My love for Stevie Wonder runs deep, as you may gather from the fact that this site’s podcast team dedicated an entire episode to him just a few short weeks ago.
In 2006 (or thereabouts,) I saw Stevie play Radio City Music Hall in New York City. Even with a lifetime of listening to and appreciating the man’s music, I was blown away. His string of hits is unassailable, of course, but everything from the staging to Stevie’s vocal power astounded me. Not only was I impressed from a musical standpoint, but the audience was one of the most demographically diverse and most peaceful I’d ever seen. I’ve been to a lot of shows, and for some folks the music is secondary to having a good time/getting drunk/being social. Not so with Mr. Wonder. It seemed as though the audience came with a reverence that can only be reserved for…say, the greatest American lyricist of the past half century-in my humble opinion, anyway.
You’d think one transformative Stevie experience would be enough-not so. When I heard that the legend was embarking on a tour celebrating his iconic Songs In The Key Of Life album, I gave buying a ticket maybe 30 seconds of thought before making my mind up that I would be at the Boston stop. I was there. And it was glorious.
I’ve been fortunate to have gotten the chance to see many of my musical heroes play-everyone from Prince to Michael McDonald to The Police to New Edition to Springsteen to De La Soul. All of those artists were and are fantastic, but there’s something particularly special about Stevie. His spirit comes from a different place, and that separates him from just about every other icon of the early rock era currently touring. There’s been no sense of jadedness, no air of the perfunctory at either of the shows I’ve been to. Stevie and his band delivered spirited renditions of every song on the lengthy Key of Life album (as well as a quick encore featuring a handful of non-Songs smashes.) They played nearly 3 hours of music (with a 15 minute intermission) and Stevie is sixty-four years old. Amazing.
I could go on and on, highlight reel style, about the show’s high points: the presence of india.arie as “special guest” and foil, delivering powerful duet vocals on a handful of songs and mesmerizing the crowd with her costumes. The all-star band, which included legends Nathan East and Greg Phillinganes. The string section, particularly poignant during “Pastime Paradise.” The guest appearances by Ray Parker Jr., who played guitar on the last several songs (much as he did on the Songs album.) Stevie’s amazing background singers, who included his daughter Aisha (inspiration for “Isn’t She Lovely,” which Stevie delivered perfectly) and a male vocalist whose name I can’t find anywhere (seriously, Google?) but was absolutely fantastic. Stevie’s stage banter, which alternated between silly and poignant, reached its peak during a potent speech in which Stevie decried racism and discrimination of all kinds. A speech that would sound hokey coming from just about any other arena-level artist resonated strongly with this particular crowd, although a shout out to President Obama at the end of “Black Man” fell flat.
Above anything, though, there are those songs. And there is that voice. At my first Stevie show, one particular song hit me harder than the others: “If It’s Magic.” Performed solely by Stevie and harpist Dorothy Ashby (who passed away in 1986,) “Magic” is simultaneously innocent and world-weary. It hits me in a place that I don’t think I can adequately describe, and Stevie (joined by india.arie) delivered an impeccable live rendition of it. I’m not a good enough writer to accurately describe the way “Magic” makes me feel, so here. Listen for yourself. Now picture yourself in the same room with Stevie Wonder as he’s singing it. If you don’t have goose bumps or tears coming out of your eyes, I question whether you even have a heart.
Having had a few days to let the concert sink in. I still find myself amazed at the emotions Stevie and these songs manage to evoke. While there are certainly elements of nostalgia involved (reminiscing about my childhood while watching Stevie perform “I Wish,” a song that finds Stevie reminiscing about his childhood might have been the most meta moment of my experience,) a Stevie show isn’t an exercise in reliving my younger years. It’s an experience; an opportunity to witness a force of nature in action. It’s also a communion in a way that I’ve only rarely felt at a show-everyone I know that went to the show was spiritually moved by Stevie. All of this is amazing when you consider that the artist in question is in his sixth decade of performing, and that these songs are almost forty years old.
Almost makes you wonder who’s gonna pick up the slack. Until the day comes when someone does, I’m glad Stevie is still here to be enjoyed and appreciated. If you haven’t seen him yet and have the chance, I urge you to do so.