Last month here in Fufkin, I examined the 1965 movie Pop Gear in the first of a two part look at The British Invasion as caught on film. I spoke of how that movie, a nonstop parade of full color, lip-synched choreographed scopatones, presented one angle of that golden era, presenting the artists in rather processed form, allowing for retakes, make up checks, lighting, etc. And as enjoyable and historical as the end product is, it's a rather one sided affair, prompting the question "Okay, but what was it like when the bands were free of directors, make up artists, choreographers and playback machines, and were up on an actual concert stage all alone and had to stand on their own actually making the music?"

For the answer to that startling and long-winded question, we delve into the British vaults and dust off...Big Beat '64.

A bit of an information recap from last month's article, for those of you who may have developed amnesia during the last few weeks: Big Beat '64 was a two-part British television special filmed in April of that year at the Empire Pool in Wembley, at the annual Poll Winners Concert arranged by the Brits' fave music rag, New Musical Express. Every year, NME asked their readers to fill out a ballot for which they could vote for their "Favorite Band," "Favorite Male Vocalist," "Favorite New Artist," etc. Once all the votes were counted and the winners determined, NME set about booking as many of the poll-winning acts as they could for a spectacular concert. ABC Television (No, not the American Broadcasting Company) filmed the 1964 show and edited the concert's finest wheat, plus some occasional chaff, into what in 1964 may have merely been something cool for younger Englanders to watch on TV, but nearly four decades later amounts to a fascinating glimpse of England's Beatboom. For while we already know how tight the Hollies sounded on their records, or how brightly the Searchers smiled in their photos, we never really had much in the way of actual concert footage to give us a sense of how they sounded onstage, and for that, Big Beat '64 is an indispensable artifact.

It would be nice if Big Beat '64 presented many of the same artists as Pop Gear, for more direct comparison, but only two of the groups, Billy J. Kramer and the Dakotas and another group Brian Epstein managed, are common to both (though you'll all be just thrilled to know that Jimmy Savile appears as well.) But that's actually a plus in a way, as the combination of the acts in both films therefore presents a wider picture of the overall scene and allows for us to catch other important acts of the day, and taste more of the relatively obscure groups, too. In fact, the only real important British bands unseen in either film who had already made the big time by the end of 1964 are The Dave Clark Five and The Kinks.

After a brief bit of Joe Loss and his Orchestra playing "Hey Fancy Girl," one of their smash hits (Maybe. Who knows?), the first rock and roll band of the program is introduced by British Disk Jockey and co-host David Jacobs, and it's "those just one lookers, The Hollies!" Onstage come the Manchester madmen to perform the alluded hit, plus "Rockin' Robin." And how does the stellar harmony outfit sound onstage? Well, the musicians drive the song straight through, with Captain Bobby Elliot and his vastly underrated drumming skill keeping it all in check. Graham Nash's Hollies-branded acoustic guitar adds a nice touch...for the eyes, at least, since nobody can hear it. As far as the harmonies, Allan Clarke is painfully flat on "Just One Look," but Nash is dead-on as usual.

Jimmy Savile, the other co-host, introduces The Rolling Stones, who in April of 1964, were still the hungry boys from the London blues clubs, with only a few singles and an EP to their discography. That burning hunger comes through in their high-energy performance. They kick off with their latest 45, "Not Fade Away," and then smash into "I Just Wanna Make Love To You," both in versions that rock notably harder than their studio renditions. The Mickster shouts the lyrics, and good ol' Keith, the only guitarist on these numbers (Brian's handling the harmonica,) strums ferociously. Meanwhile, Charlie pounds out the beat with his usual balance of power and solidity. As for Bill, well, the bass player known to have scored with several hundred women must have been caught with the cameraman's wife at some point before the show, because he gets almost zero time onscreen. One gets an early sense of Brian's dissatisfaction (No pun intended. Yeah, right!) with the lead singer getting all the attention instead of he himself getting a share, as Brian grabs the mike at the end of "Just Wanna" to shout some adlibs along with Mick. After the song, Brian, after bowing as if his ad-libbed shouts knocked everyone off their feet, finally picks up a guitar. Uh-oh, here comes Charlie down from the drums to introduce the last number (as Mick brushes some dandruff off his shoulder)..."A Bo Diddley number called "I'm All Right." (Okay, Charlie, if you and the Stones admit it's a Bo Diddley number, care to explain why your recording of it lists it as a group original?) Once Charlie re-situates himself, Keith leads the mob into their famous "Shout"-like stage number, during which Mick prances about with his maracas, followed shortly after by Brian, with guitar around his neck, walking around while banging a tambourine (which not only further illustrates his competition with Jagger but also makes us wonder why Brian even bothered bringing his guitar to this gig). They bring their storm of sound to a close and strut off to a roof-raising ovation.

Now who could possibly follow the Rolling Stones? Ah, of course, Joe Loss and his Orchestra! In truth, there's nothing wrong or bad about his performance of "Peanut Vendor," but one can sense the audience's indifference bouncing off the music stands.

And then comes...Freddie and the Dreamers. To some, the name Freddie and the Dreamers may sound like it could be one of the movies in the Nightmare On Elm Street series, but those movies weren't even half as frightening as the Big Beat '64 visuals that follow. Freddie runs full speed onstage, does a few of his trademark maniacal jumps, emits his famous wacky laugh, and assures the audience that "I am in no way associated with The Rolling Stones," (as if "I'm Telling You Now" had anyone wondering), and with that, leads the band into the music. First comes "Kansas City." (Say, I hate to interrupt, since I know you're all just dying to know what Freddie does next, but if I may, let me ask...Is it just me, or does Freddie's recorded version of "Kansas City" sound an awful lot like The Velvet Underground's "Run Run Run?" Not that I think people who buy Freddie and the Dreamers albums are generally the same people who buy Velvet Underground albums, or anything. Okay, enough of my warped mind. Back to Freddie's.) As was his thing, Freddie is a nonstop clown, singing in funny voices, making weird gestures, pulling funny faces, running around while other musicians dart across the stage in circles. After the song, Freddie lightens the mood, slightly, with the soft ballad "Send Me Some Lovin.'" But even this gentle number falls prey to a few Freddisms. He changes the title to "Shend me shome lovin,'" and deliberately scratches his head like a mad professor. But the real lunacy is yet to come. On the bridge, the band gets louder, with the guitarists and bassist jumping high with the beat until the pause before the start of the next verse...except, on that last beat they collapse onto the floor, seemingly dead, leaving Freddie and the drummer alone. Freddie halts the tune and, with the help of the drummer, tries frantically to bring his musicians back to their feet without falling down again. He eventually succeeds, but when he does, they stand pantless! The sight of the musicians in their boxers prompts much screaming from the crowd (of its suggestiveness or fright? Hard to tell.) Freddie leads the group into a fast-paced, pumping rendition of, what else, "Short Shorts." Midway through, Freddie drops his own drawers, dances ballerina style, and takes what look like daring leaps off and back onto the high stage (how he didn't break a leg or even collapse of exhaustion is beyond comprehension.) At song's end, the five rush off the stage, and the dream is over. And while we the viewers are still trying to make sense of the surrealism that passed before us, we take a moment (and a painkiller) to appreciate the existence of this footage, as it paints the picture of Freddie and the Dreamers that a thousand plays of "You Were Made For Me" on the local Oldies station could never do. It shows just what a visual group they were, and how theatrical their act was, and how serious the group did NOT take themselves and their music, instead opting just to be simple entertainment and have some laughs.

Next comes Liverpool's Swinging' Blue Jeans, just one of the many bands in Big Beat '64 responsible for a significant Northern England tilt on the roster. Anyhow, the combo, their musicianship proving they too tightened their chops after logging long hours of club-playing, provide pumping performances of "Shake Rattle And Roll" (with a little guitar bit at the end that is more than a little bit similar to the riff of "And Your Bird Can Sing") and "Good Golly Miss Molly." The only cog in the wheel is the vocal microphone which for some reason just will not stay in place, and every few seconds needs to be repositioned. This is a problem that persists for the rest of the concert. Still, nice to see another Fender Stratocaster, one of relatively few seen in 1964 England, being played by Ray Ennis.

Any serious fan of the British Invasion already knows the beauty of the recorded output of The Searchers. Their superb harmonies, their enduring melodies and their delicate guitars were the elements that made up the overall solution that helped make them, to many, Liverpool's second finest group. But as enjoyable as they are, their records never exactly rocked the walls. Even on their most raucous recordings, like "Ain't That Just Like Me," The Searchers always sounded somewhat restricted of power. However, Big Beat '64 proves that it wasn't necessarily their fault, because they demonstrate pure fire as they run through their numbers. First is their frenzied "Farmer John," followed by their current single, "Don't Throw Your Love Away." But it's their last number, "What'd I Say," that demonstrates their power. Drummer Chris Curtis, a wild drummer throughout the set, sings lead, and has a ball shouting for the audience to sing the "Hey...Ho" parts. So pumped is his style, one feels tempted to look for a dozen coffee cups near his kit.

The last band seen in the first installment is Brian Poole and the Tremeloes. They deserve special mention for being the only all-Fender group on the bill, as the Tremeloes use one Stratocaster, one Jaguar (Jaguars were quite popular in England, it seems. Several of this relic axe graced the stage that day, with one already seen being used by one of The Dreamers), and a Precision Bass. The suited group runs through their hits "Candy Man" and "Do You Love Me" sounding a bit rough but powerful, and showing their original course of musical direction, before the Tremeloes drained the Poole and charted a softer path.

The credits then roll on Part One. After a one week intermission, British television viewers were transported back to Empire Pool for more Beatblitz.

Manfred Mann open the second half full of life, as their high-charged set of "Sticks and Stones" (which I'm about 5-4-3-2-100 percent sure they never released on disc, making for a nice rarity here) and 'Hubble Bubble' practically rock the stage to and fro. The mere fact that they could transcend a nothing song like "Hubble Bubble" into something interesting speaks volumes about their live power (which has actually inspired me to give their recorded output, of which I must confess I've never been a big fan of, another try). Manfred's Wurlitzer is much louder than any other instrument, so he's driving the music, but the intensity of his playing shows that he drives fast down a straight and narrow path. In their grayish (well, this is black and white, so everything looks grayish) sport coats and black turtlenecks, and with Paul Jones' hair, which is a bit longer and fuller than most wore that year, they actually look more 1965 than 1964, not to say this group was "ahead of their time" or anything. But Jones, the one in the middle, does look especially hip for the day.

Next comes British guitar hero Jet Harris. When he and his band the Innocents kick first into his British smash "Diamonds" and then "Big Bad Bass," with their combination of the driving beat and the saxophone, any big fans of The Dave Clark Five will instantly hear a musical bank that Clark took out a loan from to finance the Tottenham Sound. Two more Fender Jaguars appear during the Jet Set, one used by Jet's rhythm guitarist, and the other, of course, by Jet himself.

Because Jet has to jet to another show, he receives an award for Best Instrumentalist right after his set, instead of waiting until the Awards presentation that comes at the end of the show.

American readers, note the following: Kathy Kirby was a British songstress. She had a song called "You're The One." She also sang a version of the standard "Acapulco '22." She has blonde hair. Got all that? Well, then, congratulations, you now know more about Kathy Kirby than most Americans alive in the 1960's ever did. Rather a shame, though, as in her homeland she is a true legend, known as the Golden Girl of British Pop, with an extensive recording and television history. The young Brits loved her, and said so with votes in the New Musical Express, landing her performance of the two aforementioned songs in Big Beat '64.

However, I'm willing to bet my entire record collection (which doesn't have any Kathy Kirby, I'm afraid) we're hearing a rerecording dubbed in over the visuals. The orchestra sounds a little too well mixed for the ragged conditions and microphone positions we see. I could be wrong...it wouldn't be the first time today...but a little later we will see that other artists most clearly had some post-production sweetening, so it isn't too crazy a notion.

Yet another of the bill's Northern Englanders takes the stage next. It's Billy J. Kramer and the Dakotas. Billy looks happy, trim, in good form, and sings well (in other words, the exact opposite of how he looked and sounded at a free Long Island concert he did this summer, but let's not go there.) They don't play up a storm, but adequately get through "I'll Keep You Satisfied" (written by two guys who were probably at that moment passing a bottle around with the Rolling Stones backstage) and "They Remind Me Of You."

It is just after Billy and the boys that we are first introduced to one particular annoying aspect of this second installment that persists for much of the remainder to the point that you'll want to scream:

An old trick used in television programs or films of performances is to beef up some of the ovations. The editors may copy the ovation given to one act and dub it in where needed. Therefore, if, say, Joe Loss didn't get a hardy round of applause the night of the show, no problem. In the editing stage, someone will simply dub in the handy dandy 'stock ovation' tape, acquired from some other artist's set, and when the show airs, it will sound like Joe Loss went over big.

Well, this little trick will only work if one key rule is obeyed: If you're going to make a 'stock ovation' tape out of the cheers that followed Jimmy Savile's introduction of The Shadows...MAKE SURE YOU CUT OUT JIMMY SAVILE SAYING "THE SHADOWS!" But the brains in the editing department somehow overlooked this, and as a result, for almost all the remaining acts in the second half, we hear, after they are introduced, "The Shadows! (screams)...The Shadows! (screams)...The Shadows! (screams)."

First to lurk in the shadow of The Shadows are The Merseybeats (who Fufkin's own Dawn Eden once rightly pointed out as being one of the few bands where just from their name you can tell where they were from, what kind of music they played, and when they were together. I myself might consider adding Sergio Mendes and Brazil '66 to that list, but not today.). Now, while I only suspect Kathy Kriby's music was rerecorded, the three selections by the great but sadly overlooked Liverpool combo are most obviously retakes dubbed in. If the pristine fidelity, perfectly balanced mix, the sound of two electric guitars against the sight of one electric and one acoustic, and the sudden complete dropout of the audience are not enough hints, one need only watch drummer John Banks and note how rarely his movement matches the drumming we hear. Considering the thought that there probably isn't a whole heck of a lot of live performance footage of The Merseybeats in existence, it's a shame that what does exist has been doctored (and said doctor should lose his license!) These versions of "I Think Of You," "Don't Turn Around" and "I'm Gonna Sit Right Down And Cry Over You" do make nice alternatives to the records, like listening to cool Beeb performances, but it would have been nice to hear what really happened.

Big Dee Irwin, the only American artist to perform a song in *Big Beat '64,* comes next. He (and his backing group, the Diamonds) shows the English crowd that even in April 1964, two months PT (post-THEM), early 1960s-style sax-driven, twist-friendly manufactured pop music still ran rancid in America, and that the Brill Building writers still had jobs. He proves this by singing "Happy Being Fat." This might have been a nice little American pop record in 1963, but put alongside The Rolling Stones, Hollies, Merseybeats, and the group that closes the show, this kind of music must have sounded especially silly (not that a song with lines like "Leave me alone with my ice cream cone and let me eat my fill" ever had a chance NOT to sound silly.)

English legend Joe Brown and his funny hair, which looks fake even if it isn't, plants his six foot plus body onto the stage and, with the help of his Bruvvers, confidently raves through "I'm Henry VIII I Am," his version of the century old melody being the one that struck a chord with 'Erman a few months later. Then he turns things completely around by switching to acoustic guitar (as does his rhythm guitarist) for a trial by fire performance of a selection from Bizet's *Carmen.* He succeeds (though this too may also be a rerecording dubbed over. Not only does everything sound too clean for the microphone situation seen, but at one point Brown moves the guitar slightly away from the mike as he plays, yet we hear no change in the volume or tone.) But then it's back to rock and roll. Anyone who had never heard of Joe Brown before viewing *Big Beat '64* would still be able to tell he was an East Ender from his last number, "What A Crazy World We're Living In." This song, the theme for an early 1960's movie, is stamped Cockney. Brown's performance shines from earnestness and enthusiasm. Though Brown was a serious minded musician, he has a ball playing up to the teenage crowd.

After his set, Roy Orbison comes out (to heartwarming screams of pure delight) to present Joe, about to dash off to another performance, his award for Top British Vocal Personality.

Like several other bands already mentioned, Gerry and the Pacemakers prove themselves a much stronger live act than their records suggest (and Gerry proves himself to be a much shorter person than his record sleeves suggest). Solid live versions of "I Like It" and "I'm The One" run on full steam, thanks in part to Gerry's chunky Gretsch Tennessean. Even on the soft classic "Don't Let The Sun Catch You Crying," Gerry and his mob appear quite commanding. Stripped of the strings and woodwinds that flavor this single, the song comes across more as a garage-ballad. Gerry himself is full of pep, repeatedly shouting "Hello mother!" and waving in every which direction.

Well..only one band left, and coming out to introduce them is the legendary American deejay Murray The K. Murray tells the crowd that Americans have truly enjoyed the "invasion" of British groups in America (could THIS be the origin of the phrase?) He then calls out the band member's names one by one, inciting the crowd, and with that, he introduces...THEM!

To the sound of much mayhem (no "Shadows" necessary), the four, in their cool dark suits plug into their Vox amplifiers and plunge right into their set, beginning with a strong "She Loves You." It doesn't even matter that Johnny Them unwillingly shuffles the verses, or spends time trying to keep that damned microphone in place, because as THEY play, one senses a balanced mixture of confidence, energy, smoothness, charisma and that unknown ingredient THEY had that we've all been trying to pinpoint and classify since 1964 that makes it clear why they always stood out just a little further than the other great groups of their day. Their second song is "You Can't Do That," also a strong performance, and also a showcase for a Lennon gaffe. After the second verse, instead of going into the bridge, that crazy John, who must have thought they had just finished the third verse, puts forth the scream that leads into the instrumental break. His look of confusion when he realizes his error, spotting Paul and George harmonizing for "Everybody's green," is priceless, and worth a scan-back on the VCR. "Twist And Shout" has as much fuel as ever (they play the full song, and not the abbreviated version they did at most live shows from late 1963 through 1965.) Paul then assumes lead vocal responsibility, first for a breakneck "Long Tall Sally," on which George's solo is just a little bit sticky (he's playing his Rickenbacker 12 string, as he does for the entire set, which does not lend itself well to guitar solos because of bending difficulty caused by doubled strings.) They come in for a landing with their current single, "Can't Buy Me Love."

In addition to the live performances, there's also the presentation of the awards. Maurice Kinn of *New Musical Express* calls on the help of who was then the star of the popular British television show *The Saint,* Roger Moore (though in truth the future James Bond really doesn't do much except hand the awards to the artists and shake their hands.) Together they award...

Jimmy Savile, Runner-up Best Deejay.

David Jacobs, Best Deejay.

The Searchers, Runner Up, Best Vocal Group. (Three Searchers come out to collect the awards, with Chris Curtis arriving much later.)

Kathy Kirby, Top Female Singer. (No runner-up is mentioned.)

Billy J. Kramer, Runner Up, Top New Disc or TV Singer.

The Joe Loss Orchestra, Top British Big Band. (The applause is noticeably lukewarm. Where was that "The Shadows" tape? Anyway, one has to wonder how many groups Loss competed with.)

Gerry Marsden, Top New Disc or TV Singer.

THOSE GUYS!!!!, several awards including Top Group Of The Year and Top Four Records Of The Year. They receive their awards and shake hands and exchange pleasantries with Roger Moore. My lip-reading ability tells me Paul and Roger are NOT discussing a big project they'd both be key players of nine years later.

And so ends Big Beat '64 and its fascinating peek into the British Beat in that crucial moment just as many of these groups were having their final moments of international obscurity. While Americans had already met THEM, they still had yet to be Stoned or Hollied. Manfred Mann's first American hit wouldn't even be taped for another two months. These bands were still well-kept secrets only a few weeks and months away from being treasures revered worldwide, and caught in April 1964, it's only recently that the thought of any of these homeland heroes breaking big in America would initiate even a "maybe."

The power of the British rock scene of 1964 crashed upon America like a tidal wave. This film is a snapshot of the wave just about to wash the sands afresh.

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NEXT MONTH: What group may possibly be the only band in the history of rock and roll to become known worldwide despite the fact that they never made a record, never appeared on TV, and never did any gigs more than a few miles from home? Find out, and read a review of a new book all about them in next month's Fufkin.

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