Reclaiming the Soul

“No more pain, no more drama,” Mary J. Blige sang insistently and repeatedly at one point in her frequently rousing concert Wednesday at the Shrine Auditorium. “No more tears, I’m tired of crying.”

Those lines serve as the mantra for the woman whose songs about overcoming romantic betrayal and abuse once made her a revolutionary force in modern R&B.;

The New York singer-songwriter came onto the pop scene with such command and force a decade ago that fans and critics almost overnight dubbed her the Queen of Hip-Hop Soul.

The reason for the excitement was a debut album, “What’s the 411?,” that reflected much of the musical passion and sisterhood commentary that was identified in the ‘60s with Aretha Franklin, the original Queen of Soul.

The album came at a time when R&B; singers, male and female, had moved away from the rawness of soul music in favor of smoother, more controlled and, crucially, more pop-minded expositions. Blige didn’t just revive the old, bolder sentiments, she also mixed them with contemporary hip-hop sensibilities.

In the process, she became a voice of her generation and helped open a door for one of the most valuable and productive pop developments of recent years: the neo-soul movement that has given us such outstanding talents as Lauryn Hill, Jill Scott, Angie Stone and Alicia Keys.

With some of those peers now getting more attention and making more captivating music, Wednesday’s show (the first of two nights at the Shrine) gave Blige the opportunity to show she’s not passe.

After an energetic but routine opening set by R&B; singer Avant, more than a dozen of Blige’s band members, background singers and dancers filled the stage, raising the immediate fear that Blige was going to be smothered with a lot of razzle-dazzle.

The concern was heightened when Blige began singing behind a giant screen, which allowed her shadow to be projected in a way that made her seem 15 feet tall.

The sign of a diva-sized ego?

Hardly.

When Blige did step forward, she moved about the stage with the naturalness of a sister returning home, which was refreshing because that sense of sisterhood has always been inherent to her appeal.

Blige’s fans, one senses, don’t know just her songs, but also her story--about growing up in the projects, falling in with the wrong crowd, engaging in self-destructive behavior and abusive relationships.

The opening third of Wednesday’s set was a toast to romance’s innocence and promise. The songs were generally upbeat celebrations of real love--the kind that includes trust and respect.

Against the backdrop of Blige’s struggles to achieve that relationship (she now says she has found her soul mate), the songs carry a powerful, triumphant edge. Still, the sequence stretched too long, making the sentiments feel one-dimensional.

Things improved greatly in the evening’s second segment, which detailed the struggle of relationships in songs such as “Your Child” and “I’m Goin’ Down,” that speak about suffering and deception in striking and convincing terms.

You could feel her shaking off the ache of a hundred past wounds at the end of this segment, when she joyfully said, “Ain’t you sick and tired of being sick and tired.”

The night’s final portion dealt with facing reality and moving forward and it produced the evening’s most memorable moment.

While Blige was backstage changing her costume, a tape of her poem “Forever No More” was played over the sound system. The poem, from her current “No More Drama” album, is a summary statement of Blige’s own liberation and a salute to the inner peace that runs through much of the album. “Thank you God for setting me free,” she says. “And thank you God for giving me back me.”

When Blige returned to the stage, she was at the piano for the only time in the evening, playing the intro to “No More Drama,” which has become her signature song. Coming after the show’s downcast middle section, it was perfectly placed, and Blige sang it with a warm, rich, show-stopping spirit.

Though there are few overtly gospel elements in her music, there is a missionary zeal in her approach--the sense of someone who has found the promised land in her own life and believes it’s possible for others to follow her there.

Rather than be beaten down by life, Blige is a testimony to fighting back and getting stronger, and her continued ability to tell that story shows why her importance in the R&B; world hasn’t been diminished by time or the competition.