John, Yoko, Eric, and others

John, Yoko, Eric, and others

For the Second time this summer, Toronto’s Varsity Stadium was taken over by Brauer - Walker Enterprises, this time for a “Rock and Roll Revival.” The rationale behind so labeling the bash was the promised appearance of some great first generation rock stars, along with some of the usual pop festival crew. But the big thing about it, the thing was, Toronto was to be the first public appearance ever of John Lennon and the Plastic Ono Band, or, if you will, the Plastic Ono Band (with John Lennon), doin’ it for peace.

The festival was to be filmed by D.A. Pennebaker, of Don’t Look Back and Monterey Pop fame. The film company had originally paid Brauer - Walker, $10,000 for the right to make the film, but when it was learned that the Ono Band would be there, the promoters asked for more money, in an undisclosed but substantial amount. Leacock-Pennebaker had flown tons of equipment and a twenty man crew up from New York, when they were informed that they could not start filming until the additional money was put up; the promoters had them up against the wall and were determined to make the most of it. Pennebaker managed to hustle the extra money, but in the process missed the first two sets, so Bo Diddley had to be brought on a second time for the benefit of the cameras. The other band they missed was a local group called Flapping, who never did get their show on film.

Bo Diddley was well-received, as were most of the acts that followed him, including Chicago, Tony Joe White {Polk Salad Annie), Jerry Lee Lewis, Chuck Berry (the only performer to be welcomed by a standing ovation), and Lord Sutch (once upon a time pirate British dj and candidate for parliament). Alice Cooper followed Lord Sutch, and did their usual show: a seLreplete with pigeons, chickens, brooms and pillow feathers propelled into the audience by a huge fan.

Things started getting really strange, however, when Alice and the boys returned immediately to back up Gene Vincent. Vincent was in good form, and the band didn’t try to steal his show, but the contrast between what he was doing and what they just got through with was just too much. It was something like a man trying to blow up a blimp.

Doug Kershaw, hero Cajun fiddler, followed Vincent, and was poorly received, although his performance knocked out the few people who could key into his peculiar kind of energy. He was followed by Little Richard, whose fourty-five minutes of good-natured proto-rockstar jiving went over well.

Then the Plastic Ono Band. The day before the festival was to be held, John Brauer received a phone call from John Lennon in London.

“We want to play. How much do we get?”

“Well. . . . ah,” Brauer hesitated.

“That’s OK, we’ll come anyway.”

Lennon apparantly settled on Toronto as the place to premiere the band because Pennebaker would be filming there, and the film would mean that much extra exposure for their program. Ironic, in view of what went down between the festival people and the film crew.

The band consisted of John and Yoko, Eric Clapton, Allen White and Klaus Voorman, who is a story in himself. When the Beatles played Hamburg for the first time, they were booked into a greaser club called the Kaiserkeller. At that time Klaus Voorman was working as a commercial artist and living with a chick named Astrid Kichener. One night he wandered into the Kaiserkeller, was blown back by the Beatles’ music, and insisted that Astrid come and check them out. She did, and was in turn blown back by Stu Sutcliffe, who was then playing bass in the band. She left Voorman for Sutcliffe, who died the next year of a brain tumor. Anyway, Voorman later turned up playing for Manfred Mann, and here he is again. Small world, ain’t it?

The band arrived at the airport at around 6:30, were driven directly to Varsity Stadium and sequestered in a small room under the stands, where they held a short press conference during whicl) got too much was asked or answered in the general confusion. At 11:30 they went on stage.

They had never played together before, John informed the crowd, but they had worked out a few old tunes that they all knew on the plane coming over. They broke immediately into Blue Suede Shoes, which they followed with Money, Dizzy Miss Lizzy, and Yer Blues in rapid succession. Then came Cold Turkey, a new Lennon song in the traditional uptempo rock and roll vein (which is to say it sounded a lot like Helter - Skelter), and the song they really came to do. Give Peace a Chance.

For this part of the set, they sounded exactly like what they were: five people who had never played together before, but knew the songs. Except two of them sounded just like Eric Clapton. Yoko, for the most part hiding behind a piece of paper that apparantly was her chart, gave out at appropriate times with screeches that sounded enough like Clapton’s leads to confuse the casual listener. If you had wondered what Yoko does in the Plastic Ono’’ Band, that’s it: she blows screech.

The second half of the set really gave her a chance to stretch out. There were two superfree jams structured around Yoko’s peculiar voice, or axe, if you will. Much of her reserve melted away as she got into the jams, and those who weren’t completely turned off were astounded. Her range is about half that of Yma Sumac’s, but it’s all in the upper registers, and she does things with slides and glissandos that are not quite Eastern, but not Western either.

She did some a capella screaming while John busied himself settingup the amplifiers for the grand finale, five minutes of Blind Beatle feedback. Once he had gotten them arranged fust so, Yoko, him, Clapton, & Co. walked off the stage, while the amps played on. The people sat transfixed, apparantly waiting to see what they’d do next, but what they did was to go back to their room and get ready to leave, because they weren’t seen on stage again. An unidentified person showed up to.turn the amps off, and then it was time for the Doors.

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Morrison came on looking younger than he has in years. He’s put on some weight during the time he’s spent in seclusion following the Miami exposure, and with his hair cut and his beard shaved, baggy light blue denims substituted for the famous leathers, he looked not unlike Ricky Nelson. Earlier that day the group had been escorted from the airport to the stadium by seventy-five members of the Vagabonds M/C (four of the bikes carried Pennebaker cameramen), and it was clear that the expectations of the bikers were not far different from those of the general public; they expected Morrison to get down, get dirty, take off his pants or something. Well, the lizard king fooled them all. His performance was comparatively restrained, kind of like a mild -mannered Mick Jagger. They did all their old favorites, and some of their new not-so-favorites, sensuously enough, but without the extrinsic showiness with which they have come to be associated. As appropriate a way as any to end a Rock and Roll Revival, I suppose; ev’abody’s gettin’ on back these days.

Deday LaRene