‘Chicago’ blows a wondrous brassy wind for 25,000 at SPAC

by C. Robie Booth, The Knickerbocker News, August 19, 1975

It was a melee outside and pandemonium inside last night at Saratoga Performing Arts Center, where 25,000 came to see and hear Chicago.

The outside violence (see story below), fortunately, didn’t transmit to those who came to listen to music. And good music it was.

The visual impact was also impressive. Spotlights picked out soloists in a rainbow of colors while the neon superstructure, known in some circles as the backboard, flashed from gold to white to blue to pink and purple.

One of the largest crowds ever (The Who has the record with 33,000) gave the octet constant adulation. It reached a pitch after the last regularly scheduled number. It was the loudest demand for an encore I have ever heard. Akin to the Nurenberg Sportspalast without the evil. Chicago responded with two fine encores, after which the lively crowd, bulging with lawn perchers who jammed the aisles despite attendants trying to halt the surge, dispersed calmly.

Among highlights were “Harry Truman,” a fine trumpet solo on his own new composition by Lee Loughnane, “Time Goes On” with a beautiful lower register piano solo by Robert Lamm, an alluring flute solo by Walter Parazaider and vocals by Peter Cetera, who was wearing a Rangers hockey shirt.

“You Are My Inspiration” had a good Parazaider solo on soprano sax and a thumping exchange between drummer Danny Seraphine, one of the best in that nether region between jazz and rock, and Laudir de Oliveria on dual conga drums.

But a truly exciting battle of drum and percussion came just before the end. It was furious, and quite good musically.

“Only the Beginning” was stunning. It was followed by what was described as “mind, consciousness expanding.” It was a collection of bells, tinkles, percussion, flute, and more sound effects. It was greatly applauded and whistled.

“Saturday in the Park” also provoked frenzied cheering.

The brass downsteps under the melody, an endearing Chicago trademark, were anchored all night by trombonist James Pankow.

At times the synthesizing was too much. Often, the sound was, too. With Lamm vocalizing on “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?” and everything seemingly on top volume, one wondered how Terry Kath in his bright Peter Pan suit kept from getting blasted off the stage (he was almost in front of a carload of speakers). The sound is so big, you get minimal fidelity and often can’t understand the words.

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