Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: MONDAY, March 26, 1990                   TAG: 9003261996
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: E6   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: TRACEY WIMMER STAFF WRITER
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

MARX SHOWS HE LOVES TO PERFORM

Jenny, my best friend since childhood, came home over the weekend and volunteered to go the Richard Marx concert with me Saturday night.

I told her I didn't need to test our friendship anymore, but she pointed out that we hadn't seen a rock show together in 10 years. (That Eagles concert was also our first.)

"And if nothing else, we can goof on Marx," she said.

Good point.

Marx has probably come to expect that from older audiences. He is the Madonna of pop rock. A lot people say they don't like his music, yet they know all the words.

In an earlier interview he talked of abhoring critics, most of whom couldn't play music, write it or even sing it. But given a couple of warm-ups, I can still pick out the chorus to "The Sting" on the piano so I'll continue.

Marx entertained an audience of about 3,400, 75 percent capacity of the Salem Civic Center's auditorium. Named after his latest album, the "Repeat Offender" show kicks off with an opening act not worth mentioning.

Then Marx bounded on stage amid a flurry of drums, guitars and a police dispatcher recording that referred to the suspect - our man, Marx.

His first number was a high energy version of "Too Late To Say Goodbye," a spoof on marriage, though this crowd looked too young to be married - teen girls and an occasional, often disgusted-looking boyfriend.

"The only rule is that there are no rules," Marx said. "We came here to sweat and to party with you."

Throughout the two-hour concert, he gave inspired versions of all his hits, including "Won't Give Up Until I'm Satisfied" and "Should Have Known Better." Marx also continually talked to the audience.

Without question, this performer loved playing live - an uncommon trait among musicians who've been touring for almost three years straight.

The stage production was low-key - a few ramps, some spotlights, a little dry ice.

But Marx was all drama. In fact, we think he thinks he's Elvis - his dance, his pants and the way he teased the screaming throngs of girls who reached for his hand.

But what does that have to do with his music? If grown men want to wear socks with their sandals, who are we to call them nerds? If Richard Marx wants to wear a matching red and black pop star outfit, who are we to criticize?

The bottom line is the man performs his genre of rock well.