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When it comes to the enigma that is George Michael, no sane person (out of those who desire to see him) should opt to go to their local arena after a 9-5 day at work. Vegas! Vegas is the only place to see George Michael. After all, 17 years have passed with a few drug cocktail mishaps and a mildly amusing public toilet debacle to boot. So then, completely confident in my decision to make a party out of this milestone, I happily emptied my bankroll into my gas tank to make that delightful 4 hour jaunt to Sin City. After getting his visa particulars in order, he finally agreed to grace our presence with an extensive tour of the states in support of Twenty-Five, an opus of his latest and greatest. A few outlet malls later we were in our seats at the MGM Grand Garden Arena. Slackjawed by the mix of Vegas locals, I spot a fair share of sober and highly focused superfans with their “Choose Life” t’s and buckets of nachos. Everyone else opted for alcohol.  George Michael, 45 years young with almost 2 decades of hit tunes to his name, couldn’t help but thoroughly impress the likes of myself with the strength and effortlessness of his voice, and the endless stamina that helped whisk him through 3 straight hours of song after song with only a short intermission. That unmistakable organ intro opened the second half as everyone collectively lost their shit. Faith, was followed by just about every song written lovingly on my little check-off list. Father Figure, with all the interwoven backing vocals we love; One More Try, a more up-tempo adaptation (although I would have preferred to hear the brooding, crooning album version from years past, as it displays his range as a singer) Everything She Wants, the extended mix that only true fans know or care to remember; Too Funky, Amazing, so on and so forth. You name it, he belted it...as did I. Each accented with clips from all those infamous supermodel laden music videos that are so fondly stored in our subconscious. Live classic 80’s hits combined with classic videos equals crazy speed induced-like giddiness. Nice touch! Then throw in a jazzy cover version of Roxanne with naked ladies silhouetted on the massive jumbo-tron behind him, and you’ve got yourself the best set-list ever! He closed the show with Freedom 90, Careless Whisper (thrown in ‘cause he loves us), and Praying for Time. Noticably overcome with the adoring audience feedback all night, it had all culminated in his heart by the encore. The man did indeed breakdown and cry on his stool. Oh yes, it was one for the ages.
--Cat Veit
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