BORN THIS WAY BALL: A Review

And kept to her promise, she did.

Even if you've been completely isolated from the pop cultural stratosphere for the last few decades, chances are that you'll still at least vaguely figure out what you're in for in a concert by a songstress that goes by the seemingly nonsensical disyllabic moniker of Gaga. And true to her name, the Lady didn't disappoint in her Singapore leg of her Born This Way Ball Tour. Escalating the craziness to a whole new level -- one that arguably outdoes her own Monster Ball ensembles -- the concert was nothing short of stunning, with the balance delicately tipped between the dipoles of batshit, insane raunchiness and mellow, heart-wrenching solemnity. Really, you should've known; South Korea made it adult-only, the Philippines threatened to jail her and Indonesia cancelled her concert altogether.

After an hour or two of alternating between fist-pumping (and occasionally bizarre; KnifeParty's Internet Friends made a guest appearance) electro tracks by DJ Zedd and sombre classical tracks by the likes of Wagner, Beethoven and Chopin, the imposing castle, previously veiled by black curtains, was illuminated to the roaring crowd. The medieval, somewhat Gothic structure was juxtaposed to the deafening marches and the edgy, neo-Nazi garments of the ghastly henchmen welcoming the entrance of the Lady.

And from the moment the petite, five-feet-one silhouette appeared on a unicorn, in an Armani-designed, spike-encrusted outfit that looked like something straight out of Predator, the audience knew the they were in for a wild ride.

In that respect, it was appropriate that she opened the setlist with the soaring, Springsteen-esque track Highway Unicorn (Road to Love) before launching into the ghastly, opera-esque vocals of the sonically different Government Hooker. And a hooker she was, with choreographed sex simulations, a raunchy lap-dance and seductive dry-humps which culminated in her firing a shot towards a government official and the door of the castle. Ouch.

The audience was treated to a ghoulish spoken interlude by an eerie head-in-the-sky animatronic (that goes by the name of Mother G.O.A.T) during Gaga's brief disappearance; not before long, she reappeared -- this time assuming the form of a distressed woman in labour (complete with Christian Louboutin red-soles) birthing a troupe of amnion-covered dancers before making her way out of the inflatable (and somewhat exaggerated in terms of size) female genitalia herself. Clad in an avant-garde, semi-translucent PVC robe, the songstress dived into the self-empowering anthem Born This Way, hitting the right notes while rocking the right moves (take that, Katy Perry), as the audience sang along at the top of their lungs. She stripped down to a latex ensemble -- one that almost resembles the one she rocked at the 2011 Grammy's -- for Black Jesus † Amen Fashion with blaring synthesizers in the background.

A costume change later, and the Lady's back. Now clad in a white, flowing robe that evokes imagery of Marie Antoinette and a matching white oblong helmet, Gaga performed Bloody Mary skating on stage while  churning verse after verse of high-pitched wails, Gregorian chants and sinuous coos. After yet another costume change (yes, I know what you're thinking. Her costume of choice this time? A mask resembling a caprine skull and a skeletal dress.), Gaga rocked that ol' chestnut Bad Romance, followed by its slick, controversial cousin Judas (in a considerably defiant move, as the song was banned on Singapore airplay), and had the entire arena rocking out in unison. It was unsurprising, really, considering that both songs boasted instantly catchy melodies and was parred with the performer's unwavering enthusiasm.

Act II of the show began with Gaga clad in a lovely baby-pink Senbazuru frock belting out Fashion of His Love whilst toying with a fur coat from a revolving wardrobe on stage. The track ended abruptly midway, and switched to the massively successful debut single Just Dance. Transitioning from one hit single to another, she moved on to LoveGame, in which she was clad in a Statue of Liberty-esque crown and a slick black single-sleeve. Telephone followed thereafter, but not before Gaga interacted with one of lucky members of the audience who happened to be recording the show with her cellphone. (Geddit? Cellphone? Telephone?)

And just when the show was in fear of starting to slip into mundane territory, Gaga immediately amped up the craziness level by nine thousand as she reappeared as/on/with (really, I can't tell) a motorcycle for Heavy Metal Lover, evoking memories of the astounding/atrocious (opinions diametrically differ) woman-bike centaur album cover for Born This Way. Between inaudible moans and melodramatic coos, Gaga revealed a soft side to her personality as she got the crowd to cheer for Jakarta, to which the entire arena of 12,000 endearingly obliged. "I always piss someone off, whether it's a person, a group of people or an entire nation," admits the agent provocateur, "But I'm a rebel, and I don't give a f***." And as the foreshadowing implied, she followed up with Bad Kids, clad in a vines/tendrils-resembling outfit by Armani.

An oft-quoted criticism against Gaga is that she's all-style, no substance; detractors argue that she relies solely on meat dresses, egg vessels and drag performances to prolong her fifteen minutes and to conceal the fact that she hasn't the vocal chops. Guess what? The Lady can sing! As though she was raising her middle finger to these critics (who have done obviously zero research), Gaga delivered her best vocal performance of the night in the song Hair. The song came after a birthday song and ten minutes of pep talk about dropouts, and this gem of a quote, "You should go, excuse me, you are blocking my spotlight. Now MOVE, please, move." Launching into the song proper, a stripped-down Stefani Germanotta delivered every heartfelt note of the song emotionally, as members of the eclectic audience openly wept.

The follow-up was the tried-and-tested Yoü and I, which became a firm fan favourite since Gaga's globe-trotting Monster Ball. The crowd-pleasing, spirit-uplifting track, with its straight-from-the-heart love song lyrics, was a vivid display of what Gaga is truly capable of and she ended the last note with a melismatic surprise. Electric Chapel, which succeeded the feel-good rock ballad, had an altogether different vibe to it, as Gaga wailed and strove to eclipse the thundering guitar chords.

Everything descended back into insanity as Gaga brought back her infamous DADT statement, the Franc Fernandez-designed meat dress. There was a twist to it, however; this time, it came in the form of a skirt, and was matched with gory pieces of meat hanging from a rack from the butcher's. Gaga rocked Americano, the full-fledged, flamenco-tinged mariachi record about disenfranchisement, before performing the very song that launched her into stardom, Poker Face. (Oh, and a shoutout to Larry Flynt was interspersed somewhere between both songs too.) Gone was the meat dress after the diptych of songs; this time, Gaga poked fun at herself and her ex-boyfriends (hear that, Luc?) as she was raised on a meat sofa allegedly made of Alejandro, Roberto and Fernando. You've guessed it -- she was here for Alejandro, complete with M16 brassiere and military garb, and the track culminated in a massive homoerotic orgy, not unlike the one in the video itself. 

A fan joked that Gaga kills someone for every Paparazzi performance; come to think of it, it seems almost canonically true as Gaga killed her boyfriend in the video, herself in the VMAs performance in 2009, and the Fame Monster anglerfish in the Monster Ball. Her next victim for the Born This Way Ball was none other than the hologramic head-in-the-sky Mother G.O.A.T that lip-synced the first verse of Paparazzi before Gaga took over and shot her to her death. Still dressed in a feminine Zorro garb, the songstress declared, “Music speaks every language, but…. I don’t speak German but I can if you like!” Scheiße, the gibberish German penultimate, featured flawless choreography with had the entire audience bobbing around to its thumping Eurodisco beats as Gaga aptly changed the "oh-oh-oh" lyrics to "Singapo-oh-oh-ore". The stage darkened at the end of the performance, leaving the audience perplexed: why the hell did she leave out The Edge of Glory and Marry the Night? 

It was all a calculated move, you see, and as part of the audience started to make their way out, the stage was illuminated once again, revealing the petite Gaga atop the balcony of the castle. Decked in Atelier Versace, she performed a full forty seconds of an acoustic version before launching into the studio version of The Edge of Glory; surprisingly, despite the fact that she had been singing and dancing for two straight hours before this, her vocals sounded immaculate and as emotionally stirring as ever (if not more so). You gotta give the girl props for challenging the boundaries in performances too; throughout the entire song, she remained on the edge (pun not intended) of the castle without barricades in a playful, tongue-in-cheek move of defying death (and gravity) in a song about death. Gaga ended the set with Marry the Night, her ode to the Big Apple with slight lyrical adjustments to pander to the Singapore context, as she continued to go all-out, rocking inexhaustibly as the audience went wild. And as the song ended, the audience had truly married the night. 

The entire affair was a helluva first-rate performance; featuring at least a gazillion different sartorial choices and twice as many hats to boot, a behemoth of a set and the sheer vividness of the props, the concert was truly a feast for the senses. The profanity-strewn language, the macabre and sacrilege and the overtly sexual dance routines may have got tongues wagging, but isn't that what defines a Gaga gig? Even if you discount all the visual props, the concert was still worth every single cent; for the eccentric pop cultural supernova belted note after note live, pranced around in anatomically and gravitationally impossible dance routines, and all in all, stunned the audience with her excellent showmanship. No analogy could come close to capture the very quintessence of it all, but Cirque du Soleil-meets-Kill Bill-meets-Predator could possibly give you a fraction of a glimpse into the sheer wonder of the concert. 

Biased? I may be, for I'm a Little Monster. Untrue? Definitely not, for it was riveting for every single second, and was worth every single cent, for every single member of the audience. 

★★★★★

Gaga ooh-la-la indeed,
Barbarella Germanotta