Archival Buffalo News feature articles

  There was so much to celebrate about the Buffalo Sabres in 1975, the first time they made the Stanley Cup finals. Here in 1976, not so much. April 17, 1976  Sabres' Songs Push Windfall as Disco Band  CROSS-CHECKING HOCKEY TRAFFIC all the way out Main Street to just beyond Transit, it’s possible to elbow into a packed Patrick Henry’s (the former Poorhouse East) just in time to hear the band announce that the Sabres have won their firsts playoff round from the St. Louis Blues.           Now if this were Schony’s, another nightspot this group Windfall plays, then there might be a move toward celebration. But not here. If these unmatched singles cared, they wouldn’t have come out dancing and drinking.           Last year, with singer Donna McDaniel belting out “We’re Gonna Win That Cup,” Windfall fanned the city’s hockey fever.           This year Donna rarely does the Sabres victory chant and the whole band’s just as glad. * * * THE MAIN REASON is because they wore it

  In sports terms, a truly colossal upset. April 8, 1976 2nd-Billed Frampton Beats J. Geils Band    He may have been second-billed, but guitarist Peter Frampton was the reason why most of the 14,000 heavy rock fanciers were in Memorial Auditorium Wednesday night.           The affable, golden-curled Frampton, who left Humble Pie on the brink of their success, has unexpectedly shot to the top himself this spring with a live album that’s Number One on the charts.           It’s a case of popular taste finally catching up to him. Four years ago it was that he forsook heavy metal to steer into gentler, more artful directions.           With a stockpile of favorites accumulated since then, Frampton’s a safe, solid artist, a more conservative rave than one might expect from these youngish fans, whose pre-concert celebrations left the Aud area littered with hundreds of bottles and cans. * * * LIVE FRAMPTON was pretty much the Frampton live album re-created. Same strategy – Frampt

  As a big fan, I was overjoyed to see this artist back on the stage after a long layoff. April 12, 1976  Laura Nyro Gives Reason to Smile            In a long dress as red as the cover of her “Smile” album, Laura Nyro has the air of someone who’s been asked to a concert at Kleinhans Music Hall because her friends don’t want her to spend Saturday night alone.           Such friends she has. Among those nearly filling the hall is Buffalo Philharmonic maestro Michael Tilson Thomas. On stage, it’s the most polyglot band one could imagine. Women playing bongos and two of the three horns. On drums, gleefully bionic session ace Andy Newmark.           Newmark rides herd as this happily swinging crew puts the kiss of affirmation on Nyro’s solitary, jazz-toned musings from “Smile,” plus selected early favorites.           It’s said they’re recording this for a live album. Hope so. This hour ought to be relived, if only for the spellbinding conclusion to “I Am the Blues” and Nyro’s pian

  Sometimes a Buffalo band just has to get out of town. March 27, 1976  Ian Quail Rocks Halfway Across the Country   THE REPORTER’S LATE , but no later, really, than the well-traveled Dodge van that lurches to rest against a slushy curb in front of him.           Out tumble three interviewees bearing plastic boxes of fastburgers. Lunch? More likely breakfast.           Their mid-afternoon banter has echoes that are definitely morning-after. Even when they’re home, it seems like they’re on the road.           These irregulars clump to the back door of an ordinary-looking Town of Tonawanda house and down the stairs to an untypical basement and the offices of J. R. Productions.           The rest of the band, plus road crew, are thick as a family reunion in the reception area. Handshake on the right comes from curly-haired manager Scott Donalds, who the reporter always mistakes for a member of the group, namely curly-haired singer Craig Korka. * * * CRUCIAL DIFFERENCE : Do

  One of First Lady Mamie Eisenhower's favorite groups. One of my mom’s favorites too. I remember them well from hearing their version of  “Twilight Time” on the kitchen shelf radio when I was a kid. Feb. 26, 1976 Three Suns: Same Sound, New Local Faces “MUSIC MAN” WAS HIS CB RADIO handle when he was trucking steel for automobiles from here to Flint , Mich. Then came last year’s auto slump.           Emmett Nolan sat home in Cheektowaga watching his business taper off and decided to put his music to work.           “I play nine instruments,” Nolan says, “but up to then I’d just played weekends. I called some agents in New York City and one of them called back to ask if I wanted to work with the Three Suns.           “I said yes and he said send me a tape and I was preparing the tape when I got another call. This time it’s from Artie Dunn of the Three Suns.           “He said he didn’t have time to wait and would I play something over the telephone. * * * “MY DA

  At this particular moment in time, David Bowie can do no wrong. March 20, 1976  Bowie Sparkles Even Brighter  Now That the Glitter's Gone             We play “Station to Station” after the David Bowie concert Friday night and it becomes perfectly clear why his current tour, now in its seventh week, has gotten great reviews.           “You know,” my associate observes, “he sounded better at the Aud than he does on the record.”           Sitting in point-blank range of a bank of speakers doesn’t hurt either. Actually, it does hurt. Carlos Alomar pierces his guitar through eardrums early on in the evening’s opener. Certain sensibilities will be tender all night.           Sensibilities suffer their first assault before the music begins. Preceding the proceedings is the classic Salvador Dali-Luis Bunuel Dadaist film, “The Andalusian Dog.” * * * FORTY-SIX YEARS have faded this artsy-icky bad dream, but few of these 12,000 kids have witnessed such modern wonders as “The Te

  In which we meet a couple guys who went on to become major movers in the music industry.  Feb. 14. 1976  'Superfans Get New Hits Played on Radio AS A RULE , record promotion men don’t have to display any more basic qualities than any other soldiers of fortune do.           All they have to be is totally dedicated and totally cynical at the same time – an attitude that’s best developed via a career in radio.           So the first time I laid eyes on Bruce Moser 18 months ago in a ticket line at Artpark, I wondered whether he’d cut it.           The guy’s too nice, I suspected. Altogether too innocent and young – he was 23 then – to be out there battling on the front lines of the music biz.           He certainly didn’t fit the rule. No radio experience, aside from listening to it. Bruce’s main qualification is that he’s a fan. No, not just a fan – a superfan.           He’d been a singer with a group called The Restless. He’d collected more than 1,000 albums and kept