THE VOICE OF CHICAGO'S GAY, LESBIAN, BI, TRANS AND QUEER COMMUNITY SINCE 1985

"Cruising" singles, Luther Vandross' entire output ) , but how to explain the phenomena of gangsta rap and its perception of women as ( largely ) 'hos and bitches, or L'il Kim ( just what our little Black girls need as a role model ) . When LaBelle sang of "Lady Marmalade" in 1975, it was risque and exotic, but slyly distant enough not to condone prostitution ( Marmalade's sad-sack john seemed just as removed as Lady M herself ) , while the remake seems to wallow in its suggested raunchiness.

No wonder that blue-eyed soul man Boz Scaggs and old-school soul institution the Isley Brothers shows in Chicago recently seemed so refreshing. The Isley's "Contagious" single ( penned by one R. Kelly ) is such a lilting delight of wafting vocals, subtle orchestration, and sublime craftsmanship that listening to it is like being knocked out ( seduced ) by a feather. It harkens back to the "The Sound of Philadelphia," the production team of Gamble and Huff, vintage Al Green, and the Temptations " ( Just My ) Imagination" single, all from the '70s.

Boz Scagg's new CD, Dig, and his show which pulled into the Vic Theater Nov. 10 are just as much a throwback. Scaggs of course will always be remembered for Silk Degrees, one of 1976's bestselling albums and arguably one of the best of the decade. An urbane combination of soul and rock steeped in a bluesy core, its lead single, "Lowdown," was so smooth/compelling that it was strangely labeled disco. Me, I never got that label, and to hear the "Live from the Archives" version from WXRT ( Scaggs live in a radio studio with just an acoustic guitar ) is an experience of sheer beauty. Hearing it stripped down, the loveliness of the melody and the flow of words and their construction are awe-inspiring. Silk Degrees itself is such a perfect combination of barrelhouse swing ( "What Do You Want the Girl to Do?" "Georgia" ) , powdered disco ( "What Can I Say?" ) and open-hearted balladry ( "We're All Alone," "Harbor Lights" ) that at the time it was such an obvious milestone that Scaggs seemed unlikely to live it down.

Nineteen-eighty's Middle Man did, but there was no way it could approach Degrees' quadruple platinum sales. On Middle Man Scaggs straddled the boundaries of sexiness and smuttiness in such a telling way that he not only could have his cake and eat it, but he had everybody else's cake too. The album, a sort of free-wheeling concept song cycle about a ( presumably ) high-class pimp, was delivered with such polish and charm that the libidinous edges seemed non-existent. On the opening track, "JoJo" Scaggs asks "Say, what do you think of gentlemen wearing mink?"—sounding provocative but coming across like a sleaze. "Middle Man" the song is such a blazing celebration of sexual excitement that you can easily overlook what it's really about ( "You can spend ALL my money/ honey..." ) . The masterwork is the closer —"You Got Some Imagination," a crushing bruising rock landslide of humiliation and rejection ( "...you gotta mind like a tattle tale magazine/You think I'd fall for you?/You got some imagination." ) . Sex for money, head games, inflated self-worth at the expense of others—it all comes crashing down with the final 15 seconds of Carlos Santana's flaming guitar solo. "You Got Some Imagination" rips the buffed polish of sensuality and sexiness into shreds—sex becomes as unglamorous and mundane ( and eventually as commonplace and ugly ) as taking out the trash, something you gotta do. In hindsight it was a perfect companion piece to Dirty Mind—two mudstained valentines to inaugurate the 1980s, the era of AIDS.

Scaggs, actually a country and western bluesman from Texas, is about something else altogether. After shuffling around Europe and recording acoustically he spent a spell as vocalist for the Steve Miller Band. By the time he'd recorded Silk Degrees he'd already cut five albums, all morphing country/rock/blues. After Degrees and the Grammy and the platinum discs, he's back to recording music that now shifts rock and jazz with a comfortable bluesy anchor. Dig, like its predecessor Open Road, continues the tradition. But don't look for a "Lowdown" or a "Middle Man"—this is a relaxed Boz.

For his show at the Vic, Scaggs—never a dramatic stage performer—started things off with a sleepy batch of Dig's cuts. "Payday" and "Miss Riddle" were polite in themselves, but things didn't get interesting until he did a languid undisco-fied take of "JoJo." The ancient "Hercules" and a near-nuclear version of "Love—Look What You've Done for Me," moved the show into a higher gear, but the show was ultimately made by the encore. To be fair, "Lowdown" was a trainwreck; sped up, undramatic, rushed and saddled with a three-minute bass solo, it lost its velocity in the first 15 seconds. "Lido Shuffle," given a "Z Z Top treatment," was far more compelling—grinding, pungent, and downright dirty, it was unquestionably better than the original. But the capper and worth every penny of the ticket was "Miss Sun." As Scaggs spun through his pursuit of the elusive title femme ( "I tried to hold you but the moon got in the way..." ) , he and lead guitarist Tom Harrington fell into a lilting quiet duet with Mone, one of this tour's very talented back-up singers. Darting in and out, around each other, circling like sparrows in a big billowy cloud, the interchange between them was phenomenal.

When Mone sang, "... won't be long before the morning has you back in my arms...," she and Scaggs and Harrington dimmed the lights and flung the sheets back on sex. For them, sex became romantic chemistry—a duet of eye contact, hushed conversations that meant more not for the words spoken but the tone of voice they're spoken in, and the warm touch of a hand. It was refreshing to be reminded of how sexiness feels instead of merely what it looks like