Two of soul’s most visceral singers are united on the King and Queen of Hearts tour, as this outing has been billed. “King and Queen” was Blige’s idea: “I came up with the title from understanding that is who we are,” she said – a polite way of declaring that she and Maxwell have, between them, won 11 Grammys and Blige alone has sold upwards of 50m albums. Both came of age professionally in the 1990s, when R&B adopted elements of conscious politics and hip-hop swagger, creating genre offshoots to which both are still faithful. Yet references on social media that the pair are “throwbacks” overlook the fact that both are also indisputably tuned into 2016.
Blige, for one thing, has evolved beyond the strong-woman-going-it-alone archetype. Aware that there can be no progress if men aren’t included in the conversation, she uses segments of her set as consciousness-raising sessions for “the fellas” in the crowd. Domestic violence, which she’s personally witnessed, is top of the agenda. “Don’t think that it’s ever OK to put your hands on women,” she says, quivering with the aftershock of having delivered an immense version of the 2011 single Don’t Mind. “We expect you to treat us like a queen!”
Blige – one of soul’s great voices and survivors – hasn’t always been treated like a queen. Even now, she’s enduring what she calls “some heavy shit” – a divorce from her husband and manager Kendu Isaacs – and her voice is ravaged. The outrage is communicated in tonight’s only new song, Thick of It, and from there, the mood intensifies. Not Gon’ Cry, lengthily extended as she paces the stage, finally explodes into the improvised payoff line: “I said, he wasn’t worth it!” The entire set is peppered with exhortations to love ourselves, as Blige says she has learned to. Yet the penultimate song, No More Drama, is attended by fury: she jumps up and down, howling. It could be a piece of stagecraft, but as she finishes to an ovation, it feels as if she’s given everything she can.
Some people came only to see her; half a dozen women in my row leave during the interval and don’t return for Maxwell, who recently returned to music after a seven-year absence with the much-praised album blackSUMMERS’night. But the 43-year-old neo-soul pioneer complements his fellow New Yorker perfectly. He’s a male ally whose loverman persona is enlightened enough to accommodate a dramatic cover of his longtime favourite Kate Bush song, This Woman’s Work. Falsetto primed and dark suit immaculate, he sails through what fans want to hear – little from the new record, it turns out, but plenty of percolating funk from his 1996 debut album, Urban Hang Suite. The room is too large for an artist whose eroticism and loose grooves are best served by intimacy, but the eroticism is potent enough to provide a contrast to Blige, and a distinctiveness that keeps her from dominating the evening.
•At Manchester Arena, on 30 October. Box office: 0844-847 8000.
