Review: His star-studded and sold-out Greek Theatre show reminds what a master he remains.
By BEN WENER
The Orange County Register

So many things about Stevie Wonder are so utterly distinct.

There's his songwriting, of course, so historically steeped, so integral to American popular music. His heavenly, instantly recognizable harmonica playing should never go overlooked. His feather-light but feverishly funky touch on a keyboard is sinful and righteous and jubilant all at once. Above all, there's his incredibly soulful voice.

Let's not fawn too much: He's no more flawless than any other cultural titan. As can happen with his still-at-it, slightly older peers, Stevie's singing can now and then take unexpectedly imprecise turns these days. Plus, it seems natural that even someone so innately gifted would shyly begin a rare two-hour-plus performance, like the one he gave Wednesday night at the Greek Theatre. One or two tentative starts are forgivable – and instantly forgotten once that tremulous wail bursts out of him, overcome, or when he effortlessly scats at the end of one of his bounty of classics, his runs scaling higher and higher without losing their way.

He's a gentle giant now, his cornrows braided further back on his scalp. But in all other respects he's ageless, his astounding gifts palpably evident.

It isn't just the infectious way his head sways as he plays, though the more he got into it at the Greek, the more the crowd would visibly, audibly respond, hollering out in a way I rarely hear anymore at concerts. But try instead to follow where he goes as he doodles his way into "Higher Ground," say – how, lost in the music, he appears instinctively to feel rapid flourishes long before they actually appear.

It's a disarming thing to witness. The only other comparable performer whose prodigious talents remain so undimmed, whose live sound is as sharp and expertly loose now as it was a quarter-century ago, is Prince – and Stevie's got eight years on the guy.

He remains a magnetic, peace-inducing presence unlike any other. The sort who attracts Hollywood elite like Eddie Murphy and Leonardo DiCaprio to this warmly embracing performance, then leaves 'em riveted and reverent – or, in DiCaprio's case during "Superstition," grooving in place and singing along.

It makes perfect sense, then, that someone so utterly distinct would approach his first full-length, major-scale touring attraction in more than a decade in a manner that is, well, utterly distinct.

A LEGEND ARRIVES: Stevie Wonder, accompanied by daughter Aisha, greet the crowd at the Greek Theatre on Wednesday night. ROSE PALMISANO, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

When the lights finally went out at the stuffed Greek, Stevie's 12-member ensemble didn't instantly take their spots to kick into some warm-up jam while the audience awaited an entrance befitting a legend. Rather, Stevie just walked out, escorted by his daughter Aisha, the object of affection in "Isn't She Lovely?" (those are her infant cries on the record) who now sings back-up in Dad's band.

Instead of immediately plunking down at his Yamaha, he stood to the side of the stage, said hello – and then explained to the hushed audience how it was he had come to be at the Greek for the first time in forever, anyway.

It's the same story he related during our recent chat, how he felt the spirit of his mother – Lula Hardaway, who died in May of last year – urging him back on stage. ("Do what God wants you to do.") The tour, he explained, is a gesture of thanks to fans whose steadfast support has enabled Stevie to care for his family for years.

And, after concluding with one of his mother's adages ("Don't let anyone blind your spirit") and a proclamation that "I'm gonna walk over here and do a little sumthin'-sumthin'," he and Aisha rested at his L-shaped nook of keys, found middle C, and sweetly slid into "Love's in Need of Love Today," the full band strolling out and joining in halfway through.

What ensued was a positively tremendous performance that was nonetheless as casual as an evening in a rehearsal studio.

It opened with enough gems to satisfy any Steviephile who forked over big for tickets. "Innervisions" was heavily culled from – six of the album's nine cuts were revived. Very early in the set, in fact, Stevie played its first three songs in sequence – snaking through "Too High," giving "Visions" a churning, message-filled finish, then getting the crowd on its feet and chanting with "Living for the City."

He kept them up with "Master Blaster (Jammin')" and "Higher Ground," then eased into an intimate, balladic midsection with "Golden Lady." He would eventually come out of that segment with a robust handling of "Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing" and a terrific "Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I'm Yours)" that had people cheering, but just before and after that moment came evidence of how marvelously relaxed Stevie can still be in the spotlight once he settles in.

His slow segment, for instance, found him seamlessly segueing from "Ribbon in the Sky" to "Overjoyed" to "You and I" to "Blame It on the Sun" as if he were deciding what to play next on the spot. Later, it very much seemed like he was gleefully winging it, offering a lesson in both his breadth and influences – first by converting "Signed, Sealed" into a country two-step, then by illustrating the racial-blurring links between rock 'n' roll and country music by dusting off Chuck Berry's "Memphis" and superbly mimicking Berry's twangy guitar sound with his synthesizer.

Then he slipped into "Boogie on Reggae Woman." Then "My Cherie Amour," the crowd taking the first verse. Then the Nat King Cole staple "When I Fall in Love," sung with the opera-trained daughter of a recently departed friend.

And then things really started to fly. "Sir Duke" crashed into "I Wish," which tumbled into "Isn't She Lovely" and "You Are the Sunshine of My Life" and "Superstition" and just a smidge of "I Just Called to Say I Love You," which sounded strangely appropriate under the circumstances.

And then the great blind pop prophet reiterated the message he growled out at the end of "Visions" – that a truly United States requires a united people. "Do your best to love," he told the attentive mass. "And tell those people who hate, 'Listen, why don't you just die and go to hell – instead of making this a living hell for all of us.'"

The audience laughed and roared approval. Then he left.

It says something about the man that he for so many years staunchly refused to peddle nostalgia for his own profit, turning up only at benefit performances instead. In addition to fostering goodwill and elevating his iconic status, it has lent his appearances a certain extra spark, a buzz in the air that I wouldn't want to see dissipate from overexposure.

That said, please, Stevie, don't be a stranger. Love's still very much in need of your kind of love.

Contact the writer: 714-796-2248 or bwener@ocregister.com