CONCERT REVIEW: Robbie Williams, Atlanta, Ga., 5/12/99
- Lang Whitaker
If you combine the Jedi zen of Obi-Wan Kenobi with the suave sophistication of James Bond, then toss in a dash of the goofy licentiousness of Austin Powers, and you'll start getting a picture that resembles Robbie Williams. The anticipation stateside for the Robbie Williams' British invasion has been building for some time now, and rightfully so. After releasing two well-received albums in the United Kingdom, spawning several big hits (including the tuneful "Millenium" and the triumphant, anthemic "Angel"), Williams has succesfully resurrected his career from the ashes of his stint in Brit boy band Take That! With "Millenium" currently climbing the U.S. pop charts, Williams is nipping at the heels of a few ex-New Kids on the Block with his odd combination of ballsy hooligan street smarts and cheeky British smarm.
Wearing a grey muscle shirt and grey karate pants, and sporting a freshly buzzed crew cut, Robbie Williams charged onto the Cotton Club stage needing only a glowing lightsaber to complete his Phantom Menace look. His doughy arms decorated by numerous tattoos, Williams began by leaping around and playing air guitar while the Star Wars theme blared over the P.A. system, inexplicibly substituting a shovel for a guitar, which prompted the enthusiastic crowd to get even rowdier. People near the front of the stage undulated forward, arms flailing at Williams' feet, threatening to pull the popster into their mosh of perspiring humanity.
And then the band came on stage.
Williams began his show, proper, with the rollicking "Let Me Entertain You," imbuing the song with a Neil Diamond's "Brother Love's Travelin' Road Show" feel. Williams has so much charm and charisma, that at any moment I expected him to began hawking snake oil or a some miracle cure-all tonic. "Entertain You" then segued smoothly into Eminem's "My Name Is"; Williams, no slouch, nailed every word, changing every "Slim Shady" to "Robbie Williams," but otherwise rapping it out phrase for phrase.
The show eventually wound through almost all the songs on Williams' current U.S. release, The Ego Has Landed, with the band occasionally drifting into a Beatles cover or a Rolling Stones chord riff. Williams, born to be a diva, repeatedly pointed out that it was NOT true that pop stars get shagged a lot, and he conveniently gave out directions to his hotel for any of the 800-member crowd interested in coming over after the show for a quick shag. This prospect so excited one well-endowed young woman that she spontaneously threw up her tank top to flash her headlights at Williams; he responded by tossing an unlight cigarette to the lucky fan.
After encore versions of "Millenium" (which was sung along with a track while the band faked their instruments) and "Angel," Williams cheerfully waved goodbye and trotted off the stage. As Tom Jones' "It's Not Unusual" kicked to life through the magic of CD, the doleful crowd sauntered out, coming down from the highs of being entertained for the last hour by a master entertainer. And somewhere, in a hotel a few blocks away, Robbie Williams was probably feeling quite shagadelic. Yeah, baby!
