Anyone who's only recently arrived at the work of Robin Thicke as a result of his recent global No 1, Blurred Lines – seven albums into his career – is, it is averred, in for a treat. "Are you ready for the Experience?" bellows his keyboard player before the singer takes the stage. As it turns out, the Experience is full of surprises, not all of them pleasant. The first is Thicke's appearance: with his aviator sunglasses, neatly trimmed hair, dazzling teeth and unbuttoned white shirt, he looks – from a distance, at least – not unlike Simon Cowell.
In addition, if you think that, whatever its considerable musical merits, the Blurred Lines refrain of "you know you want it" is, at best, a bit too sleazy for its own good, you only know the half of it. On stage, what Thicke offers is a weird combination of sleaze and cheesy schmaltz.
On the one hand, there are the lyrics to Give It 2 U – "I've got a big dick for you," he sings while patting his crotch, as if to clarify that said big dick isn't sprouting out of his elbow – and his habit of descending into the crowd so that adoring females may paw him. On the other, he ends songs by making gun shapes with his hands and miming blowing smoke off them, performs choreographed routines with his dancers involving much flamboyant clapping of hands, and indulges in between-song banter so oily you fear for the safety of any passing seabirds. When he pretends to machine-gun the audience, you can't help but think of Alan Partridge doing the same thing as he enters the set of Knowing Me, Knowing You. The cumulative effect is like watching a Butlin's redcoat with an erection.
Thicke can certainly sing, and his material skips from pounding house beats decorated with rock guitars to Michael Jacksonish ballads, to loverman slow jams. What he doesn't have is another song as naggingly undeniable as Blurred Lines. Live, he makes vaporous songs seem more vaporous still, thanks to his insistence on dragging them out with extempore vocals: his penchant for improvising would have the Grateful Dead urging him to get a move on.
Still, listening to him sing is infinitely preferable to listening to him talk. "Don't give up on your dreams, because dreams come true – I'm living proof of that," he attests. "I want to thank all my fans. Old fans. New fans. And those of you who aren't fans yet. Hopefully you will be one day." Pause, sincere grin. "I love you all."
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