Happy Together Tour: Which '60s Survivors Still Sound Great on Tour?
At the Happy Together tour, which passed through Talking Stick Resort over the weekend, it's only natural for a charged-up boomer audience to close its eyes and imagine itself back in the '60s. But you wonder how many fans closed their eyes, thought they were back home watching a PBS Fund Drive music special, and got disoriented when they opened them again. From the canned announcer between acts to the scripted banter about the good old days and where you were in the fall of 1967 when this song sold 16 million copies to the archival footage of the show's stars played in Ken Burns-style slow motion, I don't think there was ever a concert where I felt closer to being hit up for the price of a tote bag.
Oldies package show are supposed to be slick -- they're competing with your memories for your affection, after all, and damn it if there's a note in a guitar break out of place. The five-piece band on this tour is particularly spot-on, reminiscent of the way The Wondermints eerily ape The Beach Boys' recorded sound at Brian Wilson shows. They execute every note you expect to hear, including those the rotating cast of lead singers are supposed to sing but no longer can.
How close did each of these stars come to their younger '60s avatars? Here they are in the order of they performed and -- not coincidentally -- in order of diminishing vocal power.
Gary Lewis and the Playboys: Fair Enough
No one would claim the leader of Gary Lewis and the Playboys was ever a great singer -- even his producer Snuff Garrett has always said he was never less than triple-tracked on every recording. So when all five members of the backup band were singing behind the nasally voiced son of comedy legend Jerry Lewis, no one could really feel shortchanged.
In the old days, Gary used to play the drums and sing, with his riser sitting a good 10 feet on front of the rest of the band. And he had a mysterious accordion player in the Playboys which you could never hear on "This Diamond Ring," "Count Me In," or any of the other hits. It would almost be a badge of hipness if he had an accordion player now. Still, it's interesting to note that the weakest of Saturday's singers had more of a hand in writing his own big hits than any of the others did, including "Everybody Loves a Clown" and "Just My Style," which he co-wrote with Leon Russell -- another badge of hipness if you're over 45. After performing his six songs, Lewis left the stage to a standing ovation, except for those audience members who were probably under doctors' orders to not overexert themselves.
These are enjoyable pop truffles to be sure, but hardly what you'd expect this open display of gratitude for. By now it was clear, everybody short of shitting the bed onstage was going to get a standing ovation.
Mark Lindsay (of Paul Revere and the Raiders): Still Solid
But he did put extra oomph into his later solo hits like "Arizona" (which would indeed be our state's official song if it didn't have such gobbledygook psychedelic lyrics about the Count of the Monte Cristo and Aesop's Fables) and "Indian Reservation," which he remarked was Columbia's biggest-selling single until "that damned twerp Michael Jackson" came along with "Billie Jean."
While he tried and couldn't moonwalk, he did do some high-stepping leg kicks on, you guessed it, "Kicks." The other irony of hearing Lindsay croon "Maybe someday when they've learned Cherokee nation will return" at an Indian casino appeared to go unnoticed by all present.