***Concert Review: Boy George & Culture Club, Seminole Hard Rock Hotel & Casino Tampa Event Center, Tampa FL***
Write-up: Bailey Guinigundo
Photo credit: Yvonne Gougelet, Seminole Hard Rock Tampa
(Seminole Hard Rock, Tampa FL) The glitter never really fades — it just evolves.
On a breezy Tampa night, the Seminole Hard Rock Event Center pulsed with anticipation as Boy George and Culture Club launched the North American leg of their 2026 tour. If opening night jitters existed, they were nowhere to be found. What unfolded over 90 vibrant minutes was less a concert and more a testament to longevity, reinvention, and radical self-acceptance.
Backed by original members Roy Hay and Mikey Craig, and an eight-piece ensemble that brought the onstage count to ten (two backup vocalists, dual percussionists, guitars, bass, saxophone, keys — and, of course, George), the band delivered a set that traced four decades of musical evolution. The throughline? Identity, resilience, and the power of love over fear.
George opened playfully with “You’re So Loud,” greeting the crowd:
“Tampa how are you doing. Thank you for coming out to see us. We used to worship at Church of Poisoned Mind, but now we worship at the Church of Love. Unfortunately I haven’t written that song yet so you’ll have to deal with this one…”
That sly self-reference flowed seamlessly into “Church of the Poisoned Mind / I'm Your Man,” a joyous, hand-clapping moment that immediately unified the room. Later, reflecting on their early U.S. breakthrough, George reminisced:
“This is our 1st show this North American tour… our favorite time in America was back when we were just starting out. We had a show in California and we pulled up in limo doing a show and Telly Savales was there… Originally called ‘It’s America’… traveling the world and people knew who we were. So we changed the name of the song to ‘It’s a Miracle.’”
The band launched into “It’s a Miracle,” with the saxophonist seizing a triumphant solo — a reminder that Culture Club’s sound has always been richer and more layered than pure ‘80s pop nostalgia.
Patterns emerged as the night unfolded. The setlist leaned heavily into songs born of transition — the early 1980s global explosion, George’s personal battles and recovery years, and his later-career reflections on faith, identity, and impermanence. Reggae rhythms pulsed through “Eye and Eye” and “London Is Not Burning,” nodding to the band’s longstanding Caribbean influences. As George quipped, “I’ve been busy, writing music. Living my life.” The reggae groove felt quietly defiant — political in its existence, rooted in the multicultural London that shaped him long before social media amplified every opinion.
Before performing “Time (Clock of the Heart),” he offered a mantra that seemed to define the evening:
“If you bring love you get love. It doesn’t matter where you are or what you are. An identity is art. And time is precious…”
Time, indeed, has been kind to George — or perhaps he has simply learned to master it.
In one of the night’s most candid moments, he asked, “Anyone here in recovery?” before recalling his youth — “childhood, bad haircut, but I’m still the king of everything” — and launching into “King of Everything.” The vulnerability was real, but so was the swagger. It’s a balance he now wears effortlessly.
A newer slow-burner, “Letting Things Go,” introduced with:
“Now this song went #1 in the world 3 weeks ago. Doesn’t really matter. So much to fear… so much to let go of.”
The comment — dismissing charts in favor of emotional release — revealed a recurring theme: detachment from external validation. Fame once defined Culture Club’s meteoric rise; now reflection defines its maturity.
Not every risk landed equally. A reimagined “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me” challenged expectations. George teased the idea of altering classics — “Some people think it’s a crime to take a classic thing and mess around… You don’t expect me to behave after all this time. After all this time you want me to fall in line?” — but some fans audibly longed for the original arrangement. Even so, the reinterpretation underscored his refusal to become a museum piece of his own past.
The set’s emotional arc shifted back to joy with “Faster,” introduced with wry humor about reality TV and “painting my nails,” and dedicated to anyone stuck in a difficult relationship. The duet format gave the backup vocalists room to shine. Soon after, George declared dancing “not illegal,” launching into “Miss Me Blind,” which transformed the venue into a glittering dance floor.
One of the evening’s most poignant tributes came as George recalled seeing David Bowie at a now-demolished theater in his youth — a formative moment that shaped his understanding of art and androgyny. His cover of “Let’s Dance” honored Bowie not through imitation but through reverence, bridging glam rock lineage with Culture Club’s own theatrical DNA.
Introducing the band as “an observer of human behavior — particularly of my own,” George performed the ballad “She’s Lying,” dedicating it to a friend from Ukraine now living in London. The moment felt hushed and intimate — a reminder that beyond spectacle lies empathy.
After a brief encore break, the band returned with swagger, covering The Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil,” giving nearly every musician a solo moment — saxophone, percussion, guitar, keys, bass — an exclamation point on the collective power of the ensemble.
They closed out with “Children of the Revolution,” famously revived in Moulin Rouge!, a fitting finale for a band that once was the revolution — and somehow still is, with the grand finale of Karma Chameleon.
Across decades, the common thread in Culture Club’s catalog remains clear: love over fear, individuality over conformity, rhythm over rigidity. From early MTV-era hits to reflective new material, the songs trace George’s journey from flamboyant outsider to seasoned truth-teller. The 2026 tour’s opening night didn’t simply celebrate nostalgia — it reframed it.
In Tampa, the Church of Love was officially open.
Write-up: Bailey Guinigundo
Photo credit: Yvonne Gougelet, Seminole Hard Rock Tampa
(Seminole Hard Rock, Tampa FL) The glitter never really fades — it just evolves.
On a breezy Tampa night, the Seminole Hard Rock Event Center pulsed with anticipation as Boy George and Culture Club launched the North American leg of their 2026 tour. If opening night jitters existed, they were nowhere to be found. What unfolded over 90 vibrant minutes was less a concert and more a testament to longevity, reinvention, and radical self-acceptance.
Backed by original members Roy Hay and Mikey Craig, and an eight-piece ensemble that brought the onstage count to ten (two backup vocalists, dual percussionists, guitars, bass, saxophone, keys — and, of course, George), the band delivered a set that traced four decades of musical evolution. The throughline? Identity, resilience, and the power of love over fear.
George opened playfully with “You’re So Loud,” greeting the crowd:
“Tampa how are you doing. Thank you for coming out to see us. We used to worship at Church of Poisoned Mind, but now we worship at the Church of Love. Unfortunately I haven’t written that song yet so you’ll have to deal with this one…”
That sly self-reference flowed seamlessly into “Church of the Poisoned Mind / I'm Your Man,” a joyous, hand-clapping moment that immediately unified the room. Later, reflecting on their early U.S. breakthrough, George reminisced:
“This is our 1st show this North American tour… our favorite time in America was back when we were just starting out. We had a show in California and we pulled up in limo doing a show and Telly Savales was there… Originally called ‘It’s America’… traveling the world and people knew who we were. So we changed the name of the song to ‘It’s a Miracle.’”
The band launched into “It’s a Miracle,” with the saxophonist seizing a triumphant solo — a reminder that Culture Club’s sound has always been richer and more layered than pure ‘80s pop nostalgia.
Patterns emerged as the night unfolded. The setlist leaned heavily into songs born of transition — the early 1980s global explosion, George’s personal battles and recovery years, and his later-career reflections on faith, identity, and impermanence. Reggae rhythms pulsed through “Eye and Eye” and “London Is Not Burning,” nodding to the band’s longstanding Caribbean influences. As George quipped, “I’ve been busy, writing music. Living my life.” The reggae groove felt quietly defiant — political in its existence, rooted in the multicultural London that shaped him long before social media amplified every opinion.
Before performing “Time (Clock of the Heart),” he offered a mantra that seemed to define the evening:
“If you bring love you get love. It doesn’t matter where you are or what you are. An identity is art. And time is precious…”
Time, indeed, has been kind to George — or perhaps he has simply learned to master it.
In one of the night’s most candid moments, he asked, “Anyone here in recovery?” before recalling his youth — “childhood, bad haircut, but I’m still the king of everything” — and launching into “King of Everything.” The vulnerability was real, but so was the swagger. It’s a balance he now wears effortlessly.
A newer slow-burner, “Letting Things Go,” introduced with:
“Now this song went #1 in the world 3 weeks ago. Doesn’t really matter. So much to fear… so much to let go of.”
The comment — dismissing charts in favor of emotional release — revealed a recurring theme: detachment from external validation. Fame once defined Culture Club’s meteoric rise; now reflection defines its maturity.
Not every risk landed equally. A reimagined “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me” challenged expectations. George teased the idea of altering classics — “Some people think it’s a crime to take a classic thing and mess around… You don’t expect me to behave after all this time. After all this time you want me to fall in line?” — but some fans audibly longed for the original arrangement. Even so, the reinterpretation underscored his refusal to become a museum piece of his own past.
The set’s emotional arc shifted back to joy with “Faster,” introduced with wry humor about reality TV and “painting my nails,” and dedicated to anyone stuck in a difficult relationship. The duet format gave the backup vocalists room to shine. Soon after, George declared dancing “not illegal,” launching into “Miss Me Blind,” which transformed the venue into a glittering dance floor.
One of the evening’s most poignant tributes came as George recalled seeing David Bowie at a now-demolished theater in his youth — a formative moment that shaped his understanding of art and androgyny. His cover of “Let’s Dance” honored Bowie not through imitation but through reverence, bridging glam rock lineage with Culture Club’s own theatrical DNA.
Introducing the band as “an observer of human behavior — particularly of my own,” George performed the ballad “She’s Lying,” dedicating it to a friend from Ukraine now living in London. The moment felt hushed and intimate — a reminder that beyond spectacle lies empathy.
After a brief encore break, the band returned with swagger, covering The Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil,” giving nearly every musician a solo moment — saxophone, percussion, guitar, keys, bass — an exclamation point on the collective power of the ensemble.
They closed out with “Children of the Revolution,” famously revived in Moulin Rouge!, a fitting finale for a band that once was the revolution — and somehow still is, with the grand finale of Karma Chameleon.
Across decades, the common thread in Culture Club’s catalog remains clear: love over fear, individuality over conformity, rhythm over rigidity. From early MTV-era hits to reflective new material, the songs trace George’s journey from flamboyant outsider to seasoned truth-teller. The 2026 tour’s opening night didn’t simply celebrate nostalgia — it reframed it.
In Tampa, the Church of Love was officially open.
RSS Feed