Until Carly Simon walked onto the Gusman Center for the Performing Arts stage Friday night, and opened her mouth to sing her opening number -- Back the Way -- it was hard to believe her fans would actually ever see her do a concert in Miami.
Carly Simon. In concert. In Miami.
There will be a woman president of the United States before that will ever occur. But wonder of wonders, the concert happened -- and it only took 45 years after the star's first record as one-half of folk duo The Simon Sisters with older sister Lucy, and 37 years after her eponymous solo debut LP, to get the reluctant singer-songwriter to board a jet and perform here.
Happily, we can trot out the hoary cliché: the wait was worth it.
For about 90 minutes, with son Ben Taylor on guitars and harmonies, and other long-time musical associates rounding out her band, Simon sang several '70s and '80s hits like Anticipation, You're So Vain, Coming Around Again and Let the River Run. There were some unexpected older album cuts, dusted and buffed to sound fresh: It Was So Easy from No Secrets and De Bat (Fly in Me Face) from Boys in the Trees. Also, Simon served four songs from her striking new album, This Kind of Love, one of her most personal and melodic releases.
The concert was part of a Carly Simon weekend, initially proposed by Florida International University's Department of Theater more than a year ago. Director Phillip Church envisioned a stage presentation of Simon's ''family opera'' Romulus Hunt to feature all-local actors. His idea grew; eventually CHARLEE, a not-for-profit care center for children who have been abandoned, abused or neglected, saw the possibilities in pairing the messages of Simon's opera -- which deals with the effects of divorce on children -- and many of her introspective pop songs, with the work they do on behalf of children.
The resulting weekend featured her concert Friday night and the opera Saturday at the Gusman. Proceeds of both benefit CHARLEE Homes for Children.
This became more than just a run-through of familiar and not-so-familiar songs. It was the right star for the right charity. Simon sang of the tears and fears of loving her now adult children (with ex-husband, singer James Taylor) on the new Hold Out Your Heart. She had an appropriate segue from that one into Island, a haunting mid tempo tune her son originally wrote and recorded about his ''stubborn'' sister Sally. Now, mom's singing it, and quite well.
Simon took time to tease her lanky son for wearing ''Clark Kent glasses'' on stage. Taylor, 31, took the ribbing and, in turn, paid tribute to his mom after that beautiful reading of Island: ``If I can recommend a life experience, have Carly Simon play one of your songs on stage.''
At 62, Simon can't sing her classics the way they were written when she was in her late 20s. Those percussive, full-voice choruses will have to exist solely on CDs and MP3s now. Instead, she re-keyed oldies like Anticipation, swapping its original staccato pop/rock thrust for a lush acoustic frame that could have used a bit more tightening on the vocal harmonies.
But other new arrangements were wonderful. Let the River Run's pristine and delicate harmonies took on a distinct Simon & Garfunkel flavor. You're So Vain, gone acoustic and more playful, gained its muscle from Taylor's aggressive harmonies on the ''clouds in my coffee'' refrain. ''These songs have different meanings because we're old now,'' Simon teased as she introduced her familial Coming Around Again, a hit single director Mike Nichols originally featured in his 1986 movie, Heartburn.
The feeling on stage was casual, with mostly acoustic instrumentation, and warm. Engagingly, endlessly warm. Family without cloying sentiment. Some serious talk, too. Taylor and friend, gifted musician-songwriter David Saw, sang a potent protest song about the state of American politics from a forthcoming album they have been working on. The band rocked with passion on a powerful cover of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young's Ohio, a blistering classic about the 1970 Kent State shootings.
At its conclusion, Simon paused, head down, her hand knitting her temple. Silence. An anxiety attack? It wouldn't be her first. She once canceled a tour after going to pieces on stage 28 years ago. Call this one a mere speed bump, not a train wreck. A sense of relief fell over the Gusman crowd when Simon perked up. ''I had a moment,'' she explained, then joked, ``sometimes it happens to the near greats.''
These little frailties, the occasional flubbed lyric or the false start on How Can You Ever Forget only added to the concert's immense appeal. In a period of overly choreographed, impersonal concert spectacles devoid of spontaneity, Simon's humanity and her close-knit band -- and the reason for the evening itself -- proved the ultimate reality show. Hopefully, this will be the start of more regular visits.
