From: "Doug Bright" <75366.2463@compuserve.com> To: Subject: Article: November, 1981 Date: Saturday, February 12, 2005 10:00 PM "Land of a Thousand ~Dances" Revisited: Eddie and the Atlantics, Annie Rose and the Thrillers By Doug Bright The early Sixties were a time of transition for black popular music in America. This was the time when the music became, as it were, conscious of itself--the time when rhythm and blues became soul, with all the social attitudes that the term implied. It meant being black and proud. It meant a whole race of people "standing up for their rights", and culturally it meant a growing awareness of being separate but equal. Most of those who, like me, passionately loved the simplicity and unabashed sentimentality of the 'fifties, (Flamingos, Platters, Penguins, Five Keys, etc), will agree with me that something vitally important died with the advent of the self-conscious Sixties. They will also agree that the final burial took place when the black sound that became disco achieved prominence. But it didn't happen overnight, nor were the first elements of change all that bad, If I had to place an absolute line of demarcation somewhere, I think I would pick the year 1962. A year earlier the Twist had jumped its cultural fence and wiggled its way into New York City's plush Peppermint Lounge. There must have been some who regarded this as a victory for rock, but I think most of the younger generation viewed it with a sneer of amused contempt. I think they were saying, In effect, "For years you grown-ups have been putting down our music: calling it stupid, immoral, indecent, and everything else you could think of, and now you're Twisting! You really think you're cool, don't you? Well, dig this!" And with that a virtual tidal wave of new dance crazes sprang up. There were too many of them to learn after the fact and keep them all straight, let alone keep up with the trends. It was a time of wild girations and the last gasp of an era. It was a generation running on borrowed time with its energy more a function of conformity than true inner vitality. Inevitably the dance had to end as new voices began to call away the white youth, most of whom became surfers, folkies, or Beatlemaniacs. Rhythm and blues was no longer a directing force in American popular music. It had been, for all practical purposes, drowned in the California surf and trampled by the host of English invaders. If it was going to survive, it would have to go its own way, and that's just what it did. These were the years of transi- tion from rock-'n'-roll to soul, and it is this curious period of black musical history that serves as the focus for two new preservationist groups; Eddie and the Atlantics, and Annie Rose and the Thrillers, To a 'fifties rock addict like me a group name like Eddie and the Atlantics is well nigh irresistible. "Who are they?" I wondered. "What do they do?" If curiosity kills the cat, satisfaction brings it back. Consequently, the evening of Tuesday, September 15, found me at the Rainbow seeking just such satisfaction. When I arrived the first set was rockingly underway, and from the street I could hear loud and clear a quite solid rendition of the blues standard "Sweet Home Chicago". "Not bad for a start," I thought, deciding that this certainly deserved a closer look, (or listen, if you prefer), I learned that Eddie and the Atlantics were a Bellingham~-based group with a performing history of only a few months. The set continued with a version of "Knock On Wood" that was compelling enough to outdo the original. It was also typical of the quality and orientation of the band: the energetic soul music of the early to mid- 'sixties performed very tightly and convincingly. There were none of the tasteless acid-head instrumental breaks that destroy the credibility of most other white bands trying to do material of other periods. Equally absent was the phony, overdone showmanship that all too often besets black groups of former times trying to make a come-back. There was nothing excessive or out of context about Eddie and the Atlantics: just good, hard- driving rhythm and blues, Though the group's main orientation is the mid-sixties, they occa- sionally retreat into the previous decade, and the music is just as be- lievable. Their rendition of "Devil with the Blue Dress On" reminded me of the Coasters. The second set opened with a fine mid-'fifties jump tune reminiscent of Joe Liggins' "The Honey Dripper". Somewhat later in the set, saxophonist Ray Downy was joined by Doug Reed's tenor sax for an irresistible double-reed boogie that had 1955 written all over it. Paul Klein's piano work, performed on a Helpenstill electric suitcase model, was virtually indistinguishable from the acoustic piano sound of the 'fifties. These departures into the 'fifties notwithstanding, the group pro- ceeded through the evening with their main business. The second set closed with a medley of almost every conceivable dance-craze exploitation song of the period: from "The Crawl" to "The Funky Chicken" to Jr. Walker's "Do The Jerk". The medley was finally topped off with the inevitable "Land of a Thousand Dances, and the whole thing was done with refreshing tightness and enthusiasm, Sam and Dave's "Hold On, I'm Comin'", sung toward the end of the next set, was just plain great! The only complaint one could reasonably make about this otherwise excellent band is their occasional lack of judgment in the use of their vocal capability. The Temptations' classic "My Girl", sung by pianist Paul Klein, would have done better with the somewhat mellower voice of guitarist Jim Frick. On the other hand, James Brown's "I'll Go Crazy" exemplified the same vocal mismatch problem going the other way. Frick's voice tended to get covered up by the accompaniment, a difficulty that could have been avoided by using Klein's stronger and rougher voice for the lead, This, however, is a relatively minor problem, and one that I think time and experience will correct very soon. Klein's voice is at its exuberant best on tunes like "I Feel Good", which turned out inffinitely better than James Brown's original. The band's perfect blend of guitar, organ and sax convinced me that if I were James Brown trying to come back with my best oldies, there would be no doubt about whom I would choose for my back-up group. Every instrument is consistently right where it belongs, and so are the vocal harmonies. To sum it up, these fine musicians need only a little more variety, a little more of the slow and sentimental side of soul, (Temptations, Tymes, Miracles, etc,), to be the best representatives yet of a lost musical era, Annie Rose and the Thrillers If anyone during the Fifties might have thought rhythm and blues was a man's world, the early Sixties should have been enough to make him check his premises. It was this era that spawned a host, (or hostess), of excellent female vocal groups: Marvelettes, Crystals, 2onettes, Chiffons, and probably many more. If it took the feminist movement to bring back this fine but largely forgotten element of rock history, you won't hear any complaints from me. The greatness of Annie Rose and the Thrillers can be summed up in a simple formula: Take a few good if not outstanding voices and some Marvelettes records, a solid back-up group, stir carefully, and magic happens! This Is one of those cases in which the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. The wonderfully authentic and vibrant vocal blend on the Jellybeans' "Don't Say Nothin' Bad About My Baby" proves my point eloquently. "Beachwood 45789" was great; "Stop In the Name of Love" featured Supremes-style counter-rhythms and a fine Motown string section simulated on the organ. "Mister Big Stuff", a slightly more contemporary number, was better than the original. This is Sixties soul right down to a science. As with eddie and the Atlantics, the accompaniment is a tight blend of horns, guitar and keyboard all right where they belong. On the more modern tunes the lead guitarist would occasionally slip into some avant- garde but always had the good sense to leave it out of the traditional stuff. The evening also offered a preview of the back-up band, the Invincibles, who also perform separately. Highlighting their portion of the show were the exciting and convincingly black vocals of a lady named Patty who is also a fine saxophonist. In fact she's probably about the only element of this band that would spark much interest among hard-core tra- ditionalists. With the Thrillers, though, the group is just what the doctor ordered. In its totality, this is an act which no oldies fan can afford to miss. ----------------------------------------