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Some Strip residencies have an unintentional air of detachment. The format itself—same venue, night after night—can morph even the most personal songs into over-perfected products. But during her sold-out Las Vegas residency at the Colosseum at Caesars Palace, Alanis Morissette closed the gap with her fans.
“Even though I've been on stage most of my life, I've also been hiding a little bit. I've been hiding behind my guitars and my bandmates, the sounds, the lights, the sweats,” Morissette told the audience. “… So why be on stage to begin with? I push through because it's imperative to express myself and then share it. It feels really vocational for me. And I write these songs for me to begin with, and then I give them to you. But tonight, I'm jumping right outside of my emotional wheelhouse, and I'm going to make an effort to really connect with you.”
For nearly three hours, the Grammy-winning alternative rock icon embraced a level of vulnerability rarely seen at this stage of stardom. Through various modes of creative expression—interpretive dance, dry-witted humor, honest anecdotes and onstage theatrics—Morissette narrated the story of her life in sharp, unforgiving detail.
“I'm 51 at this point and I'm done staying in my lane,” Morissette said. “It’s reductive. It's like cutting pieces of yourself off to be palatable to other people.”
The charm of such candor and defiance is that that’s always been Morissette’s modus operandi. Her career-defining album, 1995’s Jagged Little Pill, is a delicate and diaristic masterpiece, leading with Morissette’s visceral desire to be heard and understood—and that’s evident in how she performs, too.
She’s an absolute live wire onstage: One minute she’s sinking to her knees, wheezing the final notes of “Hand in My Pocket” out on her harmonica; the next she’s belting out the chorus of “All I Really Want” and “Right Through You” with perfect breath control and piercing clarity. Morissette’s gorgeous, unbridled vocals have aged for the better on these songs. The range she exhibits, the notes she holds, it’s clear why she’s a generational talent.
Between songs, Morissette offered additional layers to her experience—the journey of getting sober, her struggles with postpartum depression, feeling like an outcast among women she looked up to, being an empath in a narcissistic industry. All the cards were on the table here. Morissette never shied away from any single moment, but her performance of “Hands Clean” delivered a real sobering effect. Morissette originally wrote the track about her statutory rape, but it was grossly misinterpreted by label executives. While performing it, news headlines flashed on screen speculating that Morissette had lied about the encounter. But in one powerful image, the words: “Dear Alanis Morissette, Sorry We Normalized Your Rape” appeared, chilling the room into silence.
That willingness to go dark places made the joyous moments feel earned. After a short intermission, audiences got a glimpse into Morissette’s playful side as camera crews filmed her gambling out on the casino floor, disguised in sweatpants and a hoodie. Realizing intermission was over, the singer rushed back inside the Colosseum, tossing poker chips into the crowd. Those slices of the unexpected only seemed to magnify her likability. We could not stop rooting for her, and who would want to?
Toward the finale, the singer incited a thunderous singalong to “Ironic,” complete with her dancers crowning her in a showgirl headdress and doing the Can-can. And that heady excitement continued with “Head Over Feet,” a tender favorite that left the crowd positively beaming. Emotions now tightly wrapped around her finger, Morissette swerved into “You Oughta Know.” The rage came in cathartic waves, and the audience matched it, headbanging along to that stinging chorus as Morissette’s five-piece band shredded through its chords.
After all these years, Morissette’s decades-long legacy still holds up. The songs still resonate. The lyrics still linger. But with this residency, she’s proven she’s evolved. She’s left her lane and there’s no turning back.
Alanis Morissette
Thru November 2, 8 p.m., $143+, The Colosseum, ticketmaster.com
English (US) ·