R Kelly / United Center, Chicago, Illinois, USA
Homecoming of the American King
Words Danna Hawley
Witness the spectacle of a wanted man touching his people and rising from a hole.
In the morning of this homecoming show, Chicago collectively sighed with relief when the Tribune headline read: “Judge lets R Kelly show go on.” Three days prior The R’s tour buses were pulled over for speeding in Utah and ordered to stop for a mandatory 10 hours. His court date in Chicago (the perpetually postponed - almost six years now - child pornography case) the next morning was consequently missed. If he didn’t turn up to court the morning after that - the day before the show - Kells was facing arrest. Thank fuck he was 15 minutes early.
And so, as I walk into the United Center (home of the Chicago Bulls), a sense of gratitude unifies the crowd. I side step a man in a three-piece electric blue suit and see a spotlight on an unrecognisable singer randomly belting out ‘The Star Spangled Banner’. The house lights come on and reveal a stage decked out like a boxing ring, complete with patriotic red/white/blue ropes. A booming voice chants “THE CHAMP IS HERE!” on loop and two grinning ladies in glittery bikinis hold up posters that say the same. R Kelly emerges rocking a glitter jacket that reads, appropriately, ‘THE CHAMP’. Wild pyrotechnic explosions lead into an equally explosive all-star medley of his supporting hooks (‘That’s That’,” ‘Hotel’, ‘Gigolo’, ‘I’m Fucking You Tonight’) and his undeniable artillery of No.1 hits (‘Tryin’ To Get A Number’, ‘Fiesta’, ‘Snake’).
Top three moments at this R’n’B circus:
1. After swinging his belt above his head like a lasso, R disappears off-stage. His silhouette is beamed onto screens and he begins stripping - first his hat, then his jacket, shirt, jeans, boxers. While he undresses, he sings about loneliness and how he much he needs to “get up out of here and touch somebody”.
2. During ‘The Zoo’, the music stops and women in jungle/cat outfits fill the stage, flinging their limbs around in bizarre tribal dances. They tie Kells up and ceremoniously dance around him until the queen emerges on her throne. He pleads for mercy, but to no avail - the tribeswomen throws him into a hole. The women continue dancing for six minutes (I counted) and then R suddenly rises from the hole, donning a lush fur coat and yelling, “I’m the American KING!” It’s like the Lion King Broadway show, on crack and Hennessy.
3. A lengthy interlude reminiscent of a Charlie Chaplin movie: big Wurlitzer melodies tinkle while Kells and two girls hopelessly over-act, as if they are mimes in a silent film. The organ refrains transition into an orchestral adaptation of Beethoven’s Third and R conducts an invisible orchestra over a massive old-fashioned music stand. On the last note, white doves fly out of his sleeves up to the rafters.
During the grand finale - a medley of steppin’ classics and Christmas songs - confetti falls from the ceiling. Combine moments like that with his feel-good, patriotic songs (‘I Wish’, ‘The World’s Greatest’) and it’s no wonder his little PR slip-ups (like the most recent - turns out he was banging his publicist’s teenage daughter) go unnoticed.
