D’Arby the Dazzler

Terence Trent D’Arby walked on stage at the sold-out California Theatre here Wednesday night a question mark, but he left every bit a star.

For anyone who has followed D’Arby’s spectacular rise in recent months, that result may seem all too predictable.

After all, this London-based American artist who combines the dazzling vocal conviction of Sam Cooke and the seductive performance tease of Mick Jagger, is one of the most talked about newcomers in pop in years.

His “Wishing Well” single went to No. 1 last week and Rolling Stone, notoriously conservative when it comes to new arrivals, is scheduled to anoint him with a cover story shortly.

To many, this tour--D’Arby’s first, following a few warm-up dates in New York and Los Angeles--was supposed to be simply a series of coronations: Long live the new star!

But there was a trap lurking.

As much as pop fans love to cheer new heroes, they have also learned to be wary of false hopes. The excitement stirred by D’Arby in the press and on record helps sell tickets (his concerts Thursday and tonight at the Hollywood Palladium were also sold out).

But that hoopla also raises enormous expectations--and the atmosphere at the California Theatre was as much one of trial as celebration.

In his case, the challenge may have been compounded by the brash, seemingly arrogant statements he made last year in England as part of a deliberate campaign to grab attention. Beyond a much quoted “I am a genius” line, D’Arby also claimed that his debut album was better than the Beatles’ universally admired “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” LP.

Clearly, a large share of the crowd Wednesday came to cheer D’Arby. There was lots of shrieking when he walked on stage, looking every bit the hot new pop sensation in his jeans, black leather jacket, black cap and dark glasses.

But there were also doubters.

Though fans in the rear of the theater and in the balcony were dancing by their seats as D’Arby and his six-piece band (plus two male backup singers) opened with a version of the Rolling Stones’ lively “Jumpin’ Jack Flash,” rows of people down front remained seated. They looked like judges at a diving competition, studying each move before casting a verdict.

Perhaps having encountering the same reaction at other shows, D’Arby took the offensive midway through the second number. Tossing off the jacket, hat and glasses that suggest an aloof image, D’Arby stopped the song and paced the stage for a few seconds, pushing back his braided hair defiantly. Then, looking at those in the front rows, he said that seats are for people who attend the opera--not rock ‘n’ roll.

“You can do what you want,” he continued. “But I know I came to dance .”

That intimidation was enough to get the audience down front to stand up--but it took more than that to actually get them moving.

D’Arby proceeded from the covers (he followed “Flash” with some James Brown) to his own material, which ranges from a silky, sensual update of Motown pop-soul to a more gritty and personalized form of contemporary blues.

Things moved along reasonably enough, but not in the show-stopping way necessary to meet the high expectations. Just when the judges down front seemed ready to cast lukewarm verdicts, D’Arby began relying less on his dance steps and stark persona for impact. He concentrated on what he does best: singing.

Catching the crowd’s attention with an especially passionate delivery of “Seven More Days,” D’Arby sprang into “Wishing Well,” making the song even more playful and unpredictable than the record version.

Loosening up more with each succeeding number, D’Arby also showed a flair for involving showmanship as he acted out both ends of an imaginary phone call to a disgruntled lover. When the woman demands that he get on his knees to apologize for his misdeeds, D’Arby looked sternly at the crowd and said, living up to every wrinkle of his arrogant, macho-accented reputation, “I don’t do that. I’m a man!”

When the woman called his bluff, D’Arby looked at the audience for a long, teasing moment--then fell dramatically to his knees in an endearing expression of vulnerability as he sang a scorching rendition of Sam Cooke’s gut-wrenching “Bring It on Home to Me.”

Before he was through with the sequence, D’Arby also worked in a couple of snippets of early Elvis Presley hits (“Trouble” and “Heartbreak Hotel”) to underscore the conversion from hard-boiled to sensitive. It was a wonderfully inventive and disarming routine--far beyond anything displayed in his striking, but somewhat static appearance last year at the Palace in Hollywood.

During the encore, D’Arby showed additional wit and warmth. One good-natured tale about talking to God for permission to be a rocker was much too close to an old Bruce Springsteen routine for comfort, but his general mood--including sweet, wishful a cappella versions of “Young at Heart,” an old Frank Sinatra hit, “I’ll Be There,” the Jackson Five ballad-- was one of a true rock ‘n’ roll celebrant.

Back with the band, D’Arby, who plays guitar on a few numbers, brought the show to a dizzy and joyous conclusion with the Stones’ “Under My Thumb,” stripping off his shirt and drawing more screams--even from the dancing fans in the front row.

There are, to be sure, questions left about D’Arby’s future, most of them tied to the matter of songs for the second album, but Wednesday’s show was a triumphant answer to the main question surrounding this tour. D’Arby--”Sgt. Pepper” quote aside--is every bit as good as he has said he is.