Ever attend an oldies show and leave feeling a little ripped off after enduring a succession of too-young, mercenary imposters who have no connection to the groups whose names they are eroding other than a purchased trademark on a piece of paper? "The Technically Legal Drifters" (or Coasters) singing rote, uninspired versions of songs that mean nothing to them. Well, Daddio, this is the video for you. This is the real deal, the doo-wop equivalent of Woodstock, Lollapolooza and a Beatles reunion rolled into one.

A co-production of PBS station WQED-TV and Rhino Records, Doo-Wop 50 presents 21 acts from the genre's heyday, in concert in Pittsburgh in May '99. An abbreviated version aired on PBS pledge drives and was so successful that the two-video, 140-minute home video release was delayed by Rhino.

WQED's T.J. Lubinsky, who masterminded the program, made every attempt (and no doubt went to great lengths) to get the group's original surviving members, so this is not a succession of pale imitations--and it shows. Cudos also to the fantastic back-up band, lead by saxophonist Richard "Brother Rick" Mansfield, which reproduced every arrangement faithfully, complete with string section.

For the uninitiated (for whom this would be a fitting introduction), doo-wop is the street-corner vocal-harmony sub-genre of rhythm & blues known for introducing record-buying teens of the '50s to such profound lyrics as "sha-na-na-na," "dom-diddle-a, dom-diddle-a," and the ever-popular "chiggawah, chiggawop, chigga-boom." Whereas rhythm & blues was, as its name implies, a revved-up, danceable version of the blues (with a healthy dose of gospel), doo-wop owed more to the smooth pop vocal groups of the 1930s and '40s, such as the Mills Brothers and Ink Spots. Lubinsky's definition of doo-wop may be a little broad for some--encompassing groups that are more in the straight R&B tradition, as well as some solo artists (can a solo artist be doo-wop?)--but we can leave such delineations to the hairsplitters; the variety this adds to the proceedings is welcome.

The show kicks off with probably the most commercially successful doo-woppers of the '50s, the Platters, who unfortunately supply one of the evening's weakest moments. Led by original bass singer Herb Reed, with a mediocre substitute for the group's deceased lead singer, Tony Williams--and not helped by Reed's corny, "Do you remember this one?" presentation--their two songs give no hint of the highpoints to come. And come they do, in short order.

One of doo-wop's several inter-racial groups, the Del-Vikings (with two original members: Norman Wright and Dave Lerchey) soon liven up the proceedings with a dead-on, spirited rendition of "Come Go With Me," from 1957, and it's instantly heart-warming to see these senior citizens reliving their glory days, complete with dance steps. It may be tempting to dismiss this as music by grandparents (most of the performers are probably in the late fifties to mid sixties) for grandparents (like me), but judging by the '60s, '70s and even '80s revivals I've seen, I'd put my money on these oldsters in a battle of the bands or a street brawl. Sure, some of the glittery matching suits (a show in themselves) are stretched over paunches, and in some cases juxtaposed with out-of-date attempts at being up-to-date (dread locks, pony tails, even geri-curls--usually attached to balding pates), but the energy these fogies churn up is simply amazing.

Even more remarkable is that the singers are not just in good voice, but in incredibly strong, pure, beautiful voice--probably because this was not a music of screamers and belters, but of crooners whose deliveries ranged from whispers to soaring crescendos. Pittsburgh's own Skyliners are a perfect example of the latter. Lead singer Jimmy Beaumont was 18 when he cut their classics "Since I Don't Have You" and "This I Swear," but on this night he was 59 years old. And he hit every note of every line--even the "I-ay don't have love to share"--right on the money, receiving a standing ovation from the hometown crowd in the process.

Doo-wop exhibited in abundance two elements that are sadly lacking in most contemporary music, rock or otherwise: romance and sheer, nonsensical fun. If the Skyliners (an all-white teen group who hit both the Pop and R&B charts) epitomized the former, the Marcels embodied the latter. All five original members were reunited here, to sing--what else?--"Blue Moon."

Though it almost resembles a song-by-song rundown, I'll attempt to recap some of the show's other highlights. Such as: Gene Chandler, in cape, top hat and cane, entering from back of the house, singing "Duke Of Earl" up the center aisle; Johnny Maestro & Brooklyn Bridge, who evolved from the Crests, singing hits from 1958 ("16 Candles") and '68 ("Worst That Could Happen"); the Cleftones (with lead singer Herb Cox) serving up stirring renditions of "Little Girl of Mine" and "Heart and Soul"; Gene Pitt & the Jive Five's "My True Story" and the eery "What Time Is It?" (which borrowed heavily from Flamingos' "I Only Have Eyes For You"); the elaborate choreography (and Earl Lewis' falsetto) of the Channels on "That's My Desire"; Joe "Speedo" Frazier of Impalas singing "Sorry (I Ran All the Way Home)"; and Arlene Smith reuniting with the original Chantels and nailing every note in the stratosphere on "Maybe."

Harvey Fuqua, who went on to a successful songwriting and managing career with Motown (proof that this was not a night of one-hit has-beens) led his Moonglows through "Sincerely" and "The Ten Commandments of Love"; Italio-American groups the Passions, the Imaginations and the Fascinators combined to form the Legends Of Doo-Wop, featuring the softest of voices in Jimmy Gallagher; and the Cadillacs (with "Mister Earl" Carroll) tore things up with "Speedo" and their original version of the oft-recorded "Gloria."

But the worth-the-price-of-admission highpoint of the show came when emcee Jerry Butler, backed by the vocal group Pure Gold, did an impromptu version of the classic he cut with the Impressions in 1958, "For Your Precious Love." I don't know about the auditorium in Pittsburgh, but there wasn't a dry eye in my house.

As great as the live show was, however, the video version is not without its problems, such as way too many audience shots (as well as shots of the cornball backdrop of hotrods, malt shop motives and photos of James Dean and Marilyn Monroe); camera angles (and ill-placed monitors) that lose much of the choreography; and most of all horrendous editing, with so many annoying quick cuts (about every four seconds) it makes you want to reach for your switchblade. Something to fix in future installments.

And the good news is that at least the immediate future is secure, assumedly thanks to PBS donations this spurred. Doo-Wop 51, from last year, has already aired on pledge drives and will reportedly be available from Rhino in 2001 (assumedly in the fall). If anything, it contains ever more highlights: Don & Juan's "What's Your Name"; the Diamonds' first-ever summit meeting with Maurice Williams, composer of their hit "Little Darling"; the Tokens' "Lion Sleeps Tonight"; the Edsels' "Rama Lama Ding Dong"; the Clovers' "Love Potion #9"; the Tymes' "So Much In Love"; and Dells, who didn't need to be reunited because they've never broken up, singing "Oh, What a Night." But while Mel Carter's roof-raising take of "Hold Me, Thrill Me" gave him a run for his money, the Ice Man, Jerry Butler, stole the show again--this time reuniting with Betty Everett for the classic "Let It Be Me."

So will there be a Doo-Wop 52? Let's hope so. Because the story won't be complete until even more great acts get one more moment in the spotlight. The Treniers, the Dovells, Ben E. King, Little Anthony & the Imperials, the Fleetwoods, the Five Satins, the Mello-Kings, the Olympics, the Rivingtons, the Contours, and on and on. Maybe the two acts most successful in carrying the sound into the '60s mainstream, Dion & the Belmonts and the Four Seasons, could even be snared. And Jerry Butler could sing "He Will Break Your Heart."

Oh, what a night, indeed.


(C) 2001 - Dan Forte