Alright, ignore the genre, the subject matter, and the fellow clientele, and you've got my ideal night out.
But the old man done good, albeit with a rather motley crew on stage with him.
The personification of that fictional character Smoove B. Love, Keith Sweat oozes class and soul with equal measure, and proved last night that he can still captivate an audience, and can do so without the "help" of whatever clown he had as a lame MC / aerobics dancer.
His band were competent rather than exciting, while his backing singers - particularly the female singer - were sharp.
Seeing as the main aim was to delight the wife, the evening was a real success. Just don't expect me to start singing.
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