Archival Buffalo News feature articles

  The quickest mind I’ve ever encountered – in a league with Robin Williams – and the only guy I know personally who’s in the Rock ‘N Roll Hall of Fame.   Dec. 7, 1974 Creative Associate with Modern Ideas   TOM CONSTANTEN IS A MAN of many manias. Television, for one. You open the door to the back stairway going up to his third-floor flat in Buffalo ’s Parkside area and there he is, sitting on the lower steps, engrossed in a TV story.           Such steadfast studiousness does not go unrewarded. Since moving here from Oakland in September with not much more than his wife, Sea; their half-coyote dog, Guinevere; an 11-year-old car and a color TV set (he had to leave his 1895-vintage piano behind), he’s discovered that one of his longtime passions is on two channels back to back.           It doesn’t matter that he’s seen all the 15-part episodes three or four times each. Everything stops for “Rocky and Bullwinkle.”           “Tom’s addicted to ‘Bullwinkle,’” Sea confides. “H

  The last of the four major rock tours that visited here in November 1974.   Nov. 22, 1974 Abstract Appeal Levitated Fans; Faithful Glowed in Answer: ‘Yes’             I hadn’t seen so many shirts inscribed with the group’s name since Blue Oyster Cult hit town.           From all sides they glowed at you, especially in that custom-car blue that fades to purple, pulsing out a single word. Yes.           Yes doesn’t have mere fans. It has staunch devotees. The faithful – mostly intense high schoolers and gung ho collegians who like their rock fantasies dense and intense, but clean – draw a hard and absolute line between themselves and the doubtful.           Perhaps that’s why 5,000 believers in Memorial Auditorium Thursday night seemed as enthusiastic over the British fivesome with Patrick Moraz on the keyboards. Even without wizard Rick Wakeman, it was still Yes.           But not much of that enthusiasm rubbed off on five other Britishers named Gryphon, who led off.

  Seeing Herbie Hancock accompanying Brittany Howard on “Both Sides Now” in the 2021 Kennedy Center Honors show, I recalled that I had this snapshot of him from 47 years ago. What I didn’t remember was that he had a sensational opening act.   Oct. 10, 1974   Hancock in Command With Shifting Rhythms             “Did you see O. J. Simpson?” my associate beams. “He’s bee-youuutiful.”           No, I didn’t. At that point Wednesday night I’m deep in the sea of buffed and polished, combed and curled, duded-up Black and white folks around the oasis downstairs in Kleinhans Music Hall .           Seems like everybody in this crowd of 1,800 or so wants to get behind something fluid for Herbie Hancock. As it turns out, he’s just right in a furry focus.           His Headhunters band set up a beat and he comes out a loose and happy hero, bowing once to cheers, taking his command post, keyboards on three sides of him.           Hancock works not with melodies, not with messages,

  I remember well how hard it was to get my car unstuck from a foot of the white stuff at the corner of Seneca Street and Michigan Avenue en route to this concert. Chilled to the core, I didn’t go directly to my seat, but spent the entire opening set thawing out in front of a huge heating vent.   Nov. 16, 1974   Zany Zappa Draws 1,800 Despite the Swirling Snows             Nanook, no no. The Friday afternoon squalls were totally blotting out the grey mass of Memorial Auditorium a mere city block away and Festival East was saying the Frank Zappa concert was still on.           After all, wasn’t Zappa’s equipment already in town? And weren’t Zappa and the Mothers here too, having only to snowshoe over from the previous night’s gig in Rochester ?           But for some 2,000 ticketholders, the outlook wasn’t so bright. The radio announcers said anybody going downtown last night was bananas. It would be a crazy thing to do, the kind of crazy thing you’d do only for a zany lik

  Beginning with this date, the kings of surf rock catch a Western New York wave.   Nov. 13, 1974 Surf’s Still Up for Beach Boys   NIAGARA FALLS – There’s a certain delicious vindication for old fans like me in seeing the Beach Boys riding high again on an unexpected revival and selling out the Niagara Falls Convention Center .           It’s a revenge made keen by all those psychedelic and heavy metal years when you’d get abused without mercy for any hint of affection for the kings of the early ‘60s surf sound.           But the scoffers weren’t out Tuesday night. They’ve grown up and stayed home. Instead, the median age is about 15 – high schoolers sneaking their first cigarettes and guzzling illicit beers in the traffic jam on the way up.           The kids come because the Beach Boys resonate with the passions of youth. They stand for fast cars, yearning romances, the beach, the sun and the fun, fun, fun of endless summers. * * * AND THEY keep singing, even th

  November 1974 was one of those peak months for major rock concerts in Buffalo, beginning with this visit from the latest incarnation of David Bowie.   Nov. 10, 1974 A Subtle Elegance  Marks New Bowie             The lines are too long at the Memorial Auditorium box office Friday night. Also too late, which is why one girl is in tears. She’s waited here three hours and David Bowie is sold out.           A sell-out means every seat except those few thousand behind stage. The backdrop, that big white screen, would ruin the view.           As for Bowie , the most intensely glamorous and artistic of all the British glitter rockers, it just wouldn’t do. Bowie has to be seen.           Surprisingly, it’s not a glimmery crowd. A few satins and spangles, a lovely girl with green and blue hair, but otherwise these collegiates and high schoolers might well be out for Loggins & Messina. * * * YOU AWAIT the first dazzling flash of Bowie ’s entrance impatiently during the u

  My next-to-last musical feature of 1974, a year when record reviews took over that showcase page in TV Topics more and more frequently.   Nov. 16, 1974 Singer Jon Kondal Can Do Really Dreamy Things   THE WAITRESS kids Jon Kondal about not knowing there’s soup at the salad bar. Isn’t this virtually his second home? Well, yes, he grins, but he’s never eaten here before.           Indeed, the main deck dining room is the only room in the revitalized Showboat in the Niagara River at the foot of Hertel Avenue that the sandy-haired singer hasn’t played. The starring attractions here are strictly culinary.           But during the past three years, Jon’s hit all the other decks, literally working his way up from the Engine Room, which is now the raucous habitat of X-rated pianist John Valby.           These days Jon Kondal pilots the big bandstand in the main deck’s Silver Dollar Lounge Wednesdays through Sundays, a task occasionally too large for seven-man groups, with nothin

  An under-the-radar group of first-rate players, one with a connection to a raunchy local legend.   Nov. 2, 1974 ‘Pure Pleasure’ – A Happy Weekend Band   “YOU CAN’T MAKE a decent living in music if you stay in one city,” a well-traveled Buffalo musician was saying. “You either gotta go on the road or get a day job.”           But say you don’t want to travel. Hunkering down into the old 9 to 5 demands some adjustments in one’s musical bent.           The primary quest now becomes not stardom, but time, enough time to eat and work and practice and maybe play Friday and Saturday nights and sleep – especially sleep.           In other words, you become a weekend musician. Among full-time players, the term is like an ethnic joke. There’s a stigma attached: amateurism, lack of commitment, ineptitude.           But it ain’t necessarily so, as even full-timers sometimes admit. A lot of good musicians settle down, acquire wives, kids and mortgage payments and still remain good