At a time when the word “weird” gets loosely thrown around, the greatest surprise of seeing Missy Elliott sell out hockey arena after hockey arena this summer is that hip hop’s greatest weirdo had never had the opportunity to bask in this tour’s sort of mass adulation. Oddly (or weirdly), Elliott had never before bothered to host a headlining stint. That made her first tour-topping Philly showcase at the Wells Fargo Center all the more special to its mix of Missy worshippers: the older women in gold lamé, men in baggy pleats and post-2000 millennials in headbands and Day-Glo tights.
Based as it was in alien-spaceship-landing backdrops and oversized, Missy-heads flying behind a team of colorful dancers, the ever-eccentric Elliott and her familiars (openers Busta Rhyme and Ciara, co-producer/onstage guest Timbaland) created a future-forward live program that reveled in their shared past—one that was already far ahead of its time when each of Elliott’s shockingly innovative hits was released. (Around since the mid-’90s, Missy released her latest album, The Cookbook, almost 20 years ago.)
For what feels like forever, Elliott has made round-the-way blipping electro-pop, blooping hip hop and robot R&B that sounds like nothing else. So, perhaps, in 2024, we have very nearly caught up to her.
Perhaps.
Diminutive in real life, Elliott was occasionally dwarfed within her undulating mass of dancers, costume changes and the mega-ness of her video program’s totemic entirety—say, the vision of Elliott in a Mega Man outfit during “Sock It 2 Me.” Surely, it was on purpose that she looked like her lock-stepping movement artists in orange space-cop outfits (maybe, Elliott’s was just a little more sparkly) during “Throw It Back” and “Cool Off.” Or when she and her fellow dancers were decked out in neon-graffiti furs for “Ching-A-Ling.”
Yet, as the rapping/singing voice within “Gossip Folks” (where she hovered on a small stage above the audience), “She’s A Bitch” (complete with a long-flowing-cape set to carry her away) and “Pussycat” (with its girl-group-era team of singing movement artists swarming around her), Elliot—as a vocal presence—was unparalleled. Who else could maintain such might speed-rapping and singing through effervescent hits such as “The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)” (which followed a Singin’ In The Rain set piece) or her askew-rhythmic “Work It” (executed while working the crowd near show’s end)? That she could keep up with her own odd, hyper-speed beats was a joy to behold. And as each track banked into the next, moving quicker and harder toward finale, Elliot was faster than a speeding bullet and, seemingly, loving every moment of it.
Only when she thanked the crowd and welcomed her old friends and show openers to the stage did Elliot take a breath, as she heaped praise on her longest-lasting collaborator, Timbaland (for the deep-voiced “Up Jumps Da Boogie”), and her openers Rhymes (“Touch It”) and Ciara (on the show-closing “Lose Control”). Both of Elliott’s early-evening acts crafted their own sensational, hit-filled showcases. In particular, the immensity of the Wells Fargo was just perfect for barking Busta (also dressed for the future in black-and-silver astro-gear), his eternal sidekick Spliff Star and their Philly-born DJ Scratchator (whose mom and 97-year-old grandmother were in the audience).
Yet, no one else could touch Missy Elliott for the scope of her decades-long material and the wealth of its weirdness, which somehow communicates, intelligently and contagiously, to her rabid fan base. This was easily one of 2024’s best live shows, setting the highest of bars for concerts to follow.
—A.D. Amorosi
