Archival Buffalo News feature articles

  Weird and powerful, right from the get-go. March 15, 1979 Compelling, Energetic B-52s Bombard Area Rock Fans           Just when it seemed like we’d seen the last New Wave rock sensation, the B-52s have come along to keep the spirit alive.           Mobbing the quintet for their first appearance here Wednesday night at McVan’s were about 200 fans – most likely all the same people who bought out their single, “Rock Lobster,” at the local underground record stores.           It was the usual vivid New Wave crowd, plenty of leather jackets, earrings and other strikingly sleazy fashions. Among those present were the Vores, singer Fred Mann of the Enemies and singer Mark Freeland, who was distributing homemade Electroman badges.           None of them, however, were quite as weird as the B-52s themselves, a most improbable ensemble of three front singers and two instrumentalists.           Though two of the singers were women, this was hardly a New Wave Fleetwood Mac. Dres

  One of the all-time greats on a club date. March 12, 1979 Dire Straits Guitarist Reaches Back to ‘50s           Sold out several days in advance, Lockport’s After Dark club is jammed to 900-plus capacity Sunday night for rock ‘n roll’s first overnight sensation of 1979 – a modest four-man guitar band from London, England, called Dire Straits.           On the strength of their sudden success, they might have scrapped this club tour of the U.S. in favor of bigger halls and bigger money. But they want a different kind of payoff and it starts coming the moment the crowd stops buzzing at the sound of the guitar.           That’s Mark Knopfler’s melancholy red Stratocaster outlining the melody for “Down to the Waterline” and it’s one of two reasons why Dire Straits shot into the Top 10 in less than a month.           Knopfler is a guitar player’s guitar player. His style stretches back to Scotty Moore, Presley’s guitarist in the ‘50s, and James Burton, who did the same for Ric

  Offbeat, but not entirely forgotten. Feb. 22, 1979 review British Rockers Delight in the ‘60s           “All I can say is there’s not many of you out there, so you better enjoy it,” says Tony de Meur as the Fabulous Poodles start their set Wednesday night in Lockport’s After Dark. “This first song is about throwing yourself off a bridge in North London.”           Doubtless the cold, corrupted waters of the Thames would look good after this American tour. A week ago, all their instruments and stage clothes were stolen in Boston. Tuesday in Cleveland, de Meur was conked on the head with a beer bottle. Here they’ve drawn a paltry turnout of about 200.           Despite these setbacks, the Fab Poos remain undaunted in their mission to bring ‘60s-style fun back to a world beset by punk-rock and disco. Just as the Blues Brothers are foster children of early rhythm and blues, the Poodles are sons of the British Invasion – particularly the Kinks and the Who.           Their song

  A blast from the not-too-distant past. Nov. 19, 1978 review Like Fine Wine, Moody Blues Have Aged Well          The Moody Blues returned to Memorial Auditorium Saturday night for the first time in five years and took 16,000 devotees on a magic carpet ride back to the nights in white satin, back to when the giddiness of the 1960s was turning into the fantasies of the ‘70s.          During their long layoff, everyone in the British-bred group has married and had children, but they’ve survived very well indeed.          The front line – Justin Hayward, Ray Thomas and John Lodge – was more hale and hearty than ever. The harmonies were in place. The new songs were brisk and agreeable. The one ones throbbed with fresh life. In fact, they rocked out gloriously.          Substituting for Mike Pinder, the man who gave the group the sound of a thousand violins via the mellotron, was Patrick Moraz, formerly the keyboardman with Yes.          Moraz replicated Pinder’s sound to a po

  A hot night I would happily go back and relive. Nov. 9, 1978 Byrne, Talking Heads Infuse Old Tunes with New Sizzle          Talking Heads, the most courteous and clever of the new bands that germinated in CBGB’s in New York City, gave some 700 bobbing, cheering fans a high-intensity musical message Wednesday night.          They engulfed their setting – the Spectrum, a sweltering former supermarket at Elmwood Avenue and Amherst Street – with droning rhythm guitars, an energizing beat and the capricious, croaking tenor of singer, songwriter and guitarist David Byrne.          Lean, short-haired Byrne was a compelling presence. He stood deadpan, drenched in sweat, straining occasionally on his tiptoes as he sang, rocking back on his heels to pick off some rapid-fire single-note counterpoint.          As a singer and stage figure, Byrne took the excruciating internal restraint of Roxy Music’s Bryan Ferry and turned it into a smoldering madness. As guitarist, he made atonal

  Two enormous favorites of mine, but on this night just one of them delivered. Oct. 28, 1978  Good Old Days All That’s Left of Van Morrison          A sellout crowd in Shea’s Buffalo Theater Friday got to see a living legend having a dead night. Van Morrison, the Irish-born singer and songwriter rave of the early ‘70s, seemed generally dispirited, sang weakly and turned in a set that lasted barely an hour.          Sadly to say, the most thrilling moment came when he abandoned his microphone and allowed one of his backup singers to come forward to do a splendid rendition of “Crazy Love.”          Morrison played harmonica, but didn’t touch his saxophone. He was generally remote from both his audience and his new band, which sounded as anemic as he did. Oh, for the good old days of the Caledonia Soul Orchestra with its slam-bang breaks and high-horsepower horns.          They were especially missing on “Wild Night.” Pete Bardens’ synthesizer just couldn’t provide the necess