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

Imagine my horror when I went to check out Aretha Franklin at the newly refurbished UIC with my friend Salem. Turned out on the way there Salem confided to me that she has a particular dislike of arena concerts. The closer we got to the show, the more I felt the evening was shaping up in a bad way. What could be worse than seeing the most intimate of performers sing in a basketball stadium?

To my ( and Salem's ) relief, I was wrong. For starters, the UIC is BIG, all steel and concrete and glass but it's far from impersonal. With wide open spacing, curtains placed in entryways instead of brick walls and a very leisurely layout ( how leisurely? I have to say getting in and out of the show was not a problem ) , it's about as comfy as a sports arena can get. Ironically, even though we had nosebleed seats, the space actually accentuated the show. Better still was the sound quality. It's a given that live shows in these spaces suffer from intolerable acoustics and what you hear is a muffled mix punched across with seat-rattling power. Arena rock and Death Metal can flourish in this, but not soul. On this occasion the sound was remarkably crisp ( you could hear every rattle of the tambourine, every Gospel sigh, and every plunk of the strings ) , making this the most intimate and acoustically correct arena show I've ever seen.

Now, about the show ...

Aretha Franklin, "Queen of Soul," goddess of pure emotion, Icon, Diva. Last year at her two-night stand at the HOB ( her last appearance in Chicago ) , she gave a brilliant but eccentric set which undercut the power of her show. I commented in my review that the difficulty of musical genius flowering at an early stage in one's career tends to overshadow/ minimize the impact of the later work. Trapped onstage with a 15-piece orchestra and a cumbersome grand piano, bogged by a flu, Franklin seemed a touch impersonal and erratic in her focus the night I saw her. All of that was gone Nov. 30.

In its place was a performer who seemed extremely happy to be onstage and happy to see this audience. The set list reflected this, but ultimately it wasn't what she was singing, but how she was singing it. That Italian Aria that she sang on the Grammy's years ago ( to decidedly mixed reviews ) popped up here, but with a much different response than it did at the HOB ( that crowds response seemed to be a collective "Whaaa..." ) . The difference was in attitude. This diva was in a joyful state.

Wearing the same pink champagne ensemble she wore last year ( full-length gown with a high-collared flower-ruffle cape ) , she sailed onstage and got down to business. Ironically, her outfit typified the difference between this show and the HOB gig. Last year she seemed encumbered, restricted, almost like she was placed on stage like an object. This time instead of a single costume change she routinely waved the cape dramatically, enjoying the fabric and the fall of the garment. By the last third of the show she was continuously losing herself in spontaneous clapping and dancing. This time she was definitely having FUNNN. As a matter of course the show was embellished with fierce soul. The second song, "Natural Woman," benefited from a near a-capella soul-drenched finish. Franklin alone at the piano, pounding "Dr. Feelgood," savoring every minute of it ( the ladies behind us matter-of-factly encouraged her; "Play the piana, grrrl..." ) , and delivering a positively hair-raising vocal. Franklin doing a medley of 1960s soul songs by other artists and making them her own ( The Four Tops, Martha and the Vandellas, the Isley Brothers, and most surprisingly the Supremes...Franklin's take of "I Hear a Symphony" transversed from pleasant pop into jazz-inflected hard soul. I don't want to be the one to say it, but the sheer vocal power and range of this diva made that other "diva" look slight and sound paper thin ) . Franklin introducing "Freeway of Love" by talking about the Dan Ryan and "that one by the lake...," then hitting the accelerator on the song, dancing her tush off, and leading this crowd in a frenzied mob jam ( from behind me, "Sang th' song, grrrl..." ) . And then there was "Respect." Absent ( and missed ) from last year's show, Aretha pulled it out early here. Searing, pointed, and deliberate, 33 years after its release, it still asks the right question bluntly; "Why can't you respect me?"

The only recording that's even near the same ballpark is Tina Turner's "Better Be Good to Me." But in the 12th month of the year 2001, particularly in the gay community, "Respect" is what we need to hear. Released during the Civil Rights Movement and before the Stonewall Riots, this confrontational love song has always, because of the historical timing, meant a great deal more. Now, civil and gay rights are definitely happening but the song still remains the same. Demanding/feeling entitled to respect is a given, but hearing Franklin's searing rave-up this night made me think of respect in a different light. Respect WITHIN the gay community, respecting my own life; this isn't an "us or them" thing anymore, it's "us and us."

On the day after George Harrison's death, a date which will be remembered as one of the days when the music died, Franklin reminded me about human dignity and the value of diversity through the power of her ferocious talent. But she also reminded me of the timeliness of her message..."R.E.S.P.E.C.T./find out what it means to me..."