Rev. Green Wanders Too Far

The Rev. Al Green’s concert Saturday night traced a wide arc from the transcendent to the slightly goofy. Playing to a half-full house at the 2,500-seat Celebrity Theatre, the soul-singer-turned-gospel-preacher perhaps unwittingly demonstrated the difficulty of reconciling his responsibilities as a minister with the continuity requisites of live musical performance.

There were early indications that this would be a problematical presentation. Green and his entourage arrived late and were doing sound checks at 8 p.m.--the concert’s scheduled starting time. Because no admittance was allowed during this process, security personnel held the nattily dressed, racially diverse, well-behaved mob of fans outside the building until 8:30.

The concert itself began more auspiciously with an excellent if brief set by Higher Dimension, a local chorus of four women and three men. To a recorded backing track, the group sang modern, sharply creased arrangements of religious tunes somewhat in the style of Take 6, but with more emphasis on unison vocalizing.

Higher Dimension was followed by the L.A. Mass Choir, a 30-voice assemblage backed by a crack 6-piece band. This was high-energy, contemporary gospel at its most kinetic, featuring alternating lead vocalists and exhilarating ensemble singing arranged in the crisp, percussive mode of the well-known Walter Hawkins Love Center Choir.

As good as they were, the L.A. Mass Choir generated only a lukewarm response, possibly because they overstayed their welcome by singing for more than an hour. It was after 10:30 p.m. when Green made his appearance.

Due to the venue’s theater-in-the-round configuration, Green had to approach the stage by parading down one of the aisles with his attendants, in the manner of a prizefighter. The singer made a stunning entrance resplendent in an all-white suit that the spotlight rendered as radiant as a neon moon. But in frequently stopping to accept the hugs, kisses, and handshakes of his fans, Green foreshadowed the major flaw of his concert.

Perhaps the minister found the easy access to the audience an irresistible temptation, because he spent much of the first selection venturing up various aisles to embrace his followers. He got the second song, “In the Holy Name of Jesus,” off to a rollicking start before once again leaving the microphone to take roses into the audience, where he was swarmed over by adoring females.

When Green focused on the business at hand, the results were spectacular. Backed by a 10-piece band that included the original Memphis Horns and a drummer borrowed from the Bar-Kays, Green--who turned 45 last month--roused the crowd from its earlier lethargy with a stirring performance of the mid-tempo gospel-funk song, “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright.”

Moving gracefully from the tense, compressed delivery that is his trademark to a resonant baritone growl, from cauterizing high notes to whisper-soft entreaties, Green demonstrated the soulful mastery that made him one of the dominant performers of the early ‘70s.

But just at the point where the audience’s idolatrous response promised to lift the show above the ordinary, Green would turn down the flame. A good start on the traditional “Amazing Grace,” for example, dissolved into tepid chaos when Green motioned for the audience to finish the hymn without him.

“Some of you people were there 20 years ago when I sang this,” said Green at one point before singing the opening line of “Let’s Stay Together,” his No. 1 R&B-pop; hit of 1971. He followed with several more teasing snippets of his popular secular songs, including “Tired of Being Alone” and “I’m Still in Love with You.”

With each recognized bit of lyric, the audience went nuts, but each time Green abruptly quelled the excitement. Throughout the show, the singer would maddeningly toy with pacing as though it were fishing filament--letting it run slack, then reeling it in tight.

“I don’t care how many Grammy Awards, or Doberman pinschers, or credit cards you have,” he preached. “If you don’t have a man named Jesus you don’t have nothing.” Green’s platitudes were enthusiastically received by those who came to hear this pastor of a Memphis congregation, less so by those who came to hear the R&B; hits.

“People keep asking me why I don’t miss the fortune and fame,” he offered late in the show. “I tell them once Jesus comes into your heart you don’t think about yourself anymore.” He then contradicted himself by roaming the auditorium in search of reassuring hugs and kisses.

It was Green’s inability or unwillingness to contain himself to the stage area that eventually drained the show of all momentum. Cooking versions of “Jesus Will Fix It,” “The Lord Will Make a Way” and even an abbreviated “Let’s Stay Together” were ruined by Green’s incessant and increasingly lengthy side trips, during which he usually lost track of his microphone. It was almost midnight when Green got to his show-closer--a feverish cover of Otis Redding’s “(Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay.” By that time, many people had walked out.

A video crew recorded the erratic program for future sale. One’s sympathies are extended to the poor soul who is left to edit the pieces of this puzzle into a compelling concert video.