The Monster that is Lady Gaga

Recently I saw her at her sold out, stadium-sized Monster Ball tour. It’s a full on visual feast and auditory assault, but that’s due to the horrible acoustics of Rogers Arena and the over-compensation with loudness.

The lady has talent, without a doubt. I wished I was at her show last December, which had taken place at a more intimate, cozier Queen Elizabeth theater, and before she skyrocketed into super-stardom, very well en route to becoming the No. 1 pop star in the world.

She was No. 1 to a lot of fans that night. It was a full 2 hours of Lady Gaga hits, strung together by pieces of theater and stream-of-consciousness monologues. She can talk. She is sexy, charming, charismatic. She is also broken. She tells a stadium full of fans about her alcoholic father, speaks of hating the truth, her days as an outcast and relishing a life of B.S., all the while doing this in her underwear playing a piano on fire. And making everyone believe it.

Lady Gaga refers to her fans as little monsters. They are young, and she is a definitely a monster on stage. If they turned out to be even half the monster she is, we have a very colorful and interesting future ahead of us. At the end of the day, I think, we are better off with Lady Gaga than without.

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