Scowling Janet borrows a bad idea from Michael

At first glance, the August 29 show of Janet Jackson's "Velvet Rope" tour was a big-fun affair all the way - giant props, costume changes, dancers to spare. But that, dear reader, was before the scowling.

At the end of her second number, the insistent "If," her six-piece band and pair of backing vocalists stopped dead, the lights went out and Miz Jackson glared at the crowd, shoulders hunched, jaw set. She turned her head slowly from one side of the MGM Grand Garden to the other, staring down the capacity crowd with a bitter expression, the kind of look you give somebody you want dead - or, at the least, on the next plane out of town with a paper bag over their noggin.

Sure, it was all part of the theatrics - "If" is an ode to sexual frustration from her self-titled previous album, which was ripe with them. But it was hard to shake that dour first impression of Janet, and all the backflips, pyrotechnics and funny hats in the world couldn't bring the audience any closer to Janet Jackson after that staring contest. It would seem that Janet has fallen prey to the corruptive line of thinking that claimed brother Michael all those years ago: that bigger is indeed better, that aloofness is endearing and that therapy is a gift best shared with millions.

Having said all that, I feel compelled to add that I've always loved Janet Jackson's music and I still do; it is genuine, flirty when supposed to be flirty, somber when needed, fun, tuneful and sexy always. It is an unadulterated pleasure to see her forge ahead, energetic and vital even as her brother washes out commercially and artistically. Where Michael had a bright, short burn, Janet continues on with album after successful album, goosing her way toward the ubiquity her brother took with brute force. That is why Janet's current show is so unsettling - it is Michael through and through, right down to the scowl.

Songs from the "Velvet Rope" album were given unnecessarily long leash. The much-ballyhooed strip tease she performed to "Rope Burn," the extraordinarily ill-advised spousal abuse scenario that accompanied "What About" and the discotheque hijinks of "Throb" would have been palatable if not for their length and heavy-handedness ("What About," particularly, could have been toned down).

And squeezing no less than nine of her biggest hits into medley form ("What Have You Done For Me Lately," "Nasty," "When I Think Of You," "Miss You Much" and "Runaway" among them) was almost inexcusable. So Janet has too many hits - c'mon, there are worse problems. Some of those songs could have been played in their entirety, even if at the expense of others. Somehow, I don't think too great an outcry would have been raised if the Janet's set lost two costume changes, the related instrumental breaks and "Black Cat" in favor of a few more songs.

The backing band didn't seem to matter much, as vast sections of the music were obviously sampled from Terry Lewis and Jimmy Jam's flawless production work. When they did step up to the fore - as they did on the aforementioned "Black Cat" - they sounded exactly like what they were: a group of session players paid to regurgitate Jackson's songs note-perfect with a negligible amount of improvisation. Guess Janet wasn't kidding about that total control thing.

And so it went, save one interesting tidbit: a persistent rumor that Michael was backstage that night, celebrating his 40th birthday with family and friends. If so, one can only imagine the scene: the performance ends and brother and sister greet each other - with matching scowls. Janet, come back to us.

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