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by Frank Fligge
translation by Astrid Nolde-Gallasch
Mastered the balancing act at the border to kitsch
Chris de Burgh celebrated in the Westfalenhalle
He had promised his fans a big anniversary celebration. But when
Chris de Burgh returned on stage at a late Saturday night for the
second encore, he stated visibly moved: "This isn't a celebration -
it's a partyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" And then he played, as the cherry on the
cake of a furious concert, his personal party hits. Classics like "A
Hard Day's Night", "Pretty Woman", or right at the end, after more
than three hours without a break, "Hey Jude". Goosebumps final of a
goosebumps concert.
20 years Chris de Burgh on big stages. In the Dortmund Westfalenhalle
he had celebrated his international breakthrough in the early 80s
during the "Night Of Songs". The Westfalenhalle had been the very
first very big arena in 1984 that the pleasant Irishman filled up. 20
years later he filled it again. Without a problem. And he entrained
them again. Apparently without difficulties.
Without band. Just Chris de Burgh, either on guitar or at the piano -
like he has been doing for months on his "Road To Freedom" tour that
led him to the smaller concert halls. He had already been in Dortmund
in April. In the philharmonie.
Now there has been a lot of harmony too between the boyish midfifty
guy, who sometimes seems to be as shy as a pubescent teenager before
his first prom, and his audience. There was the six year old child
who gave him a self drawn picture on stage. There was the fanclub from
Wankendorf who was dressed in Santa Claus hats and Irish flags. There
were dozens of female fans who had harvested huge cut flower
plantations. Like they once did for Roy Black. And there was the
Spanish noble fan who was allowed to sing the great "Patricia The
Stripper" in front of 7,000 enviers, accompanied on the guitar by
Chris de Burgh. All of that may be close to the border of kitsch.
Certainly. But Chris de Burgh never crosses it. He is a songwriter,
who has a lot to tell in his songs and between them. Only few have
sung more movingly against wore than him. You can cry with his songs,
but you can also laugh tears about the anecdotes that he tells with a
lot of humour and esprit. And to be honest: Anyone who is able to move
the Westfalenhalle in all respects for over three hours only with
guitar or piano, is beyond any critics anyway.
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