MILF, you rock!

Amazon. O woman with long muscular legs. O mother with not a hint of birth about ye. O lover of ska and all things fashion.

It is the Gwen.

Tuesday night, we drove to Kampung Komanwel and found ourselves some parking. Being seasoned concert goers from our Perth years, Panini and I decided that parking at the car park entrance would be far better than parking near the stadium entrance. Clever us! After the show we walked to our car and left just like that! While others stared at each other through their windshields in the deadlock that happened after the show.

Anyways, Ms Stefani (yes, now is the time to condescend to those who are't cognizant of Italian nomenclature and that it's pronounced "Steff-AHN-ee" and not "Stephanie"), after having presented herself in numerous press articles demurely clad with baby Kingston on her knee and hubby Gavin Rossdale by her side and promising to be decent onstage to god-knows-which anonymous stupid person who called for the banning of her concert, walked onstage and blew KL to bits with her down-to-the-basics-but-no-I'm-still-giving-it-my-all best!

We were up on our feet immediately. Seated but five rows away, we could almost hear her singing straight from the stage, which was a good thing, because from where we were, we could hardly hear her at all... (we were too close and between the columns of speakers hanging either side of the stage to get the full benefit of the apparently great sound - if you were seated halfway own the stadium). Still, I could see her armpits from where I was. And her eye make up, which, you know, she does herself.

The most fantastic thing about the Gwen is that you can feel her raw energy and her absolute passion for performing. Her chit chat was sincere and she made a point of acknowledging the audience in different parts of the stadium, even running to the back and performing on the ledge in front of the first level of seats. Those lucky buggers got to shake hands and take her photo up close.

Though Panini did spot a person who spent the whole evening watching the concert through their camera. Jeez, buy the dvd for god's sake, don't waste a RM200 ticket watching a tiny screen!! Don't people know what the point of going to a concert is anymore??

Ms Stefani and her Harajuku Girls, Love, Angel, Music and Baby, were lovely to watch perform, and I loved the choreography. And like, I tolly dig the music! Ska, reggae, punk, new wave... sometimes it sounded like late New Order songs, sometimes like rasta chill hop. It was extra special for me because Baby One was enjoying her first concert experience with our favourite female performer. Mama and Jobby were dancing like maniacs and screaming the lyrics while Baby One kind of shuffled along to the music in shyness. But at the end, she was singing the lyrics to songs we didn't know, and punching the air with abandon too.

All night we had been waiting for What You Waiting For? Because the remix had been used by Jobby for the curtain call of Enemy, it had extra special meaning for me! When she finally started with "What an amazing time, what a family, when did the years go by? Now it's only me..... TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK!" We were jumping!! But I kept knocking the chair in front of me with my knees as I jumped. Concerts in Malaysia - no room to dance.

Before the concert I had been huffing about the idiots who caused alarm when they demanded her concert be cancelled. And I felt embarrassed that she spent so much time trying to calm those dumbos with promises to cover up more (she wore singlets under her corsets, an extra layer of tights, and I think skipped some of the more revealing costumes). It didn't matter a hoot, because she was so much larger than life. She was running across the stage, dancing, jumping, sweating, moshing on her lonesome... and you couldn't hear it in her voice at all. No breathlessness, no erratic notes as she ran while singing.

Though the lead up to the concert was an irritating display of righteousness and smallmindedness, the Malaysian people stepped up to the plate and gave her the audience she surely deserved. We were all screaming, dancing, ABANDONING ourselves to the spirit of her music without crossing over into evil or drinking blood. I was very proud of us that night, and we were very proud when she shared an anecdote proclaiming her own personal ties to Malaysia.

She wished us Happy Independence and several times squealed "Treema Kaseeeeee!" which everyone loved.

What really made me proud was when she put her fingers to her lips when she sang "It's my shh! It's my shh!" and everyone in the crown drowned her out singing "It's my SHIT! It's my SHIT!!!"

Well done, crew!!

We love you GWEEEEEENNNNNNN!!!

Lovey, C