The level of excitement in the house (about four-fifths full) suddenly elevated when Gill stepped out in his gold velvet suit. It reached its peak for the evening when he sang his 1990 hit, "My, My, My." Gill's new album, Let's Get The Mood Right, is overproduced and underwritten, but live, he is a more commanding singer than ever. He has a rich, burnished baritone somewhere between Teddy Pendergrass and Jeffrey Osborne, and it filled every corner of the venue.
While many contemporary R&B artists try to affect gospel fervor by dragging every syllable back and forth over three octaves, Gill showed his gospel roots through emotional intensity rather than technical frills. He did toss out a fe crowd-pleasing dance moves but seemed genuinely seized by the music when he spun almost giddily across the stage.
Gill took a break after "My, My, My," and the five original members reprised some of their early hits. Gill came out again to play drums on "Mr. Telephone Man," which sounds better now that the guys have deeper voices. Still, that segment seemed anticlimatic.
Things started to build again as Gill returned to the microphone for later New Edition hits such as "Can You Stand The Rain." However, he only got to sing a portion of his new solo hit, "It's Your Body."
New Edition may be the brand name that's selling tickets, but artistically, it would have made more sense to let Gill take over the end of the show with the other guys singing harmony.
Brown was apparently quite sensitive to this imbalance. He tried, fairly successfully, to rile the crowd by announcing that he had to leave before the end of the show, he claimed, Orlando police were waiting backstage to arrest him for having bared his booty earlier during his song "My Prerogative." He departed, leaving the other guys to cool things down with a ballad, bringing the show to an awkward encore-less conclusion. (Everyone was starting to head for the exits, anyway. It was already after the arena's usual midnight curfew because of long set changes.)
Brown has had his share of brushes with the law, but the Orlando police were not pursuing him on this occasion. However, the fashion police might want to issue a citation for those red knickers and that ridiculous sleeveless and torso-less "shirt."
Opening act Blackstreet delivered some gorgeous, smooth vocal harmonies, although the subtleties of Teddy Riley's arrangements were often obscured ina bass-heavy mix. Keith Sweat won over the crowd with his salacious moves, but his songs were as undistinguished as his pinched, colorless vocals. The first act on the bill, 702, was notable chiefly for its volume.
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