By BRUCE DENNILL
Robbie Williams / SunBet Arena, Time Square, Pretoria
Robbie Williams took a two-decade break between South African tours, but there is no dynamic curve as, without even a support act to warm up the room, he explodes onto the SunBet Arena stage with a troupe of dancers, backing vocalists (men and women), a three-piece horn section and his core band – 20 people behind him as struts into Let Me Entertain You. It’s a song custom-made for moments like this, including introducing his butt to the audience and greeting them in a passable Afrikaans accent, and it gets everyone in the venue on their feet, barely a minute into proceedings. If there were concerns about his reputation as a live act being a bit overblown, they’re immediately put to bed.
Williams tells stories and shares anecdotes between every song, demanding audience feedback and noise as much for those as he does for the music. A fan in the front row reflects him back – the same black vest, the same bare arms covered in tattoos – and Williams develops a warm camaraderie with the man over the course of the evening, even taking his phone and leaving a sweet, warm message for the fan’s young daughter, from “Uncle Robbie”. That interlude is about the only time in the whole set he isn’t swearing like a sailor, but his comfort with others and with himself reflects him being in what seems like a great head- and heartspace. He’s in good physical shape, too, conceding that a ‘bit of a bug going around’ means he’s not at 100% but never backing off keeping up with his dancers, most of who, are half his age.
The audience response to the generosity coming off the stage – and the good sound, and the thundering drum sound – is huge and happy, and Williams reacts in kind, pausing during Come Undone to grin widely and say, “I forgot how famous I am here – thank you!”
William’s awareness and ability to improvise ups the energy and engagement even further, as he points out audience members – “Is that your mom? Then you’re probably my daughter…” – introduces band members who’ve been struggling with upset stomachs and plays the trailer for his new movie, Better Man, without making it feel awkward.
The show is, in some ways, ‘Robbie The Musical’ – an old-fashioned, cocky British entertainer who feels genuine affection for the people he performs for and loves to share his experiences with them. He mentions right up front that doing so is therapy for him, and the vulnerability and humour he demonstrates show that he’s not just indulging a cliché, but might be using the time in a similar way to an Alcoholic Anonymous meeting, just with a lot more people and without the anonymity. The talking and the openness don’t wear as time passes – there is authenticity behind the self-assured posing.
The building blocks of the charm and musical offensive are both big and small. Williams breaks off in the middle of a song to cheerfully confront a couple going to the loo. That’s followed by a towering cover of Oasis’ Don’t Look Back In Anger – Williams is no Liam Gallagher (who is, though?), but the drums and guitars match the original in scale.
He also covers Back For Good by Take That, the band he was part of right at the start of his career, whose ludicrous first music video he wryly eviscerates (it includes naked buttocks and silver codpieces, so the scoffing is richly deserved). Interestingly, both Williams and Take That are big enough cultural forces that pretty much all of the singer’s British references land well.
Between powerful performances of Supreme and Millennium, there’s a brilliant, subtle tempo switch in which the massive drum sound propels everyone’s arms into the air. Kids then kicks off with an enormous funk groove, with the horn players in the middle of the stage and the dancers in futuristic, skintight Matrix-style one-pieces and three backing vocalists sharing the Kylie Minogue part from the original. It’s an unexpected highlight in a set full of hits.
In the encore, Williams steps offstage and introduces himself to a whole family and leads a rendition of Happy Birthday dedicated to the beaming 14-year-old daughter. After a leisurely chat to a different woman in the crowd, he quotes something she said instead of the usual lyric line in No Regrets, just as confident in switching things up without losing his place nearly two hours in as he was at the start of the concert. And to finish, not unexpectedly, he sprinkled a little Angels dust, leaving much of the singing to an audience who would’ve been happy to stay for another hour.
