Roaring applause for a Legend
CROONER urged the crowd to stand up and dance. He barely broke a sweat. Photos by Richard Reyes
One of his earliest shows, John Legend recounted, was in a small live-music venue where he played for an audience of three. “Five, if you count the bartenders,” he said on Friday night during his concert at Smart Araneta Coliseum, drawing laughter from the crowd of, this time around, thousands.
As one might expect from a show titled “Intimate. Acoustic. Stripped Down,” the setup was kept to a minimum. Apart from the mock black grand in the middle of the stage, nary a single prop was in sight. There were no fancy lights, either; no billowing smoke, no rains of confetti.
There was no need for all that, anyway. Legend’s voice did all the work, and then some.
String quartet
To a passage of swaying music from the string quartet, Legend emerged onstage, arms outstretched and looking dapper in a cream-colored blazer.
After a minute or two reveling in the packed crowd’s ardent profession of love, the American R&B/neosoul singer settled at the piano to open the show, tickling the ivories and jerking his feet to “Made to Love.”
His second song, “Tonight (Best You Ever Had),” was a heady bop that had Legend crooning flirtatiously to the sultry beat—airy, whispery notes and sweet falsettos. “I don’t want to brag. Or maybe I do. I’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”
Before proceeding, Legend told the audience about some challenges he faced as a new struggling artist. In 1998, when he was a college student at the University of Pennsylvania, he was introduced to R&B-soul artist Lauryn Hill, who invited him to collaborate with her.
He played the piano for the song “Everything is Everything” in her album, “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill.” He related, “It was my first little break; I thought it would lead to bigger ones. But I didn’t get a record deal in 1998— not in 1999, 2000, 2001…”
JOHN LEGEND: Manila fans gave him mad, joyous, shrieking approval.
After graduation, Legend landed in corporate work as a management consultant. At night, he toiled in the studio, recording demos or playing small gigs around New York.
Through a friend, Legend met his would-be mentor, rapper-record producer Kanye West, who featured the budding musician in different songs he was producing for other acts. Legend also became West’s “sidekick,” playing the piano and singing the hooks in the latter’s music.
Brisk pace
He did as much for Jay-Z’s “Encore” and Slum Village’s “Selfish.” The crooner in the interlude in Alicia Keys’ “You Don’t Know My Name”? Yup, that’s him.
Finally in 2004 came the record deal, which gave birth to his debut album, “Get Lifted.” Legend said, eliciting another round of chuckles: “I was turned down by a lot of major record labels, including the one I’m signed to now.”
While the overall mood was laid-back and mellow, the show’s pace was actually brisk. Before anyone noticed, he had zipped past fan favorites “Let’s Get Lifted,” “Used to Love U,” “Number One,” the anthemic “Save the Night” and “Maxine.”
A huge chunk of the audience consisted of couples, many of them celebs—Sarah Geronimo and Matteo Guidicelli; Angel Locsin and Luis Manzano; Maja Salvador and Gerald Anderson; Sarah Lahbati and Richard Gutierrez; Bela Padilla and Neil Arce, and Gretchen Ho and Robi Domingo.
What better way to put them in a romantic mood than with these:
From “PDA”: “I see you closing down the restaurant / Let’s sneak and do it when your boss is gone.”
From “Save Room”: “Don’t be afraid of a little bit of pain / Pleasure is on the other side.”
One big regret
Slinky melodies and all, Legend handled ’em with finesse and unflappable poise.
Performing “Green Light” and his cover of Michael Jackson’s “Rock with You,” he urged the crowd to stand up and dance. All the while, he strutted about, busting out a few moves of his own. Intermittently, he broke into vocal improvisations that elicited mad approval.
He barely broke a sweat.
Legend wistfully recalled his childhood, growing up in a Pentecostal church community surrounded by a family passionate about music—his grandfather was the pastor; his grandmother, the church organist; his mother, the choir director. His father sang and played the drums.
Sundays after service, Legend headed straight to his grandma’s. She would cook collard greens, chicken and cornbread, and then teach him how to play gospel piano. She died when he was 10. One big regret, he said, is that his grandmother did not witness his success.
“So now you hear a lot of my grandmother in me,” Legend said, before performing Simon and Garfunkel’s gospel-inflected song, “Bridge over Troubled Water.”
Pain, yearning
A hush fell over the crowd as he ran his fingers across the piano keys and delivered the elegantly phrased lyrics. His voice didn’t cut; rather, it bloomed as it ascended the scale, then dissolved into a soulful quiver that evoked pain and yearning.
Legend picked up the energy again with “You and I,” “Caught Up,” the slow buildup of the uplifting “So High” and his early hit, “Ordinary People,” which highlighted full and velvety vocal runs. After this suite, he rose to his feet. So did the spectators, who wouldn’t stop clapping and hooting.
His exit fooled no one and merely prompted chants of “More! More!” And after just a few seconds, Legend was back onstage, asking, “Can I sing one more song?” “Yes!” they hollered back, of course.
The opening strains of “All of Me” came on and the fans— who, up until then, had kept themselves composed—rushed to the stage, lugging cameras, to record Legend’s live performance of his first No. 1 song, dedicated to his wife, model Chrissy Teigen.
(“This song is about me telling my wife how much I love her,” he had told the Inquirer in an e-mail interview prior to the concert.)
A rousing sing-along had people draping their arms around their partners.
The show (mounted by Wilbros Live and BoardWorks Media) ended with the rapt crowd giving Legend a standing ovation yet again and roaring applause far more intense than fireworks.
