Transcription:
SHE’S GOING TO CHANGE HER CLOTHES
OUTFITS: LEATHER PANTS AND COAT, SHINY TOP, LOW CUT / ACT 2: “PRIVATE DANCER” OUTFIT: Yellow spanish [sic] mini dress, pink sash, which she used for everything.
In my loud bouquet of divas to worship, Tina Turner is like a hot-orange Callandria. The florist of my life placed my Tina stalk in front of Streisand and next to Dietrich and Aretha, leaving Joplin on the table until he could find a place for her in the arrangement.
I went (alone!) to see her when she came to the Royal Oak (MI) Music Theatre in 1984 or 1985. My mom must have dropped me off and picked me up at the concert, because I wasn’t old enough to drive.
I have a souvenir tour book here in front of me, because I wanted to check the wording, but I would’ve remembered verbatim:
“Tina Turner does not smother a song in lipgloss a la Diana Ross” (Ouch! Take that, Miss Ross!) “nor does she give it the sanctified treatment of an Aretha Franklin…” (Had to go look up “sanctified” in the dictionary…) “No, her preferred technique is to slam into a song with the several megatons of natural energy at her disposal and send the whole shooting match careening over the top at the highest speed available.” (Whooo!)
“And all sort of spotty” (Had to look this up, too) “white boys sitting in London and gazing wistfully into the mirror listened to her and loved her and almost wished that they could be her” (Wait, what do you mean, “almost”? What does that mean? Why did he put “almost”?) “because what is a Jagger or a Stewart if not a would-be Tina Turner?”
Tina, who of course is tiny like all famous, had on her trademark fright wig, and the curious slip of paper above, well, it describes her costume changes, doesn’t it? I don’t remember why I wrote this. I guess so I could share it with you 25 years later?
This was a small venue, and I sat in the front row, so I was able to shake her hand (it was sweaty) at the edge of the stage at the end. The amps were so loud my head was shaking and I was terrified I would suffer permanent hearing loss. So before she went on I had tried to switch to an empty seat farther away, but a large black gentleman* returned from the concessions stand with drinks for his lady friends and said “Excuse you” to me.
Mortified, I scurried back to my eardrum-busting location, torn between my auditive distress and the thrills of Tina. Eventually I forgot about the former and gave in to the latter.
*This audience was not here because of Private Dancer. This was a predominately black crowd who had been her fans for years, before she crossed over to mainstream pop and became accessible to pasty white suburban boys with a penchant for divas.
That’s how I know this was an earlier show than the official Private Dancer Tour, which stopped in Detroit about a month after Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome came out. I also went to that concert, at Joe Louis Arena. So I saw Tina Turner live twice in one year. Before I could drive.
HERE IS A PERFORMANCE I DID BASED IN PART ON THE ABOVE STORY:
Tags: Joe Louis Arena, Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, Private Dancer, Royal Oak Music Theatre, Tina Turner
