No big Afro wig, no loud guitars, no Mick Jagger.
Lisa Fischer, backup singer extraordinaire for the Rolling Stones, arrived on the stage of the Dakota Jazz Club Tuesday, kicked off her sandals and declared this to be her living room.
Then she delivered an extraordinary evening of art songs, not arena rock, of whispers, not wails, of enrichment, not excitement. Unless your idea of excitement is deeply intellectual, deeply soulful, deeply meditative music — one strikingly imaginative interpretation of a song (famous or obscure) after another.
Take "Wild Horses," which often felt like a toss-off country plaint when Jagger did it. Fischer remounted "Wild Horses" as a song of quiet strength and determination, all the while showcasing her wondrous voice as she effortlessly glided from a high operatic note to a low-down spiritual moan, then to a soul tangent, a Gregorian-like chant and back to a spiritual embrace. Lisa Fischer can definitely drag you away.
Now 56, she released her first solo album in 1991 and won a Grammy but then opted for the life of a backup singer, with Luther Vandross, Tina Turner, Sting and others. She's performed on every Stones tour since 1989. Then, in 2012, she unintentionally stole the show in the Oscar-winning documentary about backup singers, "20 Feet from Stardom." Finally this year, she has undertaken her first solo tour ever.
She performed at the Dakota for one night in September and now, after touring Australia and New Zealand with the Stones, she has returned to Minneapolis for a three-night engagement with her mostly acoustic trio.
If she's a sexy glamazon onstage with the Stones, on her own she's a beatific earth-mother, wearing a stocking cap (not a wig), ditching the stiletto boots for barefeet and dialing down the volume and often singing without a microphone. But her repertoire still draws heavily from the Stones ("it's like playing with the boys' toys").
However, she opened Tuesday's 85-minute first set with a breathtaking reading of Amy Grant's "Breath of Heaven." After beginning with a wordless coo, the physically demonstrative Fischer eventually increased the intensity, but not the volume, as she turned a vaguely religious piece into a spare, almost jazzy meditation.