Larger-than-life Lauryn Hill performing at House of Blues

Lauryn Hill is the new Axl Rose.

Actually, she's the new, old Axl Rose -- you know, the dude from way back who flipped his wig if you took his picture, consulted with psychics regarding business decisions and generally came off as nutty as a Payday bar in bicycle shorts.

Likewise, Hill is mercurial, larger than life and radiates defiance like a grounded 13-year-old radiates 'tude.

In short, she just doesn't care if you like or understand her.

We don't understand her.

But we like her.

Here's why:

She Says What She Wants

Hill's the type of lady who'd bite your tongue before hers.

Some people give voice to their opinions, others hurl them at you like the school bully targeting the emo kid in dodge ball.

Hill is as firmly ensconced in the latter camp as a boulder in a tar pit.

Here's a moment that encapsulates her unflinching, oh-no-she-didn't directness.

A devoutly spiritual person, Hill, like pretty much everyone else, was greatly taken aback at the sexual abuse allegations that have rocked the Catholic Church in recent years.

And like a gazelle walking into a lion's den to critique said beast's dietary habits, she went straight to the source to voice her concerns.

At a 2003 Christmas benefit concert at the Vatican, she took church leaders to task in public.

"I want to ask you, what have you got to say about the lives you have broken?" Hill asked from the stage, reading from a prepared statement.

Inappropriate?

Well, that question would have to be posed to someone other than Hill -- you know, someone who might give a rip.

She Refuses to Cater to Anyone

At Hill's shows, the start times are as malleable as Play-Doh. She treats performance schedules with about as much regard as a teen does curfew when her parents are out of town.

Basically, Hill hits the stage when she wants and occasionally takes great liberties in how she chooses to perform her songs.

She plays the hits, but they don't always sound like said hits, as Hill toys with the arrangements, speeding things up, slowing them down, contorting her voice the way an acrobat bends her limbs.

This is reflective of the type of personality that Hill is: She gets restless when placed within any strict parameters, even if it's the confines of her own songs.

And so those who want to hear Hill classics such as "Doo-Wop (That Thing)" or "Everything is Everything" exactly as they were recorded may be disappointed.

But then again, if you're looking for things done by the numbers, you probably wouldn't be much of a Hill admirer to begin with.

She's Emboldened By Confrontation

Upon occasion, even Hill partisans have grown tired of her unpredictability and voice their displeasure, which is an act about as fruitful as complaining about the weather to a tire iron.

To wit: At a gig in New York City in December 2010, The New York Times reported that some fans were so irritated by Hill's tardiness -- she made them wait upward of three hours -- that they started hurling cups and bottles at the stage and made hand-drawn signs advertising their annoyance.

When she finally did get around to performing, Hill was decidedly less than chastened.

"Don't do that. That's disrespectful," she told the crowd members with the signs according to the Times, before informing them that she was worth the wait.

That's some serious chutzpah, some might call it hubris, but, hey, you have to give it to Ms. Hill: She's a true believer -- in her music, in herself.

Not that there seems to be much that has ever separated the two.

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@ reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476.