Celine Dion

Celine Dion is the high-maintenance, mercurial girlfriend we never asked for. Just look at how she treated the Target Center in November. After the venue spent untold trillions revamping its acoustic rig, Dion buttered us up with talk of an "audio, visual feast" and other sweet nothings, only to scratch the show at the zero hour. She complained of a throat tickle and breezed right over us en route to a date with the Windy City, leaving us dressed up and dejected. Her vocal range, which spans several dozen octaves in pitch-perfection, is beyond reproach, and her voluminous career is a lullaby, capable of sending even the most intractable insomniac into blissful slumber. But don't clutch that ticket too tightly—when you see Celine Dion, it's on her terms. Get your hopes up, and you're only preparing yourself for a night of coffee and cold showers. All ages.
Thu., Dec. 18, 8 p.m., 2008

 
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