POP MUSIC REVIEW : Vandross Gently Turns Up the Heat

In a way, the two leading Luthers in black pop follow a similar premise: their songs are designed to stir hormones into action.

Opening a sold-out stand of six concerts at the Celebrity Theatre on Thursday night, Luther Vandross fessed up to the fact that his music is aimed at spurring steamy thoughts and deeds.

“See, the love songs, they work,” the affable singer told his audience, virtually all of whom were stylishly turned out and above the age of consent. “I know what you all are going to do when you leave here tonight. I plan on doing a little of it myself.”

Authorities in South Florida have held that the other Luther--Luther Campbell, leader of the notorious rap group 2 Live Crew--is breaking the law by performing songs with an overall intent similar to that of Vandross: appeal to an audience’s interest in sex.

Of course, methodology, terminology and attitude make all the difference, artistically if not constitutionally.

When Campbell brought his act to the Celebrity last year, his show was an embarrassment. The 2 Live Crew’s filth-stained raps reduced sex to an exploitative, mechanistic linkage ofbody parts. Campbell’s puerile raps were nothing that should be banned in a society that values free speech, but they eminently deserved to be ignored.

While Vandross’ music also is geared to serve as prelude to more than a kiss, the aphrodisiac he offers is romantic love, not raw sex. His show Thursday was a gentle and suave seduction delivered by one of the most accomplished and purely listenable male voices on the current pop scene.

Vandross has an ideal voice for delivering the big romantic statement. It is smooth, flexible and effortless, capable of fluttering aloft to convey rising passion, or dropping deep down in a display of husky ardor. Like fine, polished mahogany, Vandross’ voice has a well-defined grain to it, giving his singing exceptional body, contrast and warmth.

It seems the only limit Vandross has is one of temperament, not talent. He is disposed toward suave romance, when something more raucous and rocking, something hot-blooded, funky, and explosively physical, can make a show take off. None of that was forthcoming at the Celebrity, at least not from Vandross. Backup singer Ava Cherry’s sassy reheating of “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” was the show’s only brief burst of high-energy soul. When everything seemed primed for a rousing close, Vandross could do no better than a mildly rhythmic hit, “Never Too Much.”

Within his limits, though, Vandross was able to unfold a reasonably well-paced 90-minute show that included enough songs of briskly percolating rhythm to keep the set from becoming bogged down with ballads.

Ballads, though, formed the center of the show’s appeal. Vandross connected with fervent readings of two melancholy standards, Leon Russell’s “Superstar” and the Burt Bacharach and Hal David composition “A House Is Not a Home.” Like most of his songs, Vandross gave them extended, unhurried treatments in which the song itself became a departure point for a good deal of vocal vamping.

While Vandross could profitably have pared down some of those elongated numbers, his passages of note-stretching, word-contorting display were not the forced attempts to dazzle that often crop up among accomplished pop-R&B; singers. As he extended songs, Vandross did not lose sight of their emotional point. Rather than trying to grandstand and oversing, he would stay under control and successfully hold a song’s mood amid his embellishments. However, Vandross was too fond of gimmicky echo effects, resorting several times to an electronic delay treatment that allowed him almost to duet with himself.

After playing arenas on previous tours, Vandross adjusted to the intimacy of the 2,500-seat, in-the-round theater with mostly apt staging that brought some lavish, big-venue touches to the smaller setting. With an effective, understated band confined to the orchestra pit, stage smoke and swirling lights bathed the entire stage at key moments, underscoring the romantic drama.

On the other hand, three backup singer-dancers sometimes drew attention away from Vandross. Early in the show, they glided about in pose-striking simulated slow-motion that would have been more appropriate to a modeling runway than a concert stage. The choreography made more sense when the dancers moved in place at their microphones, Motown style. The idea might have been to create some visual excitement around Vandross, who isn’t exactly a Magic Johnson (an attendee at this show) when it comes to floor moves. But a lot of the dance bits were corny or obvious play-acting. At his best, the trim-looking Vandross, who appeared to be winning his up-and-down fight to keep his weight under control, walked the stage alone, and held the eye through the force of the romantic ardor in his singing.