Solo, Scialfa is vivid, satisfying

September 20, 2004
By By Ken Capobianco, Globe Correspondent

At the start of Patti Scialfa's set at the Paradise Friday night, there was an obvious buzz in the sold-out room. "You think Bruce will show?" a woman asked her companion as she stood by the huge, imported soundboard. It was a thought everyone was probably considering, but by night's end it didn't really matter whether or not Scialfa's husband, Bruce Springsteen, had shown up because the singer had wowed the crowd with a vivid, deeply felt set that served as a hearty reminder that she is a major talent in her own right.

This was only the second night of Scialfa's first headlining tour, but she is extremely stage-savvy thanks to years of road work as backup vocalist in the E Street Band. Dressed in a black tank top and jeans, the redheaded singer-songwriter was poised as she led her seven-piece band and two backing vocalists on the cramped stage through a 2-hour, 10-minute set.

Scialfa is touring behind her second solo record, "23rd Street Lullaby," a richly conceived song cycle that recalls living in the '80s in New York City. It's street-smart and infused with a sweeping romanticism -- in many ways it evokes Springsteen's panoramic "The Wild, the Innocent & the E Street Shuffle" -- as it's a lyrical work dripping with atmosphere and sharply drawn characters. Scialfa and company played almost the entire record, along with choice cuts from her sadly overlooked but memorable 1993 record, "Rumble Doll."

They opened with "Spanish Dancer," a sweetly evocative ballad, and never hit a speed bump as the group, featuring E Street members guitarist Nils Lofgren and violinist Soozie Tyrell, plus cellist Jane Scarpantoni, drummer Steve Jordan, and keyboardist Cliff Carter, showed remarkable range and versatility. They shifted from soulful pop in "You Can't Go Back" to front-porch folksiness in "Each Other's Medicine" to rousing Jersey guitar rock on "Lucky Girl," and they nailed the girl-group glory of "Baby Don't," on which Scialfa sounded like Ronnie Spector in her heyday.

Unlike most pop tarts gumming up the charts, Scialfa has a voice that has genuine depth and dimension, and there's a bruised knowingness to her phrasing. She commanded attention not because she was doing vocal somersaults but because she exuded a warmth and wisdom that's rare these days. This was a supremely satisfying show; Scialfa proved she can sing urban lullabies and then rumble with the best of them.

And, oh yeah, Bruce never showed -- he was probably watching the Yankees-Red Sox game.