Thirty years after Robb Baker wrote this review for the Tribune, Tina Turner has upheld her reputation as one of the best live entertainers in rock. She will perform Saturday at the Allstate Arena. (In 1984, Turner opened for Lionel Richie at the same venue, then the Rosemont Horizon; today the roles are reversed.)
NEW YORK–It was a cold night at the Fillmore East. But that didn’t really matter much. It could have been a cold day in hell: Tina Turner would still give a performance that would boil ice cubes faster than you can say bump ‘n’ grind.
All I can say is that, after two years “in the business,” I think I’ve seen most of the best, at their best: Morrison, Hendrix, Jagger, Joplin, Aretha, Sam and Dave, Judy Collins. And absolutely none of them has it over Tina. Joplin may be as good, but she’s no better.
Tina has a big, low voice and can belt out a song–be it slow blues or uptempo soul-rock–with the best of them. But that’s not really where it’s at with her, for it’s only a small part of the total effect.
She’s not just a singer; she’s a dancer, a beauty queen, a high-class stripper (she doesn’t, but she still is), and lion tamer, all rolled up into one. But most of all, she’s a star.
That sort of thing is always evident the moment a performer walks on stage. You look at Tina once, and you know. Absolutely.
All of her body is alive, itching to move. Her mini-outfits are incredible–gold or silver lame, with or without fringe, black lace see-thru, or (like that Friday at the Fillmore) a white crocheted peekaboo that reminded me of that old antimacassar we had on the back of the purple living room chair when I was a kid.
Everything she sings is body music. She makes it her own, then transmits it to you. . . . Soul at last becomes completely colorless, as the most fantastic black woman ever takes “white soul” by people like the Beatles, the Stones, Dusty Springfield, and Creedence Clearwater Revival and makes it completely her own.
