Gaga recap

Gyroscope! I knew I forgot an abstract descriptor!

My assignment for 'review writing':

‘What do you need me for? There are enough blonde wigs and tight skirts here to make plenty of Gagas!’ Melodramatic self-effacing is part of her paradoxical charm. By now she has concocted the perfect formula for pure, unadulterated pop fame but allows only her flamboyant faux nouveau costuming and mega vixen stage presence to convey her celebrity. She is quiet and shy in interviews but she is a diva.

She is the czaress of pop. This was no concert; this was a coronation. Her purple bus driver’s hat and enormous-shouldered purple blazer in the opening set enhanced her royal-militant image as reigning pop dictator. She does not offer you her sexy lyrics and Lycra; she demands you ingest them and come back for lip-smacking seconds and thirds.

And she brought a camp cast to help with the force-feeding. ‘Posh,’ a rippling black Adonis with a glam loincloth lead a troupe of choreographed followers: backing her, in awe of her. They are her fan-friends; what we all aspire to be - just with impossible bodies and actual dance ability.

On their way to the Monster Ball, a tornado ripped the group asunder and there is Gaga, alone, before an unadorned black grand piano. With a costume of just a square PVC foot, she was similarly black and unadorned. Suddenly, a truly beautiful thing happened: she began lightly fingering the instrument and eventually bled into her heart-broken ballad ‘Speechless,’ minus the synth-fluff. The result was also black and unadorned. And it was beautifully powerful.

For all her pop pomp and electro-sex circumstance, Gaga has maintained her NYU Tisch School musical chops. Her shrill voice soared above the masterfully tickled ivories. Before we were entertained; now we were hers. Now, we wanted her bad, her bad romance.

The audience knew when it was finally time. There would be no encore, only finale. They began to chant the song’s opening lines. Then from the electric darkness, the full glory of the ‘electro-pop orchestra’ shone upon us: ‘Bad Romance’ blasted the arena with full-frontal pop power. The arena shook with every pounding chorus of the super-song. It was like every little monster present had forgotten then simultaneously remembered how good the song truly is. And no one could command such an army like her. We needed Lady Gaga.