Rickie Lee Jones’ Real People Are at Lingerie

Rickie Lee Jones scanned the crowd near the Club Lingerie stage after her first number in the first of two shows there Thursday, hoping to see some non-familiar (i.e., non-”industry”) faces in the footlights. “I was hoping very much that some real people got in, ‘cause I was trying to figure out who bought the tickets,” she said earnestly, beaming that Cheshire Cat grin as the whoops and hollers told her the folks wuz real.

It’s not easy for a star of Jones’ magnitude to put on a “Saloon Tour” (so deemed in honor of her recent “Flying Cowboys” album)--one that hits only nine cities and includes almost exclusively club dates, the exception being this Monday’s Wiltern show--and get the relatively few dance cards available into the hands of the cowpokes rather than the cattle barons, as it were. Amazingly, it seems to have worked.

Not that this was a downscale crowd. Jones’ most devoted fans may be those lost souls who live out their bohemianism vicariously through her jivey, jazzy, soulful music. Forget the Western similes that have been cropping up in Jones’ metaphoric saddle for a moment: The theme song for this evening, and for many fans’ identification, would surely be the slow, buoyant, urban funkiness of “Ghetto of My Mind,” a good representation of just how Jones takes listeners to a looser landscape they may never know. Even as a settled-down mom, she still makes a great, cosmic conduit to The Street.

Swigging bottled water and full of offhand comments, Jones seemed quite cheerful on this stop, trotting out oldies like “Chuck E.’s in Love” without provocation in the midst of a set that included most of the “Cowboys” material. Her six-man band--which provided occasional trumpet or cello in addition to the basics--proved as tight and full of good, subtle licks as would be expected of any of her congregates, if it’s far from the most fiery unit she’s toured with. It’s hard for any Jones show to live up to its celebratory potential without a full horn section, but this one had its grooves.

Anyone who’s seen a rare Jones solo show (as if any kind of Jones show hasn’t been a rarity) probably treasures those moments most of all, and the best ones at the Lingerie came with the slow buildup and quiet denouement. Before settling into more upbeat material, she took her sweet time getting the pace going, nicely concentrating on such low-key numbers as “Rodeo Girl,” “Coolsville,” “Night Train” and her signature masterpiece, “We Belong Together.”

At performance’s end, she sang “Autumn Leaves” with just piano and upright bass, assuring those who might not have known that, at heart and in spirit, she really is a phenomenal jazz singer. The show could have used more such intimate reminders, but even in a reggae number or a near-samba, Jones is always playing with the phrasing, suggesting weeping, giggling or bravado with the slightest slur or vocal distortion or octave change. It goes without saying that there’s no saloon singer like her.

All of Jones’ shows, including appearances Sunday at the Ventura Theatre and Monday at the Wiltern, are sold out.