That may have been part of the problem. Lambert delivered an arena-scaled show — both visually (with lasers, costume changes, and four dancers) and sonically — in a cozy, in-the-round setting. The ambition was admirable, but Lambert was so focused on the nonexistent bleachers that he often shot right past the audience. The same problem plagued the booming sound mix, which pulverized everything into indistinctness.
Lambert was also poorly served by musical director and guitarist Monte Pittman, whose mission seemed to be to saddle the singer with a charmlessly glum Evanescence tribute band. Even songs that should have been gimmes failed to sparkle, such as a cover of “20th Century Boy’’ that was more Sammy Hagar than T. Rex.
With songs like the churning “Sure Fire Winners’’ and the flavorless “Music Again,’’ Lambert’s material suffered the same dreary lack of consequence that all “Idol’’ contestants face on their debuts, but a few rays of light cracked through. “Fever’’ reconfigured the groove from David Bowie’s “Fashion’’ into a Scissor Sisters club-pop jam. Backed only by keyboardist Camila Grey, the quasi-operatic “Soaked’’ found Lambert in Josh Groban/Andrea Bocelli mode, but in the absence of his lauded version of Tears For Fears’ “Mad World,’’ it was an effective cool down.
But there was a lot about Lambert’s performance, which came across like a high-school talent show’s idea of edgy glam, complete with learn-to-love-yourself messages. Underneath the hard guitars of the set-closing (and thrown-bra-inspiring) “If I Had You,’’ it was possible to hear the dance remix begging to break free. Lambert might possess an uncommon vocal ability, but he still hasn’t quite hit on how best to use it.
Opener (and Lambert’s “Idol’’ season-mate) Allison Iraheta’s music was just like her hair: a multicolored riot but predominantly Pink, though any snarl in her voice and her songs was all but diluted by the muddle of her sound mix. She was followed by Orianthi, whose apparent need to fit as many notes as possible between lyrics made her come off like the Lambert of guitar shredders, all confident technical mastery accomplishing little.
Marc Hirsh can be reached at officialmarc@gmail.com
