Live Review: Miley Cyrus, Lolawolf

Whether the purple silicone dildo was thrown on stage by a fan or was actually a set piece of the entire tour the way Miley ‘the iconic chronic crotch grabber’ Cyrus instinctually seized it from the ground suggested that she has a certain sense of familiarity with wildly swinging such devices during a performance…

New York trio and opening support act Lolawolf opted to present a more traditional performance, focused surprisingly enough – on the music itself! Zoe Kravitz uses her voice and presence to create a great sense of mystery, allure and captivation around the dynamic soundscapes of her band. After close to an hour of quite impressive, yet entirely underappreciated electronic R&B stylings, room was made way for Cyrus herself.

As the show opened and high-pitched screams emanated throughout the Entertainment Centre louder than the rumbling bass itself, one could only wonder whether Cyrus’ entrance was inspired by a salvia-fuelled viewing of Harry Potter And The Chamber of Secrets, as the perky 21-year-old slid out the mouth of a monument-sized projection of her own face, and down a slippery dip set to look like her own tongue, basilisk style.

Pic by Jennifer Oakes.

As dancers dressed as various animals and some twerking women surrounded Cyrus on stage it was obvious from early on that not only did the majority of her teen fans have no idea what her back catalogue sounded like or had even listened to a Cyrus record from start to finish, but that this show was far more about spectacle than sound. The Bangerz tour would actually sit more comfortably in musical theatre, and it’s a damn shame more authentic shows don’t have the net worth to haul in equally impressive production values.

Miley Cyrus’ ability to prance and dance around on stage while belting out vocals for two hours nonstop has to be commended.  But it is disappointing when she could most definitely have evolved into something entirely more inspiring, or soulful when, say what you will, her adulthood liberation was met with upmarket executives who likely moulded her sound. Which save for the radio hits, being the only songs Australian fans actually knew the words to, is disjointed as all hell.

Sigmund Freud would have had a field day (read year) with the apparent latency that occurred during the phallic stage of Miley’s psychosexual development. In her favour she did make an attempt to cover The Beatles’ Lucy In the Sky with Diamonds, made some comments in support of love, equality and even the importance of following your dreams.

The ticket price was holistically not worth the three encore songs everyone had solely come to see, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the show had been envisioned by a team of epileptics subjected to the Ludovico technique while under the influence of synthetic acid that was cooked in a Mardi Gras toilet bowl.