Frankfurt. Yes, the wild Kim and the “Kids in America”. She has put on once more her sailors shirt in black and white (now in XL) that shone towards our faces in a rather grainy video in 1981. And that is celebrated with standing ovations as even during times when virtually every erotic confused pubescent pasted her bleach-blonde “Bravo”-Starschnitt over ABBA’s Agnetha.
It’s hard to get over the wonder. And of course this could be wildly acclaimed comeback even with a lot of pre-goodwill is not expected. On the contrary. The critics were ready with their carving knives and even die-hard retro fans should probably be skeptical pilgrimage to the Old Opera House. For Kim Wilde was like the “golden” eighties really just a nice nostalgic projection.
At best. Already in 1996 she had flung the pop stuff, put on the rubber boots to plant ornamental flowers and tree houses to bring horticultural literature on paper and to have children. She couldn’t have made her sex symbol image crumble more thoroughly.
Together with Nena
Suddenly, mid new millennium, she stood there pretty roly-poly, Domina in black leather, but on stage again – in addition to Nena, with typical crystalline voice to their “Irgendwie, irgendwo, irgendwann”, to sing in English. Their 2006 disc “Never say never” flopped yet, and in 2009 she appeared on the bargain counter-fun caravan with the ‘Nokia Night of the Proms’.
But then, shortly after her fiftieth birthday and the tragic death of Michael Jackson, it is not a joke, a UFO over the garden flew (!) – And she decided to go with their latest album “Come out and play” on tour. Whether they had now but looked too deeply into the domestic hemp bed was not explained.
It’s certain, however: Kimberley Wilde celebrated in Frankfurt an appearance that is so great because she genuine, honest and authentic acts in the best sense. Despite an irritating distortion at the beginning: it is one of the few concerts that do the right thing at the right moment and the main character never makes the attempt to be something she no longer is. Kim Wilde has visibly lost weight and is held as “Bardot of Pop” in a black business suit on the show stairs – as if waiting for ‘King of the world’ in the office as a real estate customer.
She has in addition to the new material, best suited for classic car convertible drivers, of course, the old, unbreakable hits in her luggage, “Chequered Love”, “Cambodia”, “You Came,” “Hangin ‘on” and, quite clever, as the last addition of “Kids in America”. There are with Tasmin Archer “Sleeping Satellite” an absolutely successful, with Alphaville’s “Forever Young” at least a nice piece of self-ironic cover, and “Jessica” a delightful song gimmick, which is devoted to her dog.
Speaking of family: The moody acoustic interlude sitting there as usual brother Ricky (guitar), who has the most red-haired, deepest cleavage-wearing visitor to a show staircase in the guise of his daughter Scarlett with him. Right in the middle also a very old friend, blond with straight and luxuriant mane, “Mr. Kajagoogoo” Nick Beggs, who plucks his bass wearing a skirt. Sometime in between, the old girl Kim Wilde tries to find out what’s underneath the cool Beggs skirt. In vain. It’s the only mistake on this famous night.