I am a pretty jaded critic… but I did not get on the bash-Adele bandwagon. This always happens with suddenly successful artists, and it is often deserved. Not with her. Adele can fucking sing. Simple as that. She wrote this song as a teenager. She opens with it at the Royal Albert Hall, supremely confident, yet unabashedly grounded. She’s left a note for a fan sitting in a seat up in the balcony where she sat once, watching Alanis or somebody. Adele stands there in her plus-sized gown and her 1965 ‘do, and sings. No Madonna-echoing outfits, no bulemic pre-show purge, no laser show or Solid Gold dancers. Adele channels the essences of Dusty Springfield and Pet Clark, but the voice is her own. Adele swears a bit between songs, casually, as she talks about life and love. She’s a hometown girl who made it big; Adele’s a bit embarrassed by it all, but she’s worked hard – and it shows. She’s got halls full of fans, a world full of fans. Dave Grohl is a fan. Adele loves her fans as an asthmatic loves fresh air. Adele sings her songs, says her goodbyes, goes backstage and has a beer and a couple of cigarettes. Everyone whose jadedness has made them tin-eared can fuck off.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFFe0wLOxd0
