What does a guy belting out an off-key version of Guns N’ Roses’ ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ have to do with Salt N Pepa?
Absolutely sweet ‘f’ all, that’s what.
This sonically excruciating incident is just one of the (many) reasons why Salt N Pepa’s show at the Palais on Saturday night is a serious contender for the worst gig of 2013.
Inviting the enthusiastic masochist to clamber up on stage and take the microphone is just one tactic from the bag of tricks that Salt (Cheryl James) and Pepa (Sandra Denton) employed throughout the course of the show in order to shirk the responsibility of actually being Salt N Pepa.
“But it’s Salt N Pepa!” – the masses of seventies and eighties babies who were packed into the incongruous surrounds of the Palais would cry. The first female rappers to win a Grammy award! The duo that brought us such poetically subtle RnB gems as ‘Let’s Talk About Sex’, ‘Push It’, and ‘Shoop’!
Sure, they had their glory days, but times have changed, people. For every original Salt N Pepa song they played, a medley of non-Salt N Pepa tracks followed to pad out the lacklustre set.
The duo (DJ Spindarella, aka Deidra Roper, has long since left the original line-up) took to the stage and ‘performed’ the first song of the night, Beyonce’s ‘Crazy In Love’. ‘Perform’ is a generous term for the lackadaisical dancing and rapping over a pre-recorded track, a routine that prevailed throughout the entire evening.
Then there was the banter – which was more like a cheesy scripted skit. The duo declared that all the ladies in the audience “all want love, right?” as a segue into a corny TLC/Marvin Gaye ‘No Scrubs/I Will Survive’ medley. “We all end up in a relationship with one of those scrubs eventually,” said James.
We got one or two verses of ‘Tramps’ before the group cut to another song medley that soon morphed into a few quick sound bites of ‘Gitty Up’.
‘Express Yourself’ had the duo rapping (in parts) over a backing track while gyrating lazily with their toyboy backup dancers.
Two minutes of ‘Let’s Talk About Sex’ is followed by another diversionary medley that consisted of samples from Fatman Scoop, The Black Eyed Peas, Nirvana, Michael Jackson, and then that aforementioned Guns N’ Roses moment. By that point, they had well and truly jumped the shark.
Perhaps the most frightening aspect about the whole debacle is that the crowd lapped up the proceedings of the entire sordid spoonful.
Women of all ages were falling over themselves to join the duo on stage for a “sexy lady dance par-tay”, and even a handful of males took to the stage and danced* while the group sang* ‘Whatta Man’ (*all terms used loosely).
If there’s one good thing to be said for Salt N Pepa, it’s that their charisma hasn’t dimmed over the years. They do an inexplicably excellent job of engaging the crowd despite only performing about 25% of their own material.
James is quick to jovially assert that, “This is not a show, it’s a party!” But when audience members have paid over $90 for a ticket, you’d be correct in thinking that they came for a Salt N Pepa show, not a tacky DJ dance party.
When there are hundreds of talented musicians all across Melbourne performing for next to nothing, it’s a sad state of affairs to see people willing to cough up big bucks for nothing more than an overpriced nostalgic act.
