“FIN”. The panoramic LCD display descended to the ground, signalling the end of the concert in monochromatic serif, Drake’s Girls Love Beyonce gently emanating from the PA as the crowd shuffled their feet through golden confetti towards the bottlenecked exits. We had just witnessed greatness, a goddamn real life superhero. A queen, a god. Mrs Carter. Beyonce.
It was a state of the arts (plural emphasised) spectacular. Lights, sound engineering, multi-screen cinematography, dance, fashion, and most importantly, amongst all the hyper-stimuli was music. It’s a sweet spot for Beyonce’s album cycle, the entirety of the setlist imbued with familiarity, cherry-picked from Bey’s four-album-deep back catalogue, mostly shying away from slower ballads, sustaining energy levels well into the red for two straight hours.
After a tease of the Major Lazer-sampling drumline of Run The World (Girls), Beyonce, shining like a deity, emerged from the middle of the stage. An image of sheer, commanding power. “Who run this mother?” Rhetorical question, obviously. The joyous End Of Time followed, then one of the night’s many costume and colour palette changes (the dynamic, all-consuming use of colour swathes can’t be overstated), then one of three ballads evenly placed throughout the performance. If I Were A Boy was mixed with hints of Bittersweet Symphony early on, the incredible 1 + 1 was performed atop a grand piano in a celestial purple catsuit midway through, then the night was closed with Dolly Parton’s I Will Always Love You segueing into a percussion-enhanced Halo.
Through a storm of glitter, Queen Bey flew over the crowd to land in the centre-arena catwalk, commanding a sing-and-wave-along of “To the left, to the left” for Irreplaceable. Forgoing the medley of classics displayed at Glastonbury 2011, we were instead treated to Survivor as the only taste of Destiny’s Child material. I guess we weren’t ready for the jelly of Bootylicious.
In terms of pop arena spectaculars, tonight didn’t really push the envelope. The tropes were adhered to – pyrotechnic wonder (including the clichéd spark-firing guitar solo), the kinda-contrived audience interaction (a fan just happened to throw a hat onstage which matched Bey’s current dress), confetti cannons, plus plenty of call and response – “Heeeeeey Miss Carter” – and back-up dancers-as-foil action. But it was a case of brandishing pure class rather than striving for transgression, compounding the power of womanhood with Beyonce’s self-built mythology through inter-song video vignettes. Classic showmanship, misdirection-aided magic proving to be futile distractions from a weapons-class powerhouse of a voice. Countdown, and its technicolour film clip, were teased for fleeting moments on the array of onstage displays. When it came to the actual countdown, we joined in, with intuition leading to a full runthrough of the song, yeah? But after counting down to one, bam, straight into an all-gold Crazy In Love. Jaws on the floor.
“Ten years from now you gon’ say you was at that Beyonce concert.” Who are we to disagree with the Queen?
BY LACHLAN KANONIUK
Photo by Robin Harper
LOVED: The booming Mercy beat creeping into Diva. Seriously, Diva could drop today and still sound fresh as hell.
HATED: The setlist was incredibly polished, but I suppose you’re always going to be left wanting for more in a show like this.
DRANK: Not enough to provide a numbing aperitif for Iggy Azalea.
