DALLAS -- Spectacle and soul often stand at odds in the world of pop music.
Conventional wisdom holds that one lessens the other, and it's stunningly rare that both traits can not only co-exist, but combine to create a memorable evening of over-the-top delights.
Pink understands the need for garish setpieces is as great as the need for honest, emotionally engaging pop songs; she indulged both Wednesday night at her packed American Airlines Center performance.
While many of her pop star peers have exhausted the touring circuit, Pink is on her maiden U.S. headlining voyage, supporting last year's wrenching Funhouse. Her exuberance was evident from the opening moments of Bad Influence and Just Like a Pill -- as if to say, "Am I really getting away with this?" -- and the crowd did nothing but feed off her boundless energy.
The tight 100-minute set never flagged, even during Pink's fleeting costume changes. The pacing was crisp, allowing for brief acoustic interludes and smoldering displays of sensuality (Pink's cover of the Divinyls' I Touch Myself was only PG-13, but spicy enough to prompt a few mothers to cover their childrens' eyes). No matter the mood, Pink conveyed an endearing humanity and willingness to speak frankly, rather than "put on a show" at a remove from the clearly ga-ga audience.
She also slyly inserted feminist elements into the show, taking the fellas down a peg during the anthemic So What. Pink was aided by her fantastic backing band and the gaggle of back-up dancers, some of whom filled in for Pink on the daring acrobatics (prior to separating her shoulder during a stunt earlier this tour, Pink would end her set with a bit of high-flying derring-do).
Mostly, Pink delivered the kind of show that's fading from existence. She really sang, she really danced and she really entertained, without stooping to ginormous video screens or elaborate pyrotechnics. Using just her voice and her charisma, Pink gave the folks exactly what they paid for: a good time.
Opening act the Ting Tings punched out a kinetic, 40-minute set that drew heavily from its debut album, We Started Nothing. The duo works up quite a frenzy live, relying on effects pedals and digital trickery to replicate the dense, danceable sounds of the album. Infectious, spasmodic hits like That's Not My Name and Shut Up and Let Me Go turned the AAC into a throbbing nightclub.
