djfrosty

Many older musicians, who, for whatever reason, are no longer able to faithfully recreate the music of their heyday, struggle to rearrange their songs to match their current facilities. Stevie Wonder, the consummate singer/songwriter/producer, doesn’t have that problem: He brought with him a full backing band of over 30 people that effortlessly eased from loose to metronomic depending on the mood of their leader, Mr. Wonder.

Draped in a shimmering purple suit, Stevie sat at an assortment of keyboards with a grand piano directly to his left. On top of that were a few harmonicas, which he employed for classic solos on set staples like “Overjoyed.” To his far right was a string section with about half dozen instrumentalists. Behind that was a horn section next to the percussionists. Then there were his backup singers. A bass player and a few guitarists rounded out the crew. The effect of the performers was at times dizzying. If you’ve ever listened to your favorite song in one of those theater room demos at places like the Bose store, then you can kind of understand or approximate the feeling of having over two dozen highly skilled musicians help Stevie create the beautiful cacophony that is “As.”

If you looked around the Garden at any time during the two-plus hours Wonder rocked the arena, you would see members of the audience in three states: letting the music wash over them as they danced and sang aloud as if alone in their bathroom mirrors, taking a quick break from the festivities, or praying to the God of Tamla that he would play their personal favorites. The headline of the night was “Sing Your Song!” And Wonder worked hard to make it possible for everyone in attendance to do just that. But it’s impossible to create the ultimate Stevie Wonder setlist: His catalog is too vast and the hits too plentiful to properly satiate every fan. That said, Wonder did well rolling through his fan-favorites that spoke to the larger theme of the night, from “As” to “Village Ghetto Land.” So even if you couldn’t sing your song, you could make do with singing your second or third favorite song. 

He plucked most of the songs from his indefatigable run from the late ‘60s to the early ‘70s, when he seemed to have a bottomless jug of musical triumphs from which he was able to pour each year. He started the show with his newest single, “Can We Fix Our Nation’s Broken Heart,” a dewy-eyed song that brings to mind classic Wonder tracks but lacks the bite inherent in some of his best socially aware offerings. No problem, though. Right after that he got to work and launched into the cream of his catalog, playing “You Are the Sunshine of My Life,” with the band sounding like they were performing at the halftime show of a HBCU’s football game.

It’s not breaking news or anything, but needs to be said: Stevie Wonder is a tough act to follow. Anyone going to see Stevie Wonder is excited about only seeing Stevie Wonder. And, to Wonder’s credit, even at 74 years old he gave the fans a hell of a show. Ever the showman, he would take short breaks towards the end to ask the audience if they were ready to go home yet, knowing the answer was going to be a loud and resounding “no!” His only real intermission came halfway through when he gave the stage to singer/songwriter/pianist Sheléa.

A Wonder mentee, Sheléa appeared in a dazzling full-length gown and introduced herself. The audience remained quiet while she explained how to pronounce her name and gave her husband a shoutout. She then sat down at the grand piano and asked the audience a question: Who here knows where Stevie Wonder and Aretha Franklin intersect? A few fans perked up and cheered while her fingers pinged the ivories to play the unmistakable opening keys of Aretha Franklin’s 1973 hit “Until You Come Back To Me (That’s What I’m Gonna Do).”

Any apprehensions the audience had about Sheléa melted away as she belted out the song, which was co-written and originally recorded (but not released) by Wonder in 1967. With that out of the way and the ice completely broken, she treated the Garden to one of her upcoming singles. It’s a feat to sit at Stevie Wonder’s piano and make people want to hear more from you. But that’s just what Sheléa did.

Throughout the night, Wonder shared timeworn stories about the making of some songs, such as the time Tony Bennett heard him singing in a nearby studio and came over to tell him not to butcher “For Once in My Life,” or the blight and struggle that inspired him write “Village Ghetto Land.” He told the audience that “Sign, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours)” was inspired by meeting a girl he said was so fine, “she takes eyesight from the blind,” a joke so silly his drummer played a rimshot as the crowd laughed. At one point in the night, Wonder pointed to a fan sitting near the stage and told a story about how he paid him to shout out his new fiancé, before going into The Dixie Cups’ 1964 Billboard Hot 100 chart-topper “Chapel of Love,” which he implored the audience to sing. A lot of the stories, most Wonder fans have heard before — but hearing them there, along with 19,000 other fans, just felt, well, special.

You know what’s not fun? Going to a concert and feeling like you’re the only one having fun. In the age of smartphone capture and social media live-streaming, it’s not uncommon to look around and see everyone standing still, watching the show through the screen of their handheld. And while there were people at this concert recording every moment, most ticketholders (except for the trio of guys using their phone to watch the Yankees game) were singing and dancing as if they were at a house party with friends and a great DJ, and not at a concert Stevie Wonder concert at Madison Square Garden.

It was heartening to see. It felt as if everyone understood that although the pretense for this show is regrettable, the fact that we’re seeing on of the greatest musicians to ever live is a gift too great to feed to the algorithm. The show’s intended purpose, to fix our nation’s broken heart, is a heavy one — some would say an impossible one (to which Stevie would say, “I believe in the possible!” as he did throughout the night) — but what it really did was remind everyone in attendance what the lightness of joy feels like.