Jessie Ware deserves to be a bigger star, and she knows it. “Sell out next time, Los Angeles,” the U.K. singer joked to the giddy, surprisingly multigenerational crowd at the Hollywood Palladium on Monday night, one of a few times during her hour-and-a-half-long set that she gently ribbed her audience. (For the record, the show was added after the first date sold out.)
No matter. The night felt like the best kind of secret party. Specifically, one taking place in an imaginary club called the Pearl circa 1979. Emerging in a billowing bright red kaftan that looked one part Donna Summer and one part Stevie Nicks, Ware leaned hard into the disco-funk of her most recent albums, 2020’s What’s Your Pleasure? and this year’s That! Feels Good!, and nodding only briefly to the elegantly restrained R&B and blue-eyed soul that she built her name on starting with 2012’s Devotion. If dance music provided much-needed comfort during the isolation of the pandemic, this was an ecstatic celebration of what it feels like to reemerge at one’s freest and freakiest.
Unlike her most notable contemporary, Adele—who’s generated her own economy by playing it safe with middle-of-the-road ballads—Ware isn’t afraid to look silly, even ridiculous. She shimmied across the stage singing the title song of That! Feels Good! as two male dancers pretended to play prop trombones. And she broke out her goofiest retro moves for the fizzy, wonderfully unpretentious “Shake the Bottle” and “Ooh La La,” snapping, pointing, and swinging her arms like Uma Thurman at Jack Rabbit Slim’s.
In the grooviest, gayest stretch of the night, Ware wrapped herself in feathers and formed a conga line with her dancers for “Pearls,” “Selfish Love,” and “Begin Again.” It was a reminder that Ware, who also earns her living hosting a food podcast and selling kids’ clothes, among other side hustles, is so much more than a powerhouse vocalist. She’s an entertainer extraordinaire.
Despite the set’s many lavish visual embellishments (neon sign, a disco ball-shiny dress), Ware’s singing proved to be as radiant as it is on record: strong and clear or high and flirty when it needed to be, and theatrical and extravagant whenever she decided to let out a Mariah-worthy vocal run. Ware knows her gift, but just as importantly, she knows when to hold back. Coming off the euphoria of her disco-indebted tunes, she launched into a stunning solo performance of Tough Love’s “Say You Love Me,” her tone vulnerable and sobering as she belted the gorgeous first line of the song’s chorus: “’Cause I don’t wanna fall in love, if you don’t wanna try.”
Yet Ware was more intent on lifting people up than bumming them out, sometimes to a fault. By the time she wafted through the crowd for a cover of Cher’s “Believe” (improved from the Auto-Tuned original but still vapid and treacly), it was hard not to feel like she was gay-baiting. But the audience, some too young to remember when that Cher hit was released 25 years ago, took the bait, singing along and cheering with abandon.
Thankfully, she ended the night with her own grown-up anthem, “Free Yourself,” the house piano chords reverberating through the theater as she commanded, “Don’t stop!” One of pop’s least self-serious stars, Ware might have become a bigger act on this side of the pond by peddling only heartbreak. But she had a different message on her mind last night: Whatever era, whether you’re selling out or not, it’s always worth allowing yourself pleasure.
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Paul, your review was amazing. I was there and I’m a huge fan and she never lets us down it was an amazing show. Thanks for share with the world the big star that she is.