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POP MUSIC REVIEW : Hawaii’s Talented Society Shows Vegas Influences

SPECIAL TO THE TIMES

It is a standard of true art, is it not, that a work or performance can shake the values of its audience and even compel one to reassess his life? Well, there’s nothing quite like sitting with a note pad watching a bunch of guys dressed up like bug-eyed frogs, cross-dressing mermaids and assorted chum to make one think: “I’m 36 years old, and this is my job ?”

To be dressed as a bug-eyed frog raises problems enough when it comes time to carve your epitaph, but to have one’s sustenance depend on writing some cogent analysis about guys costumed as bug-eyed frogs--well, just try justifying your life with that one.

Never say we Times writers don’t go where other papers fear to tread. Which, in this event, was to a Society of Seven show Saturday at the Celebrity Theatre.

The S.O.S., for the uninformed, has been Hawaii’s hottest show band for the last couple of decades, forging a bridge between the islands and Las Vegas. Without records, radio, press or TV coverage, the septet has developed quite an Orange County following (for years its tour stops included Santa Ana’s Kono Hawaii restaurant-nightclub), and it sold out one performance at the 2,500-seat Celebrity on Saturday and came close to filling a second show.

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The group has several things going for it, the chief one being a bounty of musical talent. On a medley of two vaguely Hawaiian tunes, the members blended in some of the most lush harmony this side of the Four Freshmen. All their solo singers have fine voices, with Albert Maligmat (also a solid drummer) being a stellar standout. While too overwrought to convey much feeling, his “Amazing Grace” was an astounding vocal tour de force, winding from nearly unbelievable falsetto heights to a powerful bass. Nearly as impressive on that number was Wayne Wakai’s alto sax accompaniment, which echoed Maligmat’s vocal turns.

It is some testament of the group’s musical prowess that its audience for the early show included such accomplished musicians as the Righteous Brothers’ Bobby Hatfield, jazz-funk guitarist Phil Upchurch and drummer Stix Hooper.

Before hopping to the debit side of the ledger, it should be noted that the S.O.S. delivered a solid two-hour show. And even though the songs and shticks had clearly been delivered countless times before, it was done without the condescending good-enough-for-the-rubes attitude many Vegas acts effect. Heck, band members even invited the audience to join them at their hotel lounge after the shows.

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Furthermore, O.C.-based promoter Gerald Ishibashi’s Stonebridge Productions ran one of most professional, smooth and well-executed shows the Celebrity has seen, despite a delay caused when one audience member apparently had a heart attack before the show.

But the overall effect of S.O.S.’s variety show seemed a bit like a whirlwind tour of Honolulu fast-food restaurants. While the group put an appreciable effort into showing its guests a good time, one kept wishing for a little home cooking.

In an extreme sense, the show was a model for the sad assimilation and commercialization Hawaii has gone through in the past several decades. There was almost nothing distinctly Hawaiian to the show, or anything distinctly from any locale, except for Vegas’ generic glitz. (For a breath of the old islands, by the way, it’s well worth tracking down any of the late Gabby Pahinui’s recordings.)

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The S.O.S. members shouldn’t be bound to play Hawaiian styles simply because that’s where they’re from. But it wouldn’t be a bad start to play music that was rooted in something, instead of Saturday’s hodgepodge.

In the course of the show there were tributes to New York, the Beatles, the troops, surf music and mothers; mini-productions of “The Little Mermaid” (hence the frog, or maybe it was a lobster; it’s hard to tell when they don’t come with melted butter) and “Phantom of the Opera”; as well as impersonations of Ray Charles, Roy Orbison, Buddy Holly, Stevie Wonder, Joe Cocker, Willie Nelson, Michael Jackson, Dean Martin, Smokey Robinson, James Brown, Louis Armstrong, and, as if anyone would notice if they got them wrong, Paul Anka and Engelbert Humperdinck.

The overall problem with the show was most apparent in their 11-snippet Beatles medley: Their performances were adept but spiritless, with the lack of genuine excitement and engagement glaringly obvious in contrast to the recordings they were mimicking.

That’s their problem all right--if you take them seriously, which one is rather compelled to do with note pad in hand. Those not so encumbered gave the Seven a couple of standing ovations.

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