“You look very good for your age,” Lionel Richie says generously, addressing a full and delighted O2. Now that he mentions it, so does he. Richie wears his 65 years exceptionally lightly, and his stamina – steaming through nearly two hours of hits without a break – is that of someone half his age. One of the few signs of mileage is the way his voice has changed: the silkiness of his 70s/80s purple patch has given way to something a bit gruffer, which is especially evident in extended versions of party pieces such as Dancing on the Ceiling and Running with the Night.
Otherwise, Richie is in fine fettle – better than he should be after 45 years in music, first as lead singer of the Commodores, then as one of the biggest solo artists of the 80s. It was undoubtedly his solo reign over the charts – the period that produced the indelible Hello and All Night Long, greeted here with wails of joy – that led to his being offered the Sunday heritage slot at this year’s Glastonbury. There were grumblings when he was added to the bill, but to complain that he abandoned his funk origins for a life of soft-soul crowd-pleasing is to miss the point of the man. Tonight, his adaptability produces a show that swings between raucous R&B and chocolate-box ballads, all of it fantastic.
Richie also brings a sliver of the church to proceedings. The Alabama-born singer has the background, having grown up Episcopalian, and written the Commodores’ concert favourite, Jesus is Love. It’s there in his preacherly repetition of key phrases, such as, “Who do you call on?” The obvious answer, screamed back at him, is: “Lionel Richie!” It’s also present in the way he takes the audience higher by sequencing four of his biggest hits, from Say You, Say Me to All Night Long into one lengthy, expertly judged sing-along – more Sunday-night megachurch than pop gig.
Mindful of the fact that this is a mainstream crowd, he performs the deathless lust song Brick House not in the roiling funk style of the original but as a pop tune. There are also plenty of easily digestible but hilarious quips. Recounting how Diana Ross consistently refuses to join him on this tour to perform their 1981 duet Endless Love, he asks the female two-thirds of the house to sing her part. “You’re Diana, and I’m … me,” he says scampishly, as his fans collapse once again into laughter and squeals.
• At SSE Hydro, Glasgow (0141-248 3000), 6 March, then touring.
