For her first headlining tour in an innovative three-decade career, Elliott unleashed a relentless and exhilarating display of theatrical and visual ambition.
It’s nearly impossible to fathom that until this summer, almost three decades into her career, Missy Elliott had never headlined an arena tour. One of the most influential hip-hop and pop performers, songwriters and producers of all time, she built a career on hyperreal imagery and music that suggested an intergalactic, quirky, sensual future that even now feels fanciful and far-off.
And judging by the performance Elliott, 53, delivered at Barclays Center in Brooklyn on Monday night, it would have been impossible to ascertain that she’d never toured at this level before. The deftness and imagination on display suggested a performer with a hyperdeveloped sense of image-making, a bone-deep understanding of her catalog, and a desire to make up for lost time and opportunity.
The tour, titled Out of This World — the Missy Elliott Experience, was a taut, relentless and exhilarating 75 minutes full of theatrical and visual ambition. At times, it had the complexity and density of recent peak pop spectacles, like Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour, or the Weeknd’s 2021 Super Bowl halftime show. But it was also kin to the films of Baz Luhrmann, Greta Gerwig’s “Barbie,” “RuPaul’s Drag Race,” the opening ceremony of the Paris Olympics — events in which precision, creativity and absurdism comfortably coexist, and actually rely upon each other.
The show was less a conventional concert than a dynamic carnivalesque D.J. set of strung-together Elliott smashes (her own, mainly, but at one point late in the night, some which she wrote or produced for others, like Aaliyah). It presented as one grand adventure — the front-loaded section of hits like “Sock It 2 Me,” “I’m Really Hot” and “The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)” (which was preceded by a quizzical nod to “Singin’ in the Rain”) wasn’t much more distinctive than the mid-show run of sex romps “Get Ur Freak On,” “One Minute Man” and “Hot Boyz.” And neither of those sections was more commanding than the sometimes choppy closing run, peppered with laser-beam bouncers like “Work It” and “Lose Control.” The less effective songs sprinkled throughout worked as accent pieces, but also at times undermined the potency of her biggest hits.
But Elliott was trying to make a point: Like all the most memorable and durable pop heroes, she has built a worldview much bigger than any one of her songs.
