The Paramount Theatre, with its ornately gilded proscenium and heavy crimson curtains, seemed an appropriate venue for Taylor Hicks’ show Sunday night.
The winner of season five of “American Idol,” Hicks’ energetic stage presence and raspy voice filled every corner of the historic theater, even if a few seats in the back remained empty. The pop-soul singer’s pipes also deftly penetrated the omnipresent wall of horns and guitar in his seven-piece band – a feat considering their shrillness.
The Soul Patrol, Hicks’ rabid group of fans cultivated during his “Idol” stint, set the tone. Middle-aged women with huge, brightly colored Soul Patrol buttons screamed during songs like “Give Me Tonight,” from Hicks’ recent self-titled disc. Shrieks of “We love you, Taylor!” punctuated nearly every interstitial moment.
The Apollo Theater it was not, but Hicks provided more than enough electricity to keep the crowd going. As predictable as the songs were, with loping mid-tempo percussion and minor-major melody shifts, Hicks and his band played them hard. The chorus of “Dream Myself Awake” was generic in its construction, but Hicks poured himself into every note, animated to the point of possession. By press time, sweat had thoroughly soaked through the spine of his thick gray sports coat.
The nimble, acoustic-led number “The Deal” proved Hicks can write songs, too, and showcased his instrumental dexterity. Smoking harmonica solos during songs like “My Friend” also put to rest any doubts of his musicianship.
Hicks misstepped with the treacly adult contemporary ballad “Just to Feel that Way,” the (unsurprising) current single from his album. In most songs he acted like a preacher at a tent revival, but here he stepped back to let lyrical and performance clichés take over.
If Hicks stuck more to retro-minded numbers like “The Runaround,” or any of the solid covers that fill his repertoire (Pink Floyd, Steve Winwood) the set might have been stronger. As it stands, Hicks has a ways to go if he wants to be counted among his own idols Otis Redding and Ray Charles.
Like the oversized Ray Charles bobblehead doll that sat atop a bass amp, the night was agreeable but ultimately a little plastic.
Staff writer John Wenzel can be reached at 303-954-1642 or jwenzel@denverpost.com.
