Lovato, Jonas still have work to do heading to future
When you have your eye on the future and are shielding it from the past, it’s very difficult to be in the present.
And you wind up being stuck somewhere in the middle.
That’s an idea and observation you invite when you name your tour Future Now, and you are performers attempting to continue on a journey that began when you were but a child and your fans were and, tellingly, remain the same.
And it’s a conclusion you can easily come to when you sit and watch the result, as was the case on Saturday night at the Saddledome when Nick Jonas and Demi Lovato brought their team-up to town for 7,000 or so predominantly young fans.
It’s been noted a million times before how difficult it is to transition from that teen star to adult artist, but that’s only because so few have successfully done it and even those who do need some sort of transition, often a lengthy one, to get there, discover that voice and, more importantly, persona that is something entirely their own.
Former Jonas Brother — well, obviously he still is one, but now years into a career removed from his kin — offered the first attempt of the evening to state his case for no longer ever having to bring up that past. It was only moderately successful.
Jonas has talent. Indisputably. He has a voice that is sweet and as billowy and flowing as the cloud in which you’d lovingly write his name in cursive on your binder.
And his material, true to his 23 years on this Earth and the age of his fans, still dwells in that realm of love and lust as a vague idea, experiences that aren’t as easily defined or explained in words that resonate to anyone over the age of 30.
Tracks such as Levels (“I know we can get higher/There’s levels to your love”), Bacon, Numb, Chains and Chainsaw remain those that touch only those invested in the easy beat, the easy-to-recall lyrics or the easyto-look-at image, not the man.
As for that stage presence, that actually was fairly mature, but it also came off as somewhat aloof or distant, not quite the engaging and seasoned entertainer you’d expect or hope for.
It was a surprisingly static performance, Jonas wandering the stage, spending most of it in a spotlight at the front of the short footway into the crowd, either singing and emoting or singing and playing a guitar.
The band behind him, the one shared with his co-star for the evening, submerged behind the main stage, also could do little but play — professionally and ably, mind you, albeit blunted by a horrible soundboard mix — save for the pair of backup singers who hopped up intermittently and, well, just sang.
There was nothing that could even be called a stage show, save for some pedestrian lights and some videos on the giant screen.
It was remarkably uninteresting to look at and not what you’d expect from someone who knows, or should know, that his still young fans might need something bright, shiny and entertaining to be pulled into the show, even if he’s wanting them to focus on the man and material that are representative of who he now is.
The 24-year-old Lovato was much the same — putting all of her reliance on those songs, her voice, her reputation as a survivor and, yes, that body she so proudly and rightfully flaunts.
In other words, as she sang, taking the stage to the title track from her latest album: “What’s wrong with being confident?”
Absolutely nothing. And she should be, with the talent she possesses and how far she’s come over the past decade.
But there’s also nothing wrong with putting on a show — not necessarily the spectacle some might demand from their pop stars, but at least a show that was more than merely exact replications of recorded versions of that material that inspires young women, young men to dance and, often, be their strong selves.
And as for those songs, she did nail them out, not mail them in, belting away on empowering material such as Neon Lights, For You, Body Say, Fix A Heart, Nightingale, Give Your Heart A Break and gorgeous versions of power ballad Stone Cold and Skyscraper, which featured Mr. Jonas on piano.
That was the majority of the interaction between the two during the fairly short, under two-hours they were collectively onstage, and it was almost entirely forced and forgettable.
Perhaps understandably. For this tour is awkwardly stuck in the middle of who and where they are now: friends and business partners, who understand how strong and profitable that connection to the past still is even if it holds them back from fully moving forward into their futures.
Producer, songwriter and performer Mike Posner kicked off the evening of pop to an almost painfully empty building.
Perhaps that’s why the artist, known for having had his hand in hits for everyone from Jonas, the Biebs and Maroon 5 to hip-hop names including Snoop Dogg, Nelly and TI, entered the room from the audience mid-bowl, walking the Dome’s stairs onto the penalty box boards, inciting the crowd to get on its feet and make some noise before he eventually took the stage and launched into Please Don’t Go.
To his credit, his efforts to get the smattering of attendees into what he was doing and his energy admirably didn’t waver throughout his briefish set.
It didn’t help that the sound was, as previously noted, muddy, and his equally as vivacious and seemingly excellent five-piece was swallowed up by the cavernous room — the sax, especially, was virtually indiscernible among the muck.
Posner has a gift and needs to cultivate something, a persona that’s big enough to fill the room and truly own it as well as his material does. Perhaps then he wouldn’t need the giant screen behind him to keep flashing: “The artist currently playing is named MIKE POSNER.”
We’d know. And we’d be there for exactly that reason. Maybe in the future.