Interchange: 4 Queens@Michelob Ultra Arena in Las Vegas

4 Queens@Michelob Ultra Arena in Las Vegas, NV Concert Review

The show opened with Glady Knight; this woman has such range and vocal control evident in her long notes and pitch. She was amazing. She was so happy, several times she bent over from the waist in joy and laughter.

She moved across the stage during her set, the vocalists standing and sometimes seated. One woman had blue hair which matched the artist's deep blue tux.

Knight's career like so many artists of that day, tells the story of a people. Griots or Jali, these artists write what they too live. These songs are special, these women are special because they chronicled a history as they participated. We can sing along because theses songs sing us too.

"If anyone would ever write my story. . ." Knight sings. "[We] are, [Black people are,] the best thing that ever happened . . . to [one another]." We are "the best thing . . ." to ourselves. We have to remember this. Acceptance comes from within.

Others might exploit our best thing, but only if we allow the exploitation. Free people know their worth and do not allow others to use them.

These powerful artists, women revolutionaries all on one stage is the thing that will get us to tomorrow. A sold out show says we collectively know it's true. Today is another tomorrow but it's the same yesterday: capitalism, racism, melanin envy, hatred.

Las Vegas has such appeal because it's a fantasy. It is an adult Playland. Oakland's Ferryland is celebrating its 75th anniversary and there is a new exhibit at the Oakland Museum of California.

Most Black people cannot afford a Las Vegas 24 hour fantasy escape; however, these songs continue to get us through one day into the next one. The art is freely given and easily accessed.

Reflections

Let's start with what worked well. Hands down, without argument, concerts with old school folks who rock gray hair, support hose and walking sticks are the best.

These folks remember the lyrics to songbooks, have stories to tell about when and are not ashamed to let the music move their bodies in a dance that has no name.

My people are chill even when several folks at a recent concert and I mean several people tell them, "You are in my seat."

There were lots of Seat 1s, just one Section 207 though. More than one person stepped to us demanding we move. Each time the person was wrong.

During the intermission between sets, the man in front of us left and when he returned a couple were in his seats. He told them they were in the wrong section. They apologized and moved on. No one got angry. Only grown folks have this kind of maturity. We earn it by living so long and we want to continue the living part of longevity so grown folks know how to sidestep conflict.

My sister and I didn't work at the arena Friday night, but the lost patrons made us hungry for tips.

Another plus for concerts like this is the vibe. The men were not annoying. I think because 66+ year old Black women are invisible. We don't cloak. We just effervescent, a cascading vanishing vision. I was with my sister who dressed for herself-- comfortable. We both rocked sneakers 👟. Sneakers travel far. Comfortable shoes are something we learned to wear. What's on these feet screens out predators.

My brand might be just the thing that tells would be muggers to move on. I don't know. Liquidated, I don't seem to be worth much. Underestimation is my superpower.

When the sound grew frustrating, I wish the artist's would have talked to us about their lives and why they said yes to this tour. They must love the work to take on such a venture at an age when laurels make a cushy pillow.

Of course they told us they love us, but they couldn't see how many we were. We were too many for intimacy, the kind of intimacy the smaller rooms these artists grew in stature and craft in, allowed. If this is the nature of performance today, how do artists like Knight and her sisters who know another reality recreate such intimacy in such behemoth settings?

It is possible. I saw it with Beyoncé in 2024 in San Jose. It is these conversations that one remembers not always the playlist.

Nonetheless these women's songs were their resistance. These songs were the underground railroad to personal and collective freedom. These songs were, and continue to carry the message . . . an updated version of Steal Away. Black women pack bags and walk away from "what no longer serves." No need to steal anything, her sovereignty is paid up.

Current politics simmered unaddressed in the room, yet these remarkable women were a counternarrative to what's going on. We didn't allow circumstances to dampen the mood, rather took inspiration from the collective diva soundtrack. There was something for everyone. No woe or injury too small for healing. Like a mega church these ministers administered soothing medicine.

I stepped to the altar ready for healing and I took away much to keep me going and to renew my faith in what's possible when God is on your side.

Yes, the Black woman is still God.

Food, beverages, snacks...oh my!

I was so hungry, and for those familiar with concession monopoly know we cannot even carry water past security. I bought a bottle for $7. A chicken sandwich with fries was $14. My friend's beer was $21.

I am just saying, and for the old folks who still spend cash, they went hungry.

So anyhoo, a nice woman blessed me with a chicken paddy. That's all I could eat. I ate it slowly. It was reconstituted, but edible. I bless the chicken many edits away from the paddy. It was just what I needed to enjoy the concert. Yummy is what my blood sugar said to the edible protein.

Oh, did I mention our seats? They were superb except for the speakers that cut off our center stage view.

Yes, patience is for my crew. We rock Patience. When you live past a certain age, patience and gratitude are invitational companions. I have been riding with these two since 55.

Our seats were in the balcony, but close to the stage. We'd bought our tickets online a couple months ago. We lucked out despite hidden fees like taxes. The Divas are in Oakland Saturday, May 10, and LA next week.

Now for the downside.

I hope the sound improves at the next venue. It was horrendous, especially for Gladys Knight who didn't have her own band.

Stephanie Mills, Patti Labelle and Chaka Khan did, but their people didn't control their sound.

These women might think about hiring a sound engineer, the next time they travel together. My son-in-law might be available with notice. Holla.

I have been to concerts where the artist travels with a resident sound engineer. It makes all the difference.

Black Promoters Collective are steering this tour with stops along the western coast before heading south. It's good money is touching Black hands. https://blackpromoterscollective.com/thequeens/#:~:text=09,Capital One Arena

The first three women conjured Yemanja, the diety associated with fresh water and the womb. They wore variations on a blues theme. From light-enhanced azure, cyan and tiffany to teal and ocean spray tones for the goddess mother who traveled into an often hostile world, those worlds and their masters who would capture Black bodies whose melanin graced children would build nations. Uncompensated to date, it is such women who remind us that our ancestors survived a holocaust, a Maafa. We became a new and improved version of an invitational species.

Bitterness is not a drink on tap here. We are more than the journey, yet the journey shapes us.

Peoplehood is invitational. Every body who walks on two legs is not one of us.

The women sang of love and power, forgiveness and reciprocity. They sang of home, the home within.

Self-love was a theme as the Divas collectively scored a legacy inherited by most in the arena. Our numbers didn't even come close to these women's collective performance years, awards, and blood equity. Ase Ladies.

In their late 60s, 70s and 80s even technology could not damper the fact that we were in the presence of a collective wonder-- successful Black women. These elegant, lovely women had made it in an industry that did not love them back or cultivate nurturing spaces for them to recharge and regroup. They represent survival, overcoming and what courage looks like, that is, to have a vision and a dream for oneself.

Loss, these women know personal loss. Each artist had a sizzle reel which included video. If I remember correctly, Gladys Knight had a panel introduce her. Photo montage only documents the story. These histories live in these women's bodies, bodies that illustrate a story which is why such living presentations are so important.

Chaka Khan had on lace stockings with a shimmy sleeved jacket. Multiple camera gave us closeups.

Knight had on an elegant tux while Ms. Stephanie dressed to move in her floor length sleeveless dress. Ready to party, Mills danced through her impressive set. Then again, at 68, she is the youngest headlining legendary artist.

The music was really loud. I was happy to have earbuds. However loud doesn't mean good. Knights' musicians raced through familiar ballads and drowned out the singer. All the instruments seemed to be on monotrack which meant we could not hear potential blending and creative mixing. Is was all one big noisy mess.

Up next, after Knight, Mills arrived with a cast who could play that tune, all of them because they were family. What was impressive was the level of talent. Mills' musicians were amazing craftsmen.

Her vocalists included her son, whose solo, like those of the other choral members was outstanding.

Labelle, third artist, dressed in a long coat and tailored widelegged pants, looked beautiful. Her pianist also served as her conductor. In a white tux, he reminded me of the late, Bill Bell, who created the jazz music department at the College of Alameda, where I retired after 25 years. I like watching orchestration.

Labelle's team also guarded her safety when she invited men from the audience to sing and then dance. She gave flowers to men too. I wonder what that was about on Mother's Day weekend. There were no stories about Black mama's or mamas period despite the Yemanja energy.

It was hot on the stage Labelle said more than once. She changed into a red suit with black embroidery on the lapels and collar. Was she channeling Oya to bring a breeze or EsuLegba to open the way and get her through?

I would have loved a song with all the women. I almost feel like going again just to see how the tour develops. This was a preview show, first on the tour which continues through June first. Another significant day, June 1st is Sojourner Truth's freedom birthday.

I hadn't remembered Mills in her role as Dorothy in the Wiz. "When I think of home..." Yes, where is home for each of us?

The Black Power fist salute was the closing image for Mills whose vocalists also raised fists.

While Khan's visual mix looked like veves and sacred altars for the warriors. She wore black. The song, "I'm Every Woman" closed the evening. I mean what else can one say?

Concert links from YouTube.com/wandaspicks

Chaka Khan was born March 23, 1953 in Chicago, Illinois.

https://youtu.be/XaNNjUVBQ0M?si=atnNF52PHX7CaQoU

https://youtu.be/FOwWZCJGUyY?si=cuu0bMPfqXqQ9bVl

Patti LaBelle was born Patricia Louise Holte on May 24, 1944 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

https://youtu.be/g1CpF2JWoVU?si=RFh9p4POaYatF5Sr

Sizzle included

https://youtu.be/5MyCQvnpR-M?si=piNofqhRgwIx14XZ

https://youtu.be/Ps5neVLq-i8?si=Bvmu60ibm0UWRXqD

https://youtu.be/PCUgzHDy8G4?si=fW6A_49RCSdomWTj

https://youtu.be/g1CpF2JWoVU?si=RFh9p4POaYatF5Sr

Stephanie Dorthea Mills was born March 22, 1957 in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn.