Lenny Kravitz released his debut album, Let Love Rule, 30 years ago this month, but it might as well have been yesterday. While pop music keeps shifting, Kravitz remains virtually unchanged – a staunch traditionalist in search of peace, love and the perfect retro power chord to play on his Gibson Les Paul.
He did throw one curveball Saturday night at the Theatre at Grand Prairie, but it was a new song with a decidedly old feel, the techno-flavored “Who Really Are the Monsters?” from his 2018 album Raise Vibration. In Kravitz’s world, sounding like 1992 counts as a step forward.
Yet conservatism isn’t such a bad thing when your old-time rock ‘n’ soul feels as fresh as Kravitz’s does. Over the course of an often-thrilling two-hour concert, the 55-year-old singer showed impressive range, shifting effortlessly from the blitzkrieg punk of “Bank Robber Man” to lovely soul sing-along “Stillness of Heart,” both from the 2001 album Lenny. The country-style ballad “Can’t Get You Off My Mind” showed he’s got a second career as a Nashville songwriter, if he so chooses.
Kravitz didn’t mess with the arrangements of most of his hits, but sparks flew when he did. “American Woman” morphed into hypnotic reggae and segued into The Wailers’ “Get Up, Stand Up,” while “It Ain’t Over ‘Til It’s Over” turned into a stirring jazz meditation fueled by saxophonists Harold Todd and Michael Sherman.
The singer leaned heavily on his ace seven-piece band, especially his longtime co-writer Craig Ross, a man of boundless hair and Jimmy Page-influenced guitar solos. His usual drummer Cindy Blackman Santana wasn’t on board, but her replacement, Franklin Vanderbilt, added backing vocal punch, as did bassist Gail Ann Dorsey, who played for years with David Bowie.
Not that Kravitz needed any help singing. His bluesy tenor was as sharp and soulful as ever.
A consummate showman in sunglasses and black leather outfit, Kravitz stalked the stage like a panther and aimed pelvic thrusts at his bandmates and fans in the front row, some of who took the liberty of stroking his leather pants as he strummed his Flying V guitar and shook his dreadlocks.
With the balcony closed, the bottom of the theater was filled with 4,000 or so fans – a far cry from the arena-size crowds Kravitz once drew, but the perfect size for a performer who prefers to play without the distraction of video screens. At one point, he urged fans to put away their phones and concentrate on the show.
“God gave us a more advanced piece of technology: Our minds,” he said.
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Plenty of fans ignored him and held their phones aloft throughout the show, but it was their loss. Old-school performers like Kravitz are best enjoyed the old-fashioned way – with ears and eyes fully focused.
