By Victoria Looseleaf,
Special to The Times
Luther not only lives, he croons, grooves and shakes major booty. But
most of all, he loves, loves, loves. And did we say he's possessed with rockin' retro fashion cred? This was the scene at
the Wilshire Theatre on Saturday night when a slew of terrific singers, dancers and musicians got together for "Here
and Now: The Legacy of Luther Vandross."
A tribute to the late Grammy-winning
singer-songwriter, the two-plus hour evening was, in effect, a huge love-in. Leading the festivities in heavy Luther mode
was vocalist Terry Steele, former frontman for jazz band Hiroshima and co-writer of one of Vandross' biggest hits, "Here
and Now."
Backed by vocalists DeVere Duckette,
Melinda Jameison and Hiroshima's Kimaya Seward, Steele, with his mellow, heart-soaring voice, tossed off a cavalcade of Vandross'
top tunes, including "So Amazing," "Never Too Much" and "Power of Love." Under the musical direction
of Monty Seward and Cornelius Mims, not one but two bands cooked, helping bring the wildly popular make-out songs home.
Adding icing to this sweet cake was a quintet
of luscious dancers from locally based JazzAntiqua, whose artistic director, Pat Taylor,
provided sex, soul and style to choreography that not only dazzled but also embodied the music with primal ooze.
To the sounds of "Any Love," the male duo Alvon Reed and Jeremiah
Tatum got down with undulating torsos and muscleman posturing, while Tatum and Collette Williams burned and slithered to "Superstar,"
a 1970s hit first recorded by the Carpenters. Tatum's methedrine-like turns melted into high-kicking lunges, his steroidal
jumps and outstretched arms a picture of grace.
Whether hip-swiveling, faux-jitterbugging
or landing in awesome split jumps, these movers and shakers, including Keisha Clark-Booth and Nicole LaCour, added another
dimension to the Vandross legend. Particularly stunning was the glittery finale, "Shine," with singers and dancers
all in blinding whites, including wigs, miniskirts, go-go boots and more lounge attire.
Working the room, Steele also poured his heart out to a long-married couple he plucked from the
audience with an up-close-and-personal rendition of "Here and Now."
With so much romance — or schmaltz, depending on how one feels about "The Impossible Dream," a number
Steele stretched to breaking — the treacle factor could have been seismic. To the contrary: This ready-for-Vegas show
not only brings Luther back to life but also offers unabashed love, which is something we can all use these days.
