Beach Boys bring back the sound of surfing at SPAC

by James J. Hohman, The Knickerbocker News, August 28, 1975

Use your imagination for a minute and picture, if you will, 30,000 persons in the form of a giant clock. Being wound tighter and tighter and…

Well, this description—at best—is an understatement of the tension, enthusiasm and general all-around hysteria that greeted Wednesday night a half-dozen musicians calling themselves the Beach Boys.

The crowd, one of the largest ever to assemble at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center, was a mixture of young and old, blue jeans and pant suits, singles and congregations.

But they all had one thing in common: They braved five-mile-long traffic jams, thundering throngs and an hour delay to hear the Beach Boys. And no one left SPAC disappointed.

The stage was lined with 20 huge sound amplifiers, dozens of lights perched atop a lattice-work of steel and paraphernalia designed to accommodate the beachcomer with selective taste.

Tons of equipment—musical and electronic—filled the performers’ area of the stage, appearing to leave no room for the showmen soon to come.

Then, after a short concert by “the last of the great acid rock bands from Los Angeles,” Ambrosia, the audience was ready—ticking as it neared the impending explosion of sound.

The 30,000 at Saratoga Wednesday night was definitely not an Ambrosia audience. But it waited politely, still ticking…

Ambrosia finished its set shortly after 8 p.m., about 45 minutes after stepping onto the stage.

Engineers tinkered with the amps and wiring.

Someone threw a Frisbee; someone returned the toss. The game was on until nearly 9 p.m.

The Beach Boys were late for their own concert, and no one could have cared less. The timing was perfect from there on in. You may even wonder if the delay was contrived.

“Sloop John B.” and its performers were greeted with a standing ovation, almost before a note was issued from any of the guitars or electric organs.

It happened that way through the whole night. “Help Me Rhonda,” “In My Room,” and others started the clock ticking with new enthusiasm.

Much of the music Wednesday night was old, but good and probably getting better. The vocal harmony of the Beach Boys was evident throughout, and the memory-stirring rhythm grasped the thousands and refused to let go.

Mike Love, the turban-topped master of ceremonies, kept the crowd light with his “dramatic interpretations” and serious introductions. Can you think of “Little Deuce Coupe” as replete with sophistication and substance?

Well, if Love could, then you know for sure he’s crazy.

The crowd was on its feet more often than not, cheering and dancing to tunes which millions of college students since the mid-’60s have worshiped.

When a concert is power-packed all the way through, it’s hard to locate the breaking point of an audience. But it is not hard to say that the mainspring did snap.

Could it have been during “California Girls,” or “Wouldn’t It Be Nice?” or “Get Around” or “Good Vibrations” or the encore: “Barbara Ann,” “Surfin’ USA” and “Fun, Fun, Fun”?

It had to be the combination and the timing of each song. The Beach Boys did not hurry into one tune right after another. There was just enough time in between each one to speculate which would be next.

They must have hit them all in a short 75 minutes.

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