Music

Joss Stone *** 1/2

Joshua Longobardy

Joss Stone *** 1/2

March 29, The Joint

The glory of the red robin is, of course, its native, beautiful and almost continuous singing voice: Few other birds can match it. The voice of the young robin, moreover, is oftentimes distinct among its own species, too, because it has a tendency to forsake restraint and synchronicity in the delight of its own new singing powers.

Las Vegas is not the robin’s natural habitat. A sighting of it here in town, then, is an unmistakable event.

Which was exactly my thought while watching Joss Stone—with her rich red hair and soulful voice—perform barefoot in front of a packed house at the Joint. It was a natural experience.

Her set was complete with a seven-piece band and three backup vocals, all of whom were fine and talented, and all of whom Stone had a tendency to leave behind whenever the power of her own sidereal voice struck her. It was as if no one on stage, nor the crowd, was more invigorated by the sound of Joss Stone songs than Joss Stone.

That was very noticeable.

But it did not matter. Because when that young, red-haired robin from England offered an untamed rendition of “Put Your Hands on Me,” and then followed it up by singing the infallible and supercharged “Victim of a Foolish Heart,” I knew that never had I more wanted to cage a bird and bring her home and call her my own, than on that night.

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