THE face is familiar, but the melody well, it just isn't right. Up on the stage of Los Angeles' the Now (formerly Cocoanut Grove), a nightclub thick with the ghosts of potted palms and a thousand big-name bands, Diana Ross makes her electric entrance, shimmering like a Broadway sign. She sports a frizzy Afro wig about the size of a boxwood hedge and a sequined sarong that looks as if it were cut from the Orion constellation. That's not the only star trip this lady is on. She seizes the microphone and leans into...
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