DESTINY'S CHILD with MARIO , AMERIE and TYRA at the Air Canada Centre, August 10. Tickets: $63-$83. Attendance: sold out. Rating: NNNN Rating: NNNN
At the Destiny's Child show at the Air Canada Centre, I was scared for my life.
After spending half an hour bringing the immense crowd to a boil with a hit-single-cluttered, expensive, sexually electrified spectacle of sequins and glitter with no fewer than nine costume changes, roving platforms, the massive letters "D" and "C" and backup dancers with visible panties in front of Imax-size video projections, the painfully hot Beyoncé Knowles , Michelle Williams and Kelly Rowland got ready to sing Cater 2 U, their sultry slow jam about how they want to cook for and bathe their men. They asked all the dudes in the audience to come up so they could each Cater 2 one special man.
If a major earthquake is a 7.1 on the Richter scale, this was a 62.7. Horny, sweaty men stampeded from all corners of the arena toward where I sat. The smell of lust (i.e. B.O.) was overwhelming.
"Beyoncé!!!" they shrieked, arms flailing in the air, hitting my face, shitty-resolution cellphone cameras snapping. This was Destiny's Child's farewell tour, everyone's last chance for a lap dance from the Houston super-trio.
Finally, co-caterers Williams and Rowland had their guys, two serious, smooth brothas hand-picked from the crowd. One wore a T-shirt that read, "Kelly, let me cater 2 U." He came prepared. Only Beyoncé remained, and the intensity doubled - as did the security.
Looking dramatically indecisive, she paced for minutes. "What about that thug in the football jersey?" Williams suggested. Knowles agreed.
His name was Jerry, and his top, with "05" sprawled across it, was so tight you could see his nipples if you weren't focusing on his perfectly done blond dye job with frosted tips. He sat gingerly on a Lucite box, knees together, put his palm to his chest burlesque-style and mouthed, "Oh my god."
Behind me was an ocean of disappointed faces.
What of the rest of the show? Opening hotties Amerie and Mario (who tore his tank top apart, peeled it off, and humped the air like Usher) performed well-staged and choreographed numbers clogged with similar-sounding pop R&B schlock.
And the headliners' performance was amazing. You know Destiny's Child can dance like hell and belt like Baptist choirmasters (as they all proved during their explosive solo sets).
But Jerry really said it best: "Oh my god."