All hail the Queen of Soul

One big reason Aretha Franklin fans were so excited to see the Queen of Soul’s first Los Angeles concert in 21 years Friday at the Greek Theatre was to hear her landmark renditions of such tunes as “Respect” and “A Natural Woman (You Make Me Feel Like)” again live.

The anticipation of revisiting that ‘60s era was heightened when some early Motown hits, including the Marvelettes’ “Please Mr. Postman,” were played over the sound system before the show. Franklin’s band teased the audience even more by including “Respect” and “Natural Woman” in the overture that kicked things off.

So you can imagine how dumbfounded everyone was when Franklin left the stage nearly two hours later without singing either song.

Surely, everyone figured, she would return for an encore. But the grand exit -- a James Brown-type routine with a member of her troupe shouting “The Queen” over and over -- was indeed final.

Disappointment?

Absolutely.

But the fact that the absence of the songs didn’t totally ruin the evening underscored what a splendid vocalist and generally winning performer Franklin is.

Few artists enjoy the role of a human jukebox, recycling old hits, and Franklin gave plenty of herself in other ways -- some playful, some absolutely joyful.

Even if her voice seemed hoarse at times (she complained about the cool night air) and she had trouble hitting some of the high notes, Franklin still employs marvelously the gospel, jazz and R&B; instincts that proved soul music wasn’t just a man’s game.

On her best Atlantic recordings, Franklin sang with such fire and conviction that almost every noteworthy R&B; or pop singer today owes her a debt -- from Angie Stone to Alicia Keys.

Those old Franklin records still speak about the marvels and torments of love with such a life-defining fervor that they deserve to be thought of as classics as opposed to merely “oldies.”

And Franklin does still sing “Respect” and “Natural Woman” at some concert stops, but she omitted them Friday to make room for other material.

The good news is that she didn’t, with a couple of dreary exceptions, use the time for the feeble show tunes and other middle-brow pop that have marred many of her post-’70s recordings.

She did some of the Atlantic classics, including “Chain of Fools” and “I Say a Little Prayer,” as well as revisited earlier R&B; hits on Columbia Records, including the vigorous “Won’t Be Long” and the stormy “Today I Sing the Blues.”

Franklin’s musical interests clearly go beyond the soul style that made her a star, and she and her nearly two dozen musicians frequently found a tasteful middle ground between ‘60s soul and the contemporary pop elegance that has characterized her post-Atlantic recordings. This was particularly true in her funky, urgent rendition of her 1985 hit “Freeway of Love.”

Franklin’s manner was disarmingly playful -- from the snippet of “California Here I Come” in the overture to singing happy birthday to TV-radio talk show personality Tavis Smiley, who was in the audience. But she should do herself a favor next time and leave home that goofy-looking stole, with its huge, multilayered ruffles. She seemed distracted at times just carrying it around.

Friday’s most engaging segment was when Franklin revisited her spectacular Grammy moment of 1998. Substituting for an ailing Luciano Pavarotti, she sang a Puccini aria so stirringly that it ranks as one of pop’s most exciting moments on TV.

Before singing “Nessun Dorma” again Friday, a smiling Franklin, again mentioning her troubled throat, urged audience members to use their imagination if she didn’t make it to the top note.

In this day of electronic subterfuge in pop, some performers would have sung along to a backing track to give the illusion they were hitting all the notes. But Franklin went au naturel. When it was clear she wasn’t going to be able to reach the intended heights, she stopped singing and pointed gamely to a place above her head where the high note should be. The audience loved it.

Still swinging at 62, Franklin has given the pop world so much that she doesn’t have to feel guilty about not being able to hit every note -- or apologize if she doesn’t feel like singing “Respect” every night.

It may have been corny for the sidekick to shout “The Queen” when Franklin left the stage, but he wasn’t lying.

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Robert Hilburn, pop music critic of The Times, can be reached at robert.hil burn@latimes.com.