POP MUSIC REVIEW : ‘Shouts’ Were Out, Ballads Were In at Isley Brothers Show

Ronald Isley no longer wants to shout; he would much prefer to croon a languid bedroom tune.

Oh, the obligatory rousing finale Saturday night at the Celebrity Theatre included a few choruses of “Shout,” that grand old Isley Brothers party anthem from 1959. But Isley--now virtually a solo act despite the Isley Brothers billing (technically justified by the unprepossessing presence of younger sibling Marvin on bass)--has pretty much rejected the family’s rocking past in favor of his current persona as a seductive smoothie.

It is healthy, and natural, for anyone who has been musically prominent in five decades to go through changes. But it was disappointing to hear Isley, 48, all but ignore a fine legacy of high-energy R&B; classics that also includes such ‘60s hits as the original version of “Twist & Shout,” “This Old Heart of Mine” (currently enjoying a hit revival in a new duet version by Isley and Rod Stewart) and the singular funk explosion, “It’s Your Thing.”

These days, ballads are Isley’s thing, and who’s going to tell him who to sock it to--especially since his recent albums of lovers’ preludes have rewarded him with strong sales. But as his 65-minute set went from sigh to swoon, from coo to croon, with only marginal propulsive contrast in between, one wished that Isley would sock it to somebody .

For most of the audience, however, all this prelude-to-a-kiss stuff seemed to be just the thing. As Isley and his well-tempered band swung from one smooth number to the next, a cheer would greet each selection. Isley executed his smoochfest well, singing near the top of his range for much of the show in a reedy, mellifluous voice, and doing it with believable ardor. But unless a listener has a particular date-night purpose for wanting the mood to stay mellow and romantic (and the Isleys’ recent “Smooth Sailin’ ” and “Spend the Night” albums are nothing if not music with a purpose), it’s hard to surrender to so much sweet surrender.

“Take Me to the Next Phase” generated some decent funk, motivating Charlie Wilson of the Gap Band to jump on stage to do some rabble-rousing in his leather Zorro hat and long jacket. A snippet of “That Lady” freed guitarist Tony Maiden for some lively soloing (one wouldn’t have guessed from this show that before Jimi Hendrix became a star, he was a mid-’60s sideman for the Isleys).

And the finale, “Fight the Power” (not Public Enemy’s rap theme from “Do the Right Thing,” but an Isleys anti-authority funk-rock hit from 1975), turned into a firmly rocking medley that also included strands of “Shout” and “I Want to Take You Higher.”

But those moments didn’t come close to balancing a one-dimensional show. There is plenty of variety in the Isley Brothers’ 31-year catalogue. Too bad they hardly exploited it.

Angela Winbush’s opening set also was heavily slanted toward the elegant, shimmering romantic balladry of what is known as the “Quiet Storm” approach to R&B.; Thanks to Winbush’s exceptional voice, her version of the quiet storm was no dull drizzle. She was able to dip down to a deep, husky timbre not far removed from a blues singer’s lowdown snarl, or swoop up to stratospheric passages that resembled the line of an alternately darting and gliding soprano saxophone.

Winbush should have been more sparing of the vocal fireworks during a 75-minute set that included three duets with Ronald Isley (the two are a musical team of sorts, with Isley managing Winbush’s career, and Winbush having written and produced the two most recent Isley Brothers albums). Song after song was extended with long vamps full of wide-ranging vocal calisthenics. Just one or two such showy departures would have done the trick.

Winbush lost some of the drama of her excellent, gospel-flavored song “I Have Learned to Respect the Power of Love” (a show-stopping hit a few years ago for Stephanie Mills) by extending it beyond the breaking point. It is always a pleasure to hear a remarkable voice in action, but strong material, which Winbush has, can lose its clout when it becomes a mere launching pad for showy singing.

Actually, not enough of the show was showing. This was one of those not-infrequent times when the Celebrity’s in-the-round, revolving stage setup was a real drawback. A concert built on ballads needs to be seen as well as heard: To get the full impact, one needs to read the singer’s face and movements. But half the time, Isley and Winbush were hidden behind the clutter of the 11-member band that took up about three-fourths of the stage.

Putting the band in a stage-side orchestra pit is an option at the Celebrity, but in Isley and Winbush’s music (as in most non-orchestral pop), interaction between singer and band is also important. All in all, though, using the pit would have been the smarter compromise.