Getup & Go? Cher's Big 'Goodbye'

Final Tour or Not -- Heck, Singer or Not -- She Sure Puts On a Fabulous Spectacle

By Dave McKenna
Special to The Washington Post
Monday, July 1, 2002; Page C05

Pop stars use farewell tours about as commonly and honestly as rug stores do going-out-of-business sales. But Cher, at 56 the guiding light for so many one-named wonder gals of the last four decades, swears the end really is near for her as an arena act.

"I'm an artist before I'm a person," Cher had told "Entertainment Tonight" before kicking off the allegedly climactic tour. Likewise, her oddly paced extravaganza at MCI Center on Saturday proved that she's a clotheshorse before she's a singer.

The show's beginning was delayed by more than a half-hour because of transportation problems for Cher and her crew, but the delay didn't sap fans of their ardor -- they spent much of the downtime doing the wave. They roared when the PA system played a recording of "If I Could Turn Back Time," and roared louder as Cher glided down to the stage from the rafters sporting a sequined robe and headdress befitting a Queen of the Nile -- if the Nile ran through Branson.

"Let J. Lo and Britney follow that!" Cher said of her own entrance.

When the taped music stopped, Cher began belting out "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For." Even put to a dance mix, U2's tune seems overly sober for a Cher show, though one can imagine her using its title while rummaging backstage through her wardrobe or wig collection. No ensemble or coif stayed on her person for very long, and even those items that weren't replaced after just one song were constantly shifted to an opposite shoulder, yanked down, accessorized or had their appearance otherwise altered.

Though the set list skewed toward material released since Cher's disco-diva reincarnation of recent years, the middle portion of the show was earmarked to those fans who'd been with her longest. During a change of headdress, a video montage came on big screens and featured old-school Cher performing with another Bono, as in Sonny: "The Beat Goes On," "Baby Don't Go" and, inevitably, "I Got You ."

Cher reappeared in the flesh, wearing bell-bottoms and a cool crucifix pendant, to croon Bob Dylan's "All I Really Want to Do," her first hit single as a solo act from 1965, in a voice that all these years later remains as distinctive as Dylan's. (Pop historians have accused Cher of using that song to get counterculture credibility at the expense of the Byrds, who at the time had only recently had their first folk-rock hit with Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine Man" and were set to release "All I Really Want to Do" the same week that Cher's version hit the charts.) She also dusted off 1966's "Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)" and the politically incorrect "swarthy trio" of smash hits from the 1970s: "Half Breed," "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves" and "Dark Lady."

But it was the much more recent dance hits and pomp that caused the biggest buzz. On "Song for the Lonely," Cher shimmied amid a pack of backup dancers outfitted in what looked like surplus gear from "The Lion King." A Cirque du Soleil-type aerial troupe swung high above the stage during "We All Sleep Alone." For her 1989 power ballad "After All," she wore a billowy white peasant shirt and hip-hugging denims that could be called a Britney look by those unaware that Cher sported this outfit three decades ago; to help folks get the joke, Cher capped off the costume with a short blond wig. She later sported long black hair extensions and a slinky black bodysuit that covered little of her body save the bits for a romp through "If I Could Turn Back Time."

After one final wardrobe change, Cher, wearing a sequined red wig and a frilly sequined jumpsuit that Liberace would dismiss as gaudy, shouted above the crowd on her Grammy-winning hit "Believe."

When the house lights went up after the song, a groan went through the crowd as if fans had expected another encore. Though that ended the evening on a low note, if Cher decides she's not really going out of business, leaving the flock wanting more would seem a wise move.

© 2002 The Washington Post Company