The fans who packed Roy Thomson Hall last night for a rousing ndash; if somewhat short, at 90 minutes ndash; performance by veteran R B star Aretha Franklin should have kept their eyes on the purse.
It seemed to know all the moves.
The big, shiny piece of equipment made its entrance mere seconds before the diva appeared in front of a top-notch, 22-piece band ndash; 23 if you count the purse carrier ndash; and sat centre stage beneath the piano, glimmering in its own spotlight throughout a set that started out cool and perfunctory and ended in something like white, transcendent heat.

The purse never budged till Franklin left the stage for the last time, despite her unexplained exit after the first half-dozen songs, sudden reappearance 15 minutes later, and a couple of well-deserved curtain calls, complete with bouquets presented by admirers, and acknowledged by the 65-year-old singer with regal aplomb.
The purse was never mentioned, never touched by anyone but its handler, never even glanced at by its owner, who was dressed head to foot in a beige silk gown and seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, even tripping the light fantastic at one point.
That should have given the purse pause, since it was briefly in the path of Franklin's very pointy, glittering high-heeled slippers.

But the stoic accessory, containing who knows what, stood its ground, like a soldier on guard, till the show was done.
And what a show it was. Starting with a gut-busting triple whammy ndash; Respect, You Make Me Feel Like A Natural Woman and Chain Of Fools ndash; Franklin opened on high ground, shooting off her biggest cannons and begging the question: Where to go from here?

Sure, she could have put more fire in that initial volley. All six songs in the first half of the show lacked passion, as if they'd been done one time too many, or perhaps because they're no longer necessary crowd killers, just well-used calling cards. If you're of a certain age, Sock-it-to-me-sock-it-to-me-sock-it-to-me-sock-it-to-me-sock-it-to-me-sock-it-to-me .

.. doesn't have the weight it once did.

Indeed, it's hard to listen to that particular lyric without cringing in one's well-cushioned seat.
In the second half, after the orchestra had had its way with a swinging jazz riff, building it into a dazzling monument to big-band soul, and after Franklin had dispensed with a rather mundane ndash; and way too breezy ndash; version of Beyond the Sea, the show shifted gears.
Showcasing three new songs from her soon-to-be-released album Aretha: A Woman Falling Out of Love, the venerable star seemed to come alive, invigorated by new lyrics, melodies, passions.

She took long-time pianist Richard Gibbs's seat at the piano and pounded out a gospel rock progression that set the pace for a resounding chaser, and a soaring, heartfelt version of Believe, a paean to self-empowerment, and clearly one of the diva's favourites.