POP MUSIC REVIEW : In a Struggle of the Musical Spirit, Amy Grant Tries to Define Herself

Everybody knows that Amy Grant identifies with the Gospel Jesus. But in a mostly enjoyable though fractured concert Saturday night at the Pacific Amphitheatre in Costa Mesa, the country’s leading Christian pop singer also seemed to have a lot in common with the fictional Jesus of Martin Scorsese’s film “The Last Temptation of Christ”--an uncertain, very human figure, struggling to define an identity and articulate it to others.

Is Grant the splendid showwoman whose engaging humor, good nature and lively presence established an uncommon bond with her audience early in the 2-hour show? Or is she the less assured performer who allowed her personality to be obscured later by second-rate, overamplified rock material that she is ill-suited to sing?

Was Grant the magician who had the packed house swaying and singing together in luminous moments of community? Or was she the negligent star who disappeared for four songs in the middle of the show?

(Grant let her husband, singer Gary Chapman, take over for a disruptive segment that should have been relegated to the sort of opening-act slot given another of her backing musicians, keyboardist Michael W. Smith. By the time Grant returned, the concert’s cohesiveness was gone, and she never re-established it. In another unfortunate exercise of spousal prerogative, Chapman’s bass often boomed obtrusively in the sound mix.)

Was Grant the charitable soul who used the stage as a pulpit to promote the work of Habitat for Humanity, a hands-on group that builds homes for poor people?

Or, by putting in a spoken plug for her corporate sponsor, was she paying wrongheaded tribute to the money-changers who have become so firmly planted in pop’s temple? (The two big logo banners hanging in the amphitheater should have been exposure enough, without Grant having to mouth corporate kudos besides.)

Long established as a Christian performer with evangelistic aims, Grant more recently has aspired to appeal to the pop mainstream. She avoided preaching between songs, offering instead folksy warmth and self-effacing humor. In an engaging introduction to “1974,” a song about her religious awakening, she even joked about how a teen-age crush, rather than any keen spiritual yearning, first brought her to church.

Grant let the lyrics of her explicitly Christian songs speak for themselves; she by no means downplayed her Christian beliefs, but the show skirted dogmatism. The only commandment she issued was: “Dance your brains out.”

After “Emmanuel,” a stately, marching religious hymn that featured excellent multiple harmonies from her strong, 9-member band, it appeared that Grant’s moment to preach had arrived. She stood silent for a long while, taking in the evening’s most enthusiastic applause. With eyes closed and a beatific look on her face, Grant resembled a preacher soaking up inspiration from the flock, momentarily to be returned in a display of eloquence.

But instead of sermonizing, Grant simply led the audience in a lovely a cappella rendering of the Christmas carol “O Come All Ye Faithful,” a song familiar and comfortable for believers and non-believers alike.

There was no obvious schism between Grant’s own religious songs and her secular (but still spiritually informed) songs of love and self-evaluation. She drew heavily upon her current album, “Lead Me On,” which shows a newfound willingness to look at the more painful aspects of human experience, rather than focusing only on the rewards of faith. Grant was at her strongest while expressing inner conflict and troubled yearnings, often resorting to a Kim Carnes-style huskiness to convey a sense of struggle.

Still, there remains something superficial in Grant’s darker songs: Although she has plenty of catchy hymns of praise and forceful anthems of optimistic faith, she has yet to probe deeply into the anguished, doubt-ridden side of spiritual life (for that, see such masters as Van Morrison, Peter Townshend, Bob Dylan and Robbie Robertson).

That probably didn’t bother the segment of Grant’s audience that would rather be uplifted by her stauncher declarations of faith. Early in the show, “Saved by Love” brought one of the night’s first clear religious invocations. When Grant sang, “It makes me love Jesus more,” her use of the J-word sent a discernible ripple of approval through the crowd.

It would have been nice if Grant could have built a continuously unfolding concert that reflected the cyclical ebb and flow of the spirit, a repeated, tidal movement between doubt and fulfillment, darkness and joy. But those problems with pacing, with that lack of convincing darker material and with her failed attempt at hard rock, sidetracked her in the amphitheater’s season-ending show.

If Grant resolves her stylistic uncertainty (leaving the harder stuff to Stryper, one hopes) and continues the growth and broadened awareness evident on her latest album, she may yet deliver future concerts full of charm, interdenominational appeal and maybe even amazing grace.