There will never be another group quite like Freddie and the Dreamers, and every once in...all right, who was that who just shouted "Thank God!"? Some wiseguy out there, I heard you.

Okay, never mind him. What was I saying? Oh yes, Freddie and the Dreamers. Here's what it's all about. Last summer I chanced upon seeing, for my first time, the 1965 movie Pop Gear. This full-length, full-colour and full-filling flick presents sixteen or so singers and groups from England's Beatscene lip-synching to a song or two on a soundstage. The balanced mix of the day's movers, shakers, second rankers and also-rans paints a perfect letterboxed picture of a golden age in rock history.

But not quite as much as another film, one I've meant to add to the Michaellection for years and only recently did: Big Beat ‘64. It's not a movie, but rather a two-part British television broadcast of the highlights of the 1964 Poll Winners Concert. An annual event, organized by England's music paper, The New Musical Express, these concert always featured the cream of Her Majesty's crop, and the 1964 lineup was one any born-too-late British Invasion fan such as myself would eagerly set Peabody's Wayback Machine to April of that year to go see. And what a show. Sure Pop Gear is cool, and in color. But underneath the black and white kinescope and graininess (and timebar, at least on my copy) of Big Beat ‘64 are actual live performances, some of them most likely standing as the only concert footage available of certain acts. Pop Gear beautifully preserves the image of the acts of the era, their look, the way someone wanted them to be perceived, but Big Beat ‘64 brilliantly displays them as they truly were, when they simply let their musicianship do the talking, and when they were let loose on a stage without any managers or press agents to tailor them.

Together, these two films teach a viewer more about the early days of the British Invasion than any book. They define 1964 and those final days before rock and roll became Rock, before it started to get serious. Before we kicked back with our new wave of hip groups like The Byrds, The Lovin' Spoonful and Gary Lewis and the...okay, well if nothing else, he was a fair trade for Matt Monro. Before rock and roll groups started to, God forbid, concentrate on making their album tracks matter. Before they used the opportunity to "say something." (Before they really had anything to say.)

Both films deserve a close examination. This month I shall critique Pop Gear, and next month I shall do likewise for Big Beat '64.

Pop Gear (released in America as Go Go Mania) begins with the sight of some screaming fans in some amphitheater. We then cut to the subject of the hysteria...four mop-topped guys with guitars and drums on a stage! Yes, THEY kick into the first song of the movie, "She Loves You." THEY play a great, tight and confident version that the three digit decibel shrieking audience is most likely missing out on. THEY cause mass hysteria, and look completely unfazed. THEY are used to this.

After THEY finish their song, and after the bouncy opening credits, we get a brief introduction by Jimmy Saville. American viewers might only see him as a hyperactive, slightly obnoxious freak with a horrible shaggy wig, but in his native country he was well known as a popular British deejay and Top Of The Pops compere...who just so happened to be a hyperactive, slightly obnoxious freak with a horrible shaggy wig. Saville pops up after roughly every artist to do a quick lead-in. For that, American viewers should be grateful, as many of these pop and gear artists never had successful flight into the Billboard Top 100. Thanks to Jimmy introducing each act by name, American viewers, instead of thinking "Who the hell are these guys?" can instead think "Who the hell are The Four Pennies?" Making things more cloudy is the fact that several of the songs by the featured acts that did not cast shadows of any size in America were flops even in their native land.

Billy J. Kramer and the Dakotas kick off the run of scopatone-like mimed soundstage performances made especially for this film (as opposed to the aforementioned clip of THOSE GUYS, originally shot for a 1963 British newsreel). Kramer, amidst a stage of balloons, alphabet blocks, and keyholes, lip-synchs his 1964 classic "Little Children," as his Dakotas, all suits and boots, remain almost motionless behind him, none of them even moving their lips on the bridge for the harmony vocal.

From Billy to the almost completely unknown (to Americans) Susan Maughn, who strolls her bachelorette pad of potted palms and curtains while asking the man upstairs (unseen) to "Make Him Mine," in addition to making many other requests ("make the moon shine just a little brighter...") This single did not make the British charts. Perhaps she should have asked for that as well.

The Four Pennies pine over "Juliet" while walking through a simulated Verona courtyard with a big spritzing fountain. More pop than gear, this very soft number, which won them much success in England, if not lifelong admiration, brings the action to a slight standstill. They return later in the film, and presumably had a power lunch during that intermission because when they reappear they are on fire, providing the hardest rocker of the entire movie, "Black Girl." This, their own version of the oft-covered Leadbelly standard folk tune also known as "In the Pines" or "Where Did You Sleep Last Night?" bursts forth in 6/8 and surpasses even Nirvana's 1993 version for abbrasiveness.

Eric Burdon and his merry furry Animals, clad in matching suits and yellow shirts, take our minds to that house in New Orleans. American fans must have found this sequence intriguing, and not because of that wonderful choreography that has Eric, Hilton Valentine and Chas Chandler slowly walking a circle around the soundstage. By the time this movie made it to the white screens of America, "The House of the Rising Sun" had already been a Number One single there, but both the single and the American album version were chopped considerably (and sloppily). Unless their local deejay had somehow gotten a hold of a British disc, Stateside viewers of this film most likely first heard the full version by way of this film (The full version did not see American release until the 1965 MGM various artists collection British Go Go, released several months after Pop Gear). The surly quintet comes back for an encore towards the end of the film, this time asking not to be misunderstood.

The segment featuring The Fourmost brings home, for me, the true spirit of the Britbeat boom of 1964. "A Little Loving" is a rather plain song, and to my ears, the production isn't all that impressive (to the point that I very well may have exclaimed aloud "You're kidding!" upon finding out the disc was a George Martin special, but it Top Tenned in England, so what do I know?) Nonetheless, the energy and earnestness of the record combined with the sight of The Fourmost (or threemost of them) happily walking around the cardboard mill, happily singing their happy little song underlines the whole attitude of the English recording artists of 1964. And that attitude was...NO attitude. No ego. No 'let's record something that matters.' No pretending their music is anything other than something to entertain you for the next two minutes. Just a bunch of young British boys singing a simple harmless song. Those days are long gone. Heck, they were gone by the end of 1965. But thankfully, we still have *Pop Gear* to prove it actually happened.

For all his fame and rapport with the top groups of the day, Jimmy Saville makes what time proves to be a bad call when he says that "We'll see big things in 1965 for The Rockin' Berries." Well, 1965 only brought one big thing, their last Top Ten hit, "Poor Man's Son." Still, "He's In Town," the Four Seasons-esque hit (actually an American hit for The Tokens), while enjoyable, pales slightly to their second song of the film, "What in the World's Come Over You?"

Next comes what Mister Jimmy describes as a mixed group: "One very very beautiful lady surrounded by four terrible fellows." And with that inviting introduction, The Honeycombs synch their lips (and feet) along with their smash "Have I the Right," all turning their bodies in unison every now and then. One could use this segment as evidence to prove The Honeycombs as the original Goth band, with their matching black suits, black ties, black guitars, black drums. Additionally, this is one of many sequences in the film that provide a glimpse to geeks such as myself curious about what kinds of guitars made those classic Britbeat sounds, such as that twangy lead guitar line on this song. Well, assuming the band members were not quite yet rolling in the dough and able to afford multiple guitars, and assuming The Honeycombs did play on their records (Any producer spending money on professional accomplished top notch session musicians to provide such an amateurish backing track would have to be out of his mind, goofy, nutty, psychotic, real real gone. Who produced this record again?), it's fairly safe to assume that the Burns guitar seen being used by lead guitarist Martin Murray is indeed the one. The Honeycombs appear again in the second half for the underrated softer, darker and slightly spooky (so spooky that it scared away potential buyers, as it missed the UK charts) "Eyes."

The instrumental, brass heavy Sounds Incorporated provide some comic relief with a pair of instrumentals, including "William Tell," both enhanced visually by wacky movement from the combo, such as synchronized jumps and some spastic twisting.

The Gibson acoustic toting Peter and Gordon are seen miming "A World Without Love," mainly sitting down, but standing up and stepping around for the keyboard solo. Hearing the electric 12-string guitar and seeing Gordon try to mime it with his acoustic 6 string is a bit jarring to the senses.

And then comes the true oddball of the pack, Matt Monro. How this internationally successful adult contemporary singer without even a snatch of beat music credentials to him ended up in this film is anybody's guess. Nonetheless, the short haired, conservative looking and slightly older (he was 32 and could have passed for 42) Sinatra-esque vocalist appears to sing his 1964 UK smash "Walk Away" and, later, his moderately successful "For Mama."

During Herman's Hermits' performance of "I'm Into Something Good," Peter does what he always did best...he stands there singing, grinning and swaying, looking cute. The other Hermits do what the other Hermits always did best...they stand motionless behind Peter, not interfering with him as he stands there singing, grinning and swaying, and looking cute.

That troublemaker Billy Fury has a mischievous grin about him as he walks around his Remo Four, making faces and tweaking their noses, keeping time to "Humpty Dumpty" up a castle fortress. Perhaps his bad behavior is why he wasn't allowed a second trip to the soundstage. Nonetheless, the only Fender Stratocaster of the entire film makes its appearance here, its distinctive (mimed) sound coming through loud and clear on the lead guitar line.

Since it's well known that THEY gave Tommy Quickly a (bloody terrible) song that THEY never recorded themselves, Quickly might be familiar to at least a few Americans. Billie Davis, on the other hand, was never blessed with any bottom-drawer handouts, so she's a bit of a mystery to Statesfolk. But over "there" she hit big with a cover of The Exciters' "Tell Him," but did not do likewise with the song she sings here, "Whatcha Gonna Do."

A freshly scrubbed Spencer Davis Group appears, all clad in yellow turtlenecks, singing "My Babe." It's a different kind of song from what most people weaned on their hit singles (of which this was not one) might expect from the group. Stevie Winwood doesn't come in with his trademark voice until the chorus, Spencer and Muff Winwood sharing the vocal for the verses. Heck, he hardly even appears on camera until then, and when we finally see him, he's strumming a guitar, instead of taking on his more familiar keyboard role (and about that guitar he's playing...what is with all those knobs? What's that all about?).

The Nashville Teens, all twenty of them...well, maybe only six...also appear twice. First they tell us about growing up on "Tobacco Road" and later they give us the lowdown on their little friend "Google Eye," a little boy who sits and watches as they tell their tale of fishing poles and days of old jeeps. (Note future Animal Barry Jenkins beating the skins).

A little more than midway through, once every musical act in the film has been seen doing one number, there's a short pause before the encores while a whole troupe of go-go dancers twist, sway, frug and shake for us for three minutes or so. They dance well. They look good (especially the tight gold pants on the females) and the music they move and groove to is your typical generic sixties instrumental pop tune. But the only thing missing from the scene is a sign saying "This is a good time to go buy more popcorn or use the restroom" (though some may argue that Matt Monro's numbers proved just as practical for those purposes.)

And with that, a seemingly randomly chosen handful of the acts we have already seen come back for a second song. After that comes one more dance number from the Saville Swingers, or whatever they go by, bringing the feeling that our musical and cinemascopic trip to England is sadly coming to an end. The feeling is confirmed by the sight of Matt Monro (his third appearance in the film) doing his best Frank Sinatra on the film's title song, a song all about the British music scene and what a swingin'year it's been, and the significance of Pop Gear:

"The Stones were crazy about it.
The Dave Clark Five pounded out it.
The Mersey Beat was a hit
And (THEY) started it."

It's corny, but actually quite catchy and smile-inducing. He brings the song to a grand finale:

"You need Pop Gear. Pop Pop Pop Gear. This was Pop Gear!" he sings, as the sound of the unseen big band wraps it up in typical swing grandiose style, with brass voicing major chords, drum fills to take us out, the same way Bobby Darin's band might end "Beyond the Sea." Matt fades to black on this extended outro, and at this point, one can pretty much picture the theater patrons starting to get up and reach for their coats, since this is obviously the end of the movie.

But wait! It's not over yet! We segue back to that amphitheater with the screaming girls and mass hysteria. Could it be? Yes! THEY are going to do one more song! And with their usual aplomb, confidence and power, THEY kick into a high energy delivery of "Twist and Shout." What a shrewd move it was to have THEM bookend the film.

And so ends the more tailored look at The British Invasion. But what happened when there were no silly sets, makeup crew, no proper lighting, no lip synchs to make sure the music sounded okay, nobody except the bandmembers themselves up on that stage in front of a screaming crowd? The answers next month..

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