Promises Fulfilled

Already a beloved influence on everyone from the current crop of R&B; crooners to such alternative rockers as the Afghan Whigs, the 55-year-old Barry White has seen his soul-icon status rise even higher recently, thanks to recurring appearances on TV’s “Ally McBeal.”

Though he didn’t mention the show on Tuesday at the Arrowhead Pond in Anaheim, where he shared the bill with Earth, Wind & Fire, White encored with the “theme song” for Peter MacNicol’s character, his 1974 hit “You’re the First, the Last, My Everything,” much to the delight of the racially mixed, mostly over-30 audience.

Offering tunes that spanned his quarter-century career, White was about as humble as a jumbo-sized messenger of love in an iridescent silver suit with almost 30 people behind him could be--which, in this case, was unfailingly so. His deep, deep voice was in fine, seductive form, if too often slightly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of his well-oiled Love Unlimited Orchestra.

In the face of the aggressive lewdness of such modern-day crooners as R. Kelly, White’s gentle yet insistent libido-stroking seemed positively chivalrous. The goal was exactly the same: to get some. Yet in his hourlong set of timeless mood-setters, White’s songs never humiliated the object of his affection nor engaged in narcissistic self-gratification. Instead, they focused on making a woman feel comfortable and special, and perhaps a bit naughty, as when he crooned “Baby, I’m Gonna Do What I Do to You, Baby” (or whatever) with almost hypnotic anticipation.

So it was odd that out of all the love songs he didn’t write, White chose to sing Billy Joel’s 1977 hit “Just the Way You Are.” White’s bedroom stylings were wasted on this sappy reassurance that all a woman needs to do to please her man is stay exactly the same for her entire life. Like, what’s that got to do with getting down?

Deepening the evening’s positive groove, Earth, Wind & Fire burst into its 1975 hit “Shining Star” right off the bat. Colorfully clad and relentlessly high-energy, the 12-member group danced and spun and revved up the fans in its show-closing set with a living jukebox of golden oldies.

Philip Bailey put his falsetto to good use, wowing the crowd with impossible high notes, but the effect was grating after a while, and even his pyrotechnics couldn’t disguise the lyrical slightness and trite mysticism of such tunes as “Serpentine Fire.” As far as the audience was concerned, however, the groove was what mattered, what they wanted, and what they definitely got.