Miley Cyrus was not my mummy-as-chaperone-concert-of-choice, but I went along to Vector Arena on Wednesday evening, with my three mini-skirted charges (plus 6000 odd other un-dressed-up damsels) with an open mind. And heart. Expecting a song and dance extravaganza of international proportions.
But as soon as Miley appeared with her dancers, more akin to a weird and wonderful side show display, I felt a tad let down. Yes those girls could twerk, but the dwarf in the fembot bikini and the giant in white lycra with nips barely contained in a bustier all night was plain WEIRD. Miley. Weird. The first time she spoke to the audience (and she rambled quite a bit, even in the middle of songs) she f’d and blinded and called us motherf**kers. Speak for yourself. Miley.
‘I’m pretty f**ked up New Zealand,’ she claimed. ‘I came direct from California. Flew through the night…I usually get f88ked up at night…’
I wondered what she was on. Becks. Presciption meds. Voddy&lemonade, like the two tattoed chicks in front of us with a tray of four.
As security pulled crushed sweaty girls from the front of the mosh, Miley twerked, grabbed her crotch and thrust her pelvis faster than Elvis. And sang. A colourful video montage of her in perilous semi-nude poses played on the stage behind her. She changed her jazzergetics inspired high cut spangly leotards several times. Suffered from wedgees, ocassionally ficking the side of her bottoms out of her crack or just hoiking them up further.
Girls flashed their titties at her. Some threw their bras. The audience was having fun. Going wild in a safe, mainly female domain. Why not. I’ve flashed my titties before in times of extreme, possibly booze assisted excitement (hasn’t every young perky girl?) Plus I did it at boys, not an uber toned pitch perfect, 21 year old pop star.
A star with 6 albums under her wing and over 1 million in sales for each. Miley’s well timed twerk-out, at the MVA’s in 2013, wearing a nude pvc bikini has obviously paid off. Highly. The girl oozes confidence, if a little crudely. She’s mega successful. Rich. And famous.
But is this really girl power? I sat between songs and mulled Miley over. Everyone else danced and yelled for more beside me.
A crazy conglomeration of JUNK was thrown on stage. Miley loved it. She swooped down and picked out the best of it and put it on. Fairy wings. Headbands. A plastic penis puppet, looming large on the 2nd screen, projecting her every move. NO.
Jeesh I would have wondered where those things had been. The furry animal hat with long ears. The stuffed furry sea horse. Though this was a ‘low rent... depraved and demeaning… sleaze fest ,’ said the NZ Herald.
Yet the fans lapped it up like a lecture on life. A lesson on how to behave. How to assert yourself in the adult world. A bawdy act of misplaced feminism? Or an empowering UP-you to all the haters. The judgers. She dedicated, We Can’t Stop ‘to all the people doing nothing with their lives, nothing for the world but criticising others. We all know the world needs a lot of help right now.’ Miley wisdom.
Yep, I think that’s what this diminutive dirty south hip hop singer is on about. All her overt sexual moves. Her acting like she’s a boy with a blown up Bangerz Tour banana. It’s just a casual up-you. Look where I am? Who’s laughing now? Yeah.
And would we be so affronted us mums and dads and JUDGERS if she was a man? Michael Jackson never got a bad wrap for hiking his Johnson in Thriller. Did he? And Elvis was just a jolly warm breath of fresh air to sex starved youth when he hit the dance floor.
Sure some of those over excited sweet-young-things got a bit flashy, thanks to Miley’s overt affirmations that going-over-the-top (or under) is okay. I passed a girl, in the melee of the post concert departure. ‘Miley Cyrus saw my titties,’ she chorused, lifting her top partially for her friends. I doubt this act of exhibitionism will translate into a future job in the sex industry.
Miley devoted a song to all the ‘small tittie girls like me,’ after holding up a massive black bra. Demeaning? Mmmm. I bet she made those girls feel good about their A-cups. I definitely thought about my B’s. If only for a moment. I also couldn’t help thinking what her 31 year old self will think when she looks back in ten years time…
So if you’ve been a bit prude-y, I know I have, you might feel better about judging this young, successful, albeit at times extremely bawdy pussy rubbing woman, if you buy her remix of - ‘Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds’. Here's a wee snippet:
You'll find it on iTunes. All proceeds go to helping cats and dogs in the Oklahoma Shelter. Meow Miley.
She came in like a wreck-ing-ball. All right. There was no inflated tongue slide. Darn. But for the brief moments she realized her true talent; as in going all country and singing Johnny Cash’s, A Boy Named Sue, then screaming with operatic verve, I’ll Take Care of You, I forgave her her earlier bubblegum-crotch-ballads and badly dressed dance troupe (let’s not even talk about the g-body costume malfunction (not hers) while she and her troupe wore large false brown booties).
Country and cover’s where it’s at for me and Miley. Just hope she gets on back there real soon. Ya all.
(I take no responsibility for the poor quality of these pics, it was in the lap of the gods)