On the weekend, Rachelle and I were in Detroit to see k.d. Lang perform at the MotorCity Casino. I guess it’s fair to say that the show wasn’t all that well attended. Rachelle was pretty clearly the youngest person there and the crowd was overwhelmingly white, slightly older than middle-aged and full of women who looked like they played competitive hockey or softball.
Sitting beside me were a couple of women who had driven five hours from Wheeling, Ohio to see the show. Holding a large, plastic cup of beer in her hand as if she was at a Tiger’s game, Terry said, “This will be the fourth time I’ve seen her. Five hours is nothing. I would have driven 15 hours—there’s nobody like k.d.” Her girlfriend leaned in over her shoulder and nodded her head at me, adding, “It’s true, it’s true. You’re going to love the show.”
They were right.
On stage Lang is simultaneously ironic and sincere, in possession of a fearlessness and confidence that she pours right in to her receptive audience. Her voice is a wonder, the sort of thing that gives one pause and forces consideration of divinity– as if for reasons unknown a presiding spirit touched her with a vocal genius that would ever elude the rest of us. Watching, she reminded me of an oracle, an entity that defied categories of gender and who by turn and flash of light, appeared masculine or luminously, mystically feminine. In another age she would have been burned or worshipped as a God.
In Detroit, she was simply adored.
The embodiment of a single-combat hero for a generation of women, the power and self-assurance of her persona– the complete absence of uncertainty– seemed to be helping the audience imagine better, idealized versions of themselves. A kind of alchemy was taking place, and for 90 minutes the crowd was celebrating in who they were and who they might yet become, free now from all the battles they might have confronted as young, gay women growing up in the States in the 1970s.
At one point in the show I looked behind us and saw two black women near 60, the only black people in the crowd, I think. Both of them– looking like they had dressed for church– had their hands pressed to their lips as if in wonder or prayer, and tears glistening in their eyes. It was a holy moment, I think. With Lang’s voice rising so clearly, it felt like we were all in a cathedral rather than a casino. Looking about, everybody seemed so lost to the voice that it was impossible to know to what point they might have been transported, or what healing they had been looking for in this pilgrimage to MotorCity in the first place.
Comments
8 responses to “k.d. Lang at MotorCity Casino in Detroit”
Good lord, J. Michael Murray… you have captured the essence of Ms. Lang and described her stage presence in a wonderfully perfect manner. As a country radio program director, it was an uphill and (eventually) losing battle to get her music on my station. The owner was an old conservative oilman from Texas and he would “have no mention of that ugly bulldog dyke on” HIS by god radio station. I have and will support her for as long as she takes the stage. She is a rare gift, a treasure to all and a symbol of hope for so many.
Thank you, so much.
Good man Miller:
I thank you most kindly, and I have to say that the show, using both what is real and false in revivalist church events, had it’s own kind of sanctity and congregation. It was secular, of course, but it was a spiritual kind of home for many who had likely felt marginalized in the their lives–as Lang said, it was a safe zone for freaks of all kind, a place absent of haters.
She’s been my favourite for years and years. The first time I heard her, I thought she sounded like an angel, and, I mean. I am not a person of angels.
I’m glad you got to hear her live, and that you enjoyed it.
Melodie:
Thanks! And you should know that when I bought a glass of wine at the concert it was served to me in a beer-sized plastic cup, full to the brim, so you know, that was pretty awesome, too!
Your comments about K.D. Lang reminded me of another Canadian icon, Joni Mitchell. Both are amazing talents, and both have that confidence and fearlessness to break new ground, since they have absolutely no doubt of their abilities.
In some ways it may seem like extreme arrogance, but ya gotta be tough to break through the barriers. They both have what it takes. In spades.
Motor city was the first time I saw k d in person, and yes, for me it was a spiritual experience. Her voice comes directly from the angels. I fell in love last Thursday night and I will never be the same.
She’s always fabulous. Saw her a year or so ago at a Luminato show in Toronto. In fact we went to the show immediately after hearing Jeanette Winterson read from her new memoir. “Is anybody going to see k.d. lang after this,” she said enthusiastically at one point. “I am.” Not to nit-pick so fine a blog, Michael, but it is lower-case k.d. I might have joked that she must be the spiritual daughter of e.e. Cummings, except it’s others who lower-cased e.e. cummings name. His signature clearly read E. E. Cummings.
Master Hayes:
I had no idea that other people lower-cased e.e. cummings name.
Funny, that.
Do you have any idea why k.d. Lang chose to lower-case her first initials? I’m sure she’s explained it many times and it’s likely just a Google search away, but I ask you because you know things. You have a fine brain there, David, and I thank you for using it and occasionally turning it’s attention to my blog. Without it, I would continue in my sloppy ways, always capitalizing k.d. Lang’s name and never knowing that e.e. cummings was an affectation applied by other people, so sincerely, thank you for that.
k.d. Lang has a truly sublime voice, a voice that very literally works a kind of magic on her audience. She’s a fantastic woman, I think, truly great, and Calling All Angels is a song that always takes my breath away.