A fashion show sung by the great Celine Dion is a celebration of all that is cheesy, wrong, and doomed with the world – but Mr. Oud cannot be bothered with geopolitical commentary; for all his supposed vanity and self-glorification, he knows he is at heart an insignificant creature in the grand scheme of things. If you find this hard to believe, perhaps your view of your own importance is slightly askew too. That’s not a criticism, just an opportunity to examine, set to a dramatic version of ‘I’m Alive’ at a time when some of us are easing into middle-age without a lot of inspiration.
Mr. Oud moves too swiftly to be stifled by such contemplation. Quicksilver and lightning, golden handcuffs tightening, and a dark sky finally brightening, Mr. Oud flies between dusk and dawn. Pin pricks of sequined sparkle form constellations across a firmament of night. Celine knows sequins. Mr. Oud knows how to sparkle. Both know the power of a song.
