The purple one runs hot, cold but always preachy at United Center
When: 8 p.m. Wednesday Where: United Center, 1901 W. Madison Tickets: $39-$162 Info: (800) 745-3000; ticketmaster.com musical medicine man. “These are hard times, and they’re gonna get harder. I don’t need to be here; I want to be here.” Earlier, as he was getting the party started, he instructed the sold-out crowd to “take your mind off all the problems outside.”
Not hard to do when presented such extremes of impressive showmanship and puzzling oddity.
Throughout a two-hour show Monday night, Prince, his fivepiece band, his three backup singers (who sang a lot more than backup), his 11-piece horn section and his in-the-round, Prince symbol-shaped stage jumped to a nearly nonstop beat. His multitasking as bandleader, singer and all too infrequent guitarist resulted in an erratic show, one that eventually boiled over with energy and gusto — and then went suddenly cool.
Wearing a half-white, half-black suit and high-heeled boots, Prince did his best James Brown (or Cab Calloway) — that balancing act between singing and dancing at centerstage while still controlling every heave and ho of the band, as if each player were a tightly stringed marionette. The slightest flick of his wrist brought the drummer down on his snare; a sharp, sidelong glance shifted them all into the next song. He ran crowd control, too, constantly shouting for the house lights to come up so he could see the crowd — or, really, so the crowd could be seen, so we’d sing when he said to sing (“Raspberry Beret”) and clap when he said to clap (“Musicology”).
Audience participation was a high priority on this royal’s agenda — because he wasn’t doing much else. Starting off with some fancy footwork, Prince devolved into a cheerleader sashaying from side to side, ignoring his guitar and his piano. He finally strapped on the guitar for the third act and “Take Me With U,” but he wasn’t feeling it. The sound was muddy, it didn’t last. He even ceded the instrumental solo in “Purple Rain” to one of the sax players.
Reminding us frequently of the breadth of his catalog — “There’s too many hits!” he boasted three