The Boy Is…Irrelevant

Brandy & Monica - The Boy is Mine Concert Revue

The commercial was exciting. It had the glam, the suspense, and the drama of 90s and early aughts music videos. It promised that the tour would be a story, an experience. It delivered anticipation in a way that made me want to delay the gratification of spoilers to see the show live, in person. Booking a ticket was an absolute must, especially for someone who lived through seeing Destiny’s Child for the first time on Smart Guy, watched Moesha on UPN, and saw Brandy, Monica, and all of the girls at the award shows, and on the covers of so many magazines. It was a promise not just of nostalgia, but quality.

Choosing the ticket came down to a mix of price, proximity and experience. My decisions were between Newark, New York, and Atlantic City. Newark and New York are always more likely to have special guests for this kind of show. The logistics require a bit more navigation. Newark’s venue is one of the larger ones, and it’s used for sports so it’s spacious. New York…it’s the place to be and to be seen, there will be celebrity sightings, it will be hard as hell to get to, but the crowd will go up. Atlantic City is different, it sits abandoned as America’s playground, but for less than $200 you can get a decent floor seat and a good experience. That and proximity of travel made it my city of selection.

November in Atlantic City means that winter was just starting to kick up a fuss. The smell of the sea and sewage met in the middle at Boardwalk Hall. Patrons poured in from Delaware, New York, Philly, Ohio, and the DMV all going up each time the DJ shouted out their hometown. The crowd trekked in from parking lots and traipsed across the boardwalk, coming from nearby hotels, casinos, and restaurants. It was a parade of pumps, hats, furs, fast fashion, and people ready for fun. Every five feet you could buy a hoodie or bedazzled tee shirt to commemorate the night.

Boardwalk Hall feels like a great basin. It’s a yellow-tan on the outside and it stretches an entire city block on the side. It feels like the concert venue version of Noah’s Ark, with high-curved ceilings whose windows border the top edges. The stadium seats are close and cascading, leading to a rectangular concrete floor. No sports team calls this place home. Instead, it packs in the masses two by two through security screened doors, providing shelter from the sea as the show goes on.

Early entrants are treated to a disembodied voice, floating around the venue to music, making conversation. It is a DJ (or a hype man masquerading as a DJ), with a microphone, chatting and singing, and strolling around in a black sweatsuit as he warms up the crowd. His job as turnup man involves so much talking that it seems to make him tired too.

Eventually, they cut him off to show commercials. Upcoming shows, a Brandy Lifetime movie, some random QR codes, welcome to the future. Then, the lights go down, and an aspirational montage comes up, to show a man (allegedly an American Idol) who is going to perform. Idolatry is now so niche that we don’t know who he is. Clad in his purple velvet blazer, crushed velvet loafers, and a pair of black khaki capris (two sizes too small) he wails, croons, and wastes time. We are here for the girls. Go home Roger.

His performance runs long as he insists on descending into the crowd to don roses while butchering D’Angelo’s Untitled. People wander off to get drinks. Others go live on IG and Twitch, giving their own concerts and ignoring him as we all wait. Muni Long makes it out after a delay. Something is off. Her sign for Delulu is hoisted in the air, a small stage-play style set spun around…and yet when she came out, she stapled herself to a stool and sang three songs. The first was an acapella gospel medley, the second Hrs and Hrs, and finally a rendition of Made for Me before her time was up. The backing vocals and background dancers did most of the work while she seems…frustrated. Her performance felt stilted.

After another round of the hype-man in sweats coming out to make people engage in karaoke the lights dropped again. He stopped trying to clown the crowd when five singers in a row took the mic doing gospel runs and just glowing over grooves that went from Al Green to Mary J. Blige, to Anita Baker to Tevin Campbell. The crowd was committed to fun.

And then…

Bitch! Kelly Rowland came on stage! Yes, that level of enthusiasm, of excitement, of awe was needed. Kelly came out and cleared with all of the energy, poise, and precision of a seasoned artist ready to give a show. She carried it in her confident command of the stage. Her vocals were clean, mixed in the way that showed she didn’t just show up for sound checks she gave notes. That Destiny’s Child bootcamp shined through as she shimmied, served, and swerved through a medley of her verses from the early hits and her own singles.

It was the little touches that made it magical, like getting Beyonce to recut backing vocals for the tour, or energizing old arrangements to keep the crowd excited as she went through song after song, deep cuts and well known jams alike. The flex of a Kelly Rowland is that she has put in the work to be able to deliver without it feeling difficult. She sang her songs cleanly, never ducking behind a background singer or backing vocal, and hit her steps in stride as she caressed the crowd back to life, taking us back to the edge of anticipation before the headliners hit the stage.

The introduction of Brandy & Monica picked up where the first commercial left off. This was a movie, with production, with promise, and when the elevator arrived…so did the show. The symbolism of two women taking it to the top together, in a sold out show, opening their set by trading off stories and songs showcased a very necessary kind of energy. It was theatrical and fun in a way that looked like the old award shows, when artists came out and played off of each other’s energy to give the crowd a reason to relive their music. And in this case it was a reminder of how much we have had the privilege of taking for granted.

Brandy is dead serious about her music. She displayed the presence of a performer committed to the excellence of a show from inception to execution. The level of precision in how she blended her notes with the overall mix, her handling of when to pull back, go deep, change a note or add a bit of vibrato was like watching a master chef at work, blending all of the ingredients of many dishes to create a masterpiece.

Most live performers today, do not exude this level of control in live shows because it’s a product of extreme discipline, study, and precision. Said differently, it’s really hard to pull off, and requires a lot of talent and commitment to excellence to deliver consistently. Brandy knew exactly when and how to strike sonically, and if every sound had cut out it was clear she could have and would have stood in that hall and sang every song acappella with no problem. Whether uptempo or ballad, she came with nuance and complexity that is a rare find in live R&B these days, too many artists are afraid to stand in the moment, in the emotion, and give themselves over to the songs.

We never drowned in the music that Brandy brought us, because Monica kept the energy moving. She presented a certain gravitas that kept the audience anchored, but not burdened. Her energy was sure and steady. No matter how much we went up with a hit, or swayed with a ballad. She connected throughout the show, serving as a throughline even as her catalog connected the past and present together in a way that just felt good.

Brandy and Monica both honored their mentor Whitney Houston. They did this with the videos, and montages, with a song and some stories, but more so with how they carried out her legacy. Whitney Houston could stand on a stage and deliver a ballad with command, control, and connection.

In an instant gratification world, ballads make people uncomfortable because they are slow, steeping, and have a rolling power like a hurricane, that can leave devastation and cleansing in their wake. So many elements of how these women delivered their music spoke to their ability to honor a woman whose gift is timeless, while acknowledging the necessity of growth and sisterhood.

While the show’s grand finale was the hit single that started this story decades ago, every movement and moment made clear that the boy is and was irrelevant. The music, the message, and the muses are here to stay.