By the time you read this, J and I will be on our way home from New York, where we spent a 5-day weekend celebrating our 1-year anniversary, the dear friends we have in the area, the fact that Daniel Craig and Hugh Jackman are on Broadway and the show I never thought I'd be able to see: Kylie Minogue in North America!
The video quality is about what you'd expect for a concert, but dude! She sang while dancers were holding her above their heads in a split! That's a level of showmanship (and athleticism!) that I can only genuflect before.
I've been a Kylie fan for years now, but I came to The Church of Kylie relatively late in Our Lady of The Insured Kiester's career. My first Kylie album was Fever; I had to go into the back catalog to discover the wonder that was Light Years.
J and I went to the Monday night show, while my beloved friend Gabriel caught Sunday's show. Since we heard of her tour in early summer, Gabriel and I have been "squee!"ing to each other over Facebook. He posted a set list from her Oakland show last week, so I was able to put together an iTunes playlist for concert preparation.
And as I listened to her signature brand of dance-pop, I realized part of what makes Kylie so special: there's a fundamental sweetness to her musical persona. Even when she's singing about sex, there's nothing sleazy about it; it's all vague wantings and desirings. She'll lick her lips, but it's with a smile rather than a pornulated pout.
Plus, you get the sense from listening to her songs that she'd be so much fun to be around, that she'd make as good a friend as a lover, if not better (Kylie's musical persona has a history of broken relationships, I'm afraid).
Now, I realize that all of this is part of her job as an international pop star and gay icon. But Her Holiness does that job better than just about anyone else on the planet. That's what makes her divine.
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