like one of those bug-eyed Powerpuff Girls.
The second half of the brief show was more successful. Gwen Stefani's amphetamine-stoked aerobics-instructor routine has grown tired, and No Doubt should be ashamed of itself for continuing to flog a hit single (Just A Girl) that is seven years old. But there was at least a bit of a spark when Sting joined the reggae-tinged popsters for a rendition of the Police classic, ''Message In A Bottle.''
Looking more buff than many of the players on the field, Sting sang the still charming New Wave oldie with the same spirit that he showed in the '80s, and he seemed only mildly peeved when Stefani added her off-key helium squeak to the duet.
After a few chants of ''Sending Out an SOS,'' the fireworks shot skyward, the ground crew rushed out to begin dismantling the stage while the performers were still in the process of leaving it, and the network switched to more commercials before the gridiron carnage continued.
You're forgiven if you yawned and missed it all, or if a trip to the fridge seemed more exciting.
If the NFL can't come up with something better than this in next year's offering, they should save themselves a lot of trouble and time and hire a good old-fashioned high school marching band.
Then at least in this one small section of Super Bowl silliness, we might escape the hype.
This review is one of the stupidest I have ever seen in my opinion. :rolleyes: He goes around critisicsing everyone.... I'd like to see him try to sing on stage. :rolleyes:
January 27, 2003
BY JIM DEROGATIS POP MUSIC CRITIC
Chicago Sun-Times
With the notable exception of last year's festivities, which took a turn toward post-9/11 flag-waving and tear-jerking courtesy of U2 and Sir Paul McCartney, the Super Bowl halftime shows of recent seasons have been as glitzy and empty as most of the top-dollar television commercials, only half as entertaining.
The mid-game music at Super Bowl XXXVII was no different.
While undeniably MTV-friendly, this year's featured names were a bit of a letdown after 2002, and the performances seemed to be shorter than usual. (Heaven forbid the network skimp on time for the aforementioned commercials, which, as we all know, are really the main reason to watch.)
A fine example of all that is vapid and superficial in modern Nashville, Shania Twain kicked things off by taking the stage wearing a diamond-studded dominatrix outfit. Accompanied by a band of posing, preening glamor boys who looked like rejects from Loverboy, she crooned a medley of two of her just-vaguely-country-tinged pop hits while strutting her bad-*** wares in a most alluring way.
Unfortunately, Twain lacked the courage of her kinky convictions and failed to go all the way: Her cameo appearance would have been much more entertaining if she actually produced the bullwhip that her outfit cried out for, and if she'd used it to inspire a few key members of the Raiders' offense to try just a little bit harder.
Setting aside the facts that she has an extremely limited range and very little vocal personality (homespun alternative-country divas Neko Case and Kelly Hogan could mop the floor at the Hideout with Shania any day of the week), the most annoying aspect of her mini-set was those backing bozos, who tried to stick their mugs in front of the cameras at every opportunity.
While the guitarist flaunted a double-neck axe for no apparent reason (when did Hee-Haw morph with Led Zeppelin's ''The Song Remains the Same''?), the fiddle player tried to make like Gene Simmons of KISS by extending his tongue into the mosh pit, and the drummer wore a pair of spaceman goggles that made him look like one of those bug-eyed Powerpuff Girls.
The second half of the brief show was more successful. Gwen Stefani's amphetamine-stoked aerobics-instructor routine has grown tired, and No Doubt should be ashamed of itself for continuing to flog a hit single (Just A Girl) that is seven years old. But there was at least a bit of a spark when Sting joined the reggae-tinged popsters for a rendition of the Police classic, ''Message In A Bottle.''
Looking more buff than many of the players on the field, Sting sang the still charming New Wave oldie with the same spirit that he showed in the '80s, and he seemed only mildly peeved when Stefani added her off-key helium squeak to the duet.
After a few chants of ''Sending Out an SOS,'' the fireworks shot skyward, the ground crew rushed out to begin dismantling the stage while the performers were still in the process of leaving it, and the network switched to more commercials before the gridiron carnage continued.
You're forgiven if you yawned and missed it all, or if a trip to the fridge seemed more exciting.
If the NFL can't come up with something better than this in next year's offering, they should save themselves a lot of trouble and time and hire a good old-fashioned high school marching band.
Then at least in this one small section of Super Bowl silliness, we might escape the hype.
This review is one of the stupidest I have ever seen in my opinion. :rolleyes: He goes around critisicsing everyone.... I'd like to see him try to sing on stage. :rolleyes: