THE BEAT GOES ON

THE BEAT GOES ON

Kick Out The Jams, Antol Dorati!

DETROIT — Obviously inspired by the incandescent pairing of James Brown and the Grand Ol' Opry several months ago, punk doyenne (and Detroit resident) Patti Smith created her own twisted tandem here in the Motor City May 17th & 18th, when she stood up for the Detroit Symphony Orchestra.

Patti, along with boyfriend and former MC5-er, Fred "Sonic" Smith, did a pair of benefit concerts to raise money for the DSO. The Smith twins, who said they, were moved to help the symphony after watching conductor Antol Dorati lead the DSO through a string of nationally televised Beethoven performances on PBS, reportedly raised more than $6,000 for the classical music cause.

The benefit shows, at the University of Michigan, Dearborn campus, and the Punch &. Judy Theatre in Grosse Pointe, were, no surprise, headlined by the Patti Smith Group and Son-

ic's Rendezvous Band. But Detroit new wave groups such as the Algebra Mothers, the Mutants, and Flirt also .filled out the bill along with a local jazz group and a string quartet.

Cramming six bands into one show made for ridiculously short sets. Especially at the Punch & Judy, where rock 'n' roll turned into a

pumpkin at midnight in order to make way for the cretinous excesses of the Rocky Horror Show's weekly screening.

But Patti did wind up her half hour or so with' a wild and thoroughly woolly rendition of the Who's "My Generation." Too bad the DSO didn't get the joke.

"I asked her about the spitting and kicking," re-

marked Steven Davis, symphony PR staffer, who had heard that pretty Patricia engages in such Rotten behavior, "and she told me she did those things, but only for her manager's benefit. She said she really considered herself a musician, and that she was learning to play the flute."

Carrie Grant

TRAGEDY ROCKS MOTOR CITY!

Twas a sad day indead when Joe Jackson set ample foot In Detroit. Being a true brew connoisseur, he was unable to resist the temptation of sampling some of the local hops. Unfortunately, Boy Howdyi topped his list. Before long, he was hooked. Although cases arrived daily by baglady express, it was insufficient to quell the rising tide of B.H. addiction. Truckloads began hourly deliveries and itill it was not enough. A special utash of lager was sent in by train in a last ditch effort to save the lad, but bias I Clutching the only remaining can of Boy Howdy I in his trembling paws and crying "Look I Cheetah Chrome T', he expired. Don't let this happen to your teenager . .

THE BEAT GOES ON

Cannes In The Can

CANNES, FRANCE -When topless sunbathing became de rigeur along the Cote d'Azur, the annual Cannes film festival finally lost its reputation for unveiling more new flesh than new film. It has since become a celluloid cattle market and the only things that appear to impress are the production budgets for next year's blockbusters.

But this year it's different; Cannes has been aroused from its lethargy. The two main topics of conversation interest have been Marlon Brando's scheduled appearance to plug Apocalypse Now and The Who's positive media blitzkreig which, within hours of the festival's opening, had garnered them ecstatic front page headlines.

Though The Who might have their new movies The Kids Are Alright and Quadrophenia on show, neither is an official UK entry.

From the outset of their career, The Who have always been aware of the advantages of the high profile. Just to make the whole thing more interesting, this weekend The Who are in direct competition with themselves.

After playing to an estimated crowd of 8,000 jubilant people in the ruins of a Roman amphitheatre at nearby Frejus last Saturday, they took up the option and scheduled a Sunday evening replay that coincided with the opening of The Kids Are Alright. If their recent appearance at The Rainbow had closed the door on one era, the first night at Frejus affirmed that it was business as usual..

Hitting the stage four minutes earlier than the expected nine p.m. kick-off, they ran through "Substitute" and "Can't Explain" and then, strutted into "Baba O'Riley", it was evident that first night neryes had vanished. If at The Rainbow drummer Kenny Jones had been content to play safe, at Frejus he stamped his own identity on the band in a manner which would surely have earned

Keith Moon's approval.

The band drove through 19 songs in two hours, seeming to scale ever new heights of excitement. On numbers like "Music Must Change" and the excerpts from Quadrophenia, Johes propelled his new pals to maximum thrust. "Pinball Wizard" saw The Who attaining a mid-point climax that they could have ended on right there and then.

Being able to survey 15 years of The Who in the flesh and on film within 24 hours was a unique opportunity. When in 1964 assistant film producers Kit Lambert and Chris Stamp took over from Peter Meaden as Who managers, they were always more concerned with long term creative—not commercial—credibility. With this in mind they steered them clear of the daft, exploitative youth musicals that were to expedite the demise of the likes of the Dave Clark Five and Herman's Hermits—but they still took pains to preserve The Who on celluloid. As The Kids reveals, they have caught all the stages of the band's development.

As an entity The Kids is one of the most successful and perceptive rock documentaries ever.

/ Director Jeff Stein knows Jiis subject. This is not just another concert - on - film commercial. With careful juxtaposition and editing of film which dates back to The Railway Tavern, The Marquee and The Richmond Jazz and Blues Festival, he manages to capture the ethos that has earned The Who the rarely disputed title of the world's greatest rock 'n' roll band.

An astonishing thing about The Kids Are Alright is that in spanning 15 years into 90 minutes, it makes one appreciate The Who's appeal even more. The Who circa '65 look more contemporary than many of today's frontline figures. It's not even that events have regressed, just that The Who are timeless.

The human qualities of the film render it accessible in a way that no other rock documentary has really suggested, and it never degenerates into a homage to untouchables.

The kids have always been alright.

Roy Carr (courtesy NME)

Lon Causes Rat Melt-down

WASHINGTON, D. C.— Can guitar solos cause permanent neural damage? According to a recent government survey in which laboratory rats were subjected to over 2,000 different guitar solos through miniature headphones, the answer is yes.

Dr. David Ludden of the National Health Institute says in his report that the rats' test results were "almost identical" to those he received from various North American teenagers earlier in the month.

Of the 340 rats and 235 teenagers tested, only one guitar solo caused instantaneous fusion of the spinal cord in all 575 cases: Lou Reed's 1967 extended break on "I Heard Her Call My Name," which Dr. Ludden calls "a killer."

The four runners-up for the most damaging psychotic

guitar solos ever recorded were Keith Richards ("Sympathy For The Devil," 1968), James Williamson ("Shake Appeal," 1973), Robert Fripp ("Baby's On Fire," 1973) and Phil Manzanera ("Third Uncle," 1974).

A rumor that Roger Corman has hired the rats and teenagers as extras to be featured in a low-budget remake of Gimme Shelter starring the Godz has yet to be confirmed.

Jeffrey Morgan

Earmuffs Would Be Better

HOLLYWOOD - As you crawl out of the rain into your local ear pit to catch the latest Black Sabbath tour, you notice big red signs similar to those on cigarette packs everywhere stating: THIS SHOW MAY BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH. Another example of Ozzie's denatured humor?

Nope, this is the real.

flounder. Promoters everywhere may soon follow the> lead of cigar-chomps here who posted just such warnings at a Diana Ross concert. Since ol' Wizpants was never noted for heaping insult upon decibals, it's plain that the promoters are running scared.

Fear of liability is the main hoohaw. "Many people have reported ringing ears and even dizziness a day or two after one of those heavy rock concerts,'' said one biz source. "Can you imagine if they all decided to sue me?"

Not such an unpleasant thought, moneybags, but now even the Federal Govt, (whoever it is this month) wants to get into the act. They've shown an interest in applying noise standards to concert halls similar to the measures which were a total failure in England a few years back. If it failed elsewhere, how can Uncle Schmoe resist?

And after that—affirmative action programs for the hiring of roadies.

Rick Johnson

The Best Seat In Town

LOS ANGELES—Anybody with a living hormone or two can tell you what Stevie Nicks' true appeal is, but if you say so in public, you might get sued.

A local punk outfit, The Rotters, released a'' single callpd "Sit On My Face, Stevie Nicks," which tore up the charts at KROQ and had sold over 2000 copies when

who but Mick Fleetwood himself called up the station, gave them a severe "tongue lashing" (it says so right here, honest) and demanded that they stop playing it. Further verbal lickin's from F. Mac legal busybodies convinced the station to drop the tasty tune from their playlist.

C'mon now, Mick. Was it rea//y that offensiveto you, or is this just another case of sour grapes f

Rick Johnson

5 YEARSAGO Don't Smell Me There!

Paul McCartney took a break from Wings to help little bro Mike McGear slap his two cents' worth onto vinyl, as well as "consult" with torcher Peggy Lee on tunes she's recording. And what of his kicking Henry McCulloch out of Wings? Mighty Macca said he could no longer bear the guitarist's booze breath stinking up their rehearsals. (No comment was made as to whether the Wingmaster's lady had opted for a Gillette Trac II . . .)