Queen in search of a kingdom

It's hard enough to master any one career, but Queen Latifah has already found success in at least three. She began as a teenage rapper in the late '80s, moved into television and movies in the '90s and, most recently, remade herself into a jazz singer. Yet despite these transformations, her relationship to hip-hop -- and hip-hop's to her -- is constant and complex. Hip-hop is the part of Latifah's past that lingers with her, while the music's future awaits her return.

That dynamic ran subtly beneath Latifah's show Wednesday at UCLA's Royce Hall, where she performed songs from her new songbook album, "Trav'lin' Light." For 90 minutes, Latifah moved through showy big-band numbers, bossa nova ballads, funky soul tunes and one surprise from her rap past. The crowd, though filling Royce only half full, was loud and enthusiastic, showering Latifah with shouts of affection that made the cavernous hall feel more personable and intimate. Latifah, dressed smartly in snug black pants and blouse, cooed, "I love you right back."

Latifah has always been inimitably likable, even in 1989 when she came to fame off of "Ladies First," her feminist hip-hop anthem. Back then, Latifah stood out as a female MC who was neither tomboy, gangstress nor sexpot. She exuded a radiant confidence and comfort with both her conscious politics and plus-size frame.

She spent the first nine years of her career moving in hip-hop circles and the last nine years moving away, but age has only burnished her charms. Now 37, she's more than just an entertainer, she's a powerful brand, appealing to the Oprah demographic. Cover Girl and Jenny Craig posters with Latifah's name or image conspicuously dotted the venue hallways.

Latifah began this makeover as early as 1993, when she joined the cast of the sitcom "Living Single." Her watershed year was 1998, when Latifah recorded her last rap album, "Order in the Court," and her first series of jazz standards, for the "Living Out Loud" soundtrack. On Wednesday she included one of the songs from that film, a surprisingly affecting cover of Billy Strayhorn's "Lush Life."

When Latifah first turned from rap tunes to torch songs, fans greeted the shift with pleasant surprise, but in hindsight, it seems entirely natural. Not only did singing allow Latifah to bank on her image as an artist of refinement, but it also seemed less risky than treading the youth-driven rap waters as a middle-aged woman. Despite a six-year recording hiatus, when Latifah dropped "The Dana Owens Album" in 1994, the album went gold.