The Michigan Daily-Friday, July 14, 1978-Page 5
The time is right for Ryder
By R.J. SMITH
About half-way through his Wednes-
day evening show, Mitch Ryder
delivered a rambling declaration to his
Second Chance audience. "I've been
thinking about this whole thing," Ryder
said, "and I've figured out there's one
thing unique about playing in Detroit
and around Michigan ...
"I've got this feeling, it's not like
being high all the time, it's just this
feeling. Let me try to explain-" But
before he could finish his phrase, the
crowd's noisy exaltations drowned him
0r'nmnt
out. After a few false attempts to com-
plete his thoughts, Ryder simply grin-
ned, bowed his head while cueing his
band, and sped into one of his old hits.
WELL, NO MATTER. We all knew
what he would have said anyway.
There is nothing enterprising in
Ryder's performance, just as there was
nothing enterprising in the records he
released over a decade ago. Mostly he
just sings old rock and roll songs, and
not even his own; his stage presence is
more soul-man's stoicism than rocker's
perpetual motion.
But foster no doubts-my friend, this
is still the real thing. Despite an
atrocious miking job, and conjunction
with, I am told, a harrowing amount of
synthetic stimulation, Ryder and his
group Pacific delivered a rumbling,
rip-roaring show. His collection of rock
and roll and soul oldies, along with a
few originals, was always sensational,
alternately gripping and motivating.
STARTING THE SHOW out with a
cover of "Gimme Shelter," the band
struck up a churchlike atmosphere,
with Ryder down on his knees, face
showing a riveting sort of Teutonic
blank intensity.
As he rose to the microphone stand,
the m.c. urging him forward with
several introductions, the band
ploughed into a no-frills, bare-chested
groove that never faltered throughout
the entire show, even on the calmer
numbers. Pacific plays a fearsome mix
of patented rock and roll frenzy and
modern-day power chording. Perhaps
it was merely the eccentric sound set-
Dnily rnoto by JUMN KNOX
After several years away from the limelight, Mitch Ryder is back in full force. In the first stint of his U.S. comeback, Ryder
performed at Second Chance Wednesday and Thursday nights.
up, but not since i first heard the
Rolling Stones' Get Yer Ya Ya's Out
have I heard a singer forced into such a
life and death confrontation with his
band-and a band not so willing to
aquiesce!-
Somehow, Pacific reminds me a bit of
Elvis Costello's group the Attractions.
They both know the utility of
economy-and they do not have to
sacrifice their fire in lieu of this
economy.
KEVBOARDIST BILLY Cernis, un-
fortunately often inaudible, hammered
out tight solos with theatricality. The
two guitarists were competent, if not
grand soloists. But it was drummer
Wilson Owens who nailed things down,
playing ruthless patterns that bound
any meanderings of the others.
And the singer wasn't bad either.
Howling likea man posessed or merely
hissing the end of a phrase, Ryder
sounded very much like the Ryder of
old. To say that there is crude sexuality
lat the center of his delivery is like
saying there is chocolate in the center
of a tootsie pop.
There is, an old story, perhaps
apocryphal, that Ryder first got into
rock and roll on the basis of his listening
to a Little Richard song back in 1957.
And just as Richard could froth at the
mouth and change "a-womp-bom-a-loo-
mom, ba-lom-bam-boo" from simple
nonsense into a challenge of the most
carnal nature, Ryder can infuse sex in-
to anything he sings. The man does not
insinuate, he joyfully telegraphs it.
IN THE EARLY '60s, Ryder gigged
all around the motor city, playing in
many of the black groups which later
chrystalized into the Motown sound. By
1965, Ryder had begun recording, and
released a slew of nationally acclaimed-
hits with his group, the Detroit Wheels.
Many of these songs, including "Devil
With the Blue dress On" and "Rock and
'Jaws'sequelformulaic but fun
Roll" (the Lou Reed song which Reed
said was better than his own recording)
are pinnacles of '60s rhythm and
blues-white or black.
The early '60s erupted with a volcano
of intense, emotional black musicians.
People like James Brown, Otis Redding
and Wilson Pickett were the antithesis
of the coy, insipid chartbusters of the
early decade. And while this un-
precedented and unrepeated eruption
of talent has been attempted by
numerous whites, off-hand Ryder is the
only one I can think of who not. only
reveled in the form, but outlasted it.
Although it spawned countless "blue-
eyed soul" performers from the
Righteous Brothers to Boz Scaggs and
Hall and Oates, nobody caught the
feeling of intensity that Ryder breathed
in.
THERE IS NOTHING "blue-eyed"
about his singing: even the slow songs
which is the only style most white sould
singers can credibly handle, are
somehow menacing, as if Ryder were
going to jump from the stage any
minute, and land fists first in the crowd.
Wednesday night, when he was in-
troducing the members of his band,
Ryder said, "You can pass over them
now, but you won't be able to in the
future." In a way, he was also speaking
for himself.
While other area people have
marketed their own brands of "raw
power," and Bob Seger even fills
stadiums doing routines he learned
from Ryder, Ryder has been the victim
of bad managing, and his own poor
business sense.
For years now, since the early '70s,
he has been working in a Denver
warehouse. But watching him up on the
stage at Second Chance, running
through songs like "Devil With the Blue
Dress On," "I Used to Love Her," and
"Good Golly Miss Molly." one thought
By OWEN GLEIBERMAN
There's really not a great deal to say about Jaws 2. The
director, Jean Szwarc, obviously took some rather long looks
at the original Jaws, and had the foresight to avoid trying to
improve on Steven Spielberg's heart-stopping machinations.
The new film's lack of daring takes its toll - where the
original was a brilliant compendium of terror and suspense,
Jaws 2 merely floats along with formulaic regularity - but it
rehashes Spielberg's scare tactics with enough
professionalism and verve to compensate for its lack of in-
ventiveness. I
The movie plunges us back into the spectacularly unin-
teresting resort of Amity, Massachusetts, where a missing
water skier and a chewed up killer whale once again
generate mind-numbing political infighting between Roy
Scheider, back once again as the brooding chief of police, and
money-minded Mayor Murray Hamilton. The most notable
addition is a pack of perpetually grinning teenagers (played
by unknowns), who wile away the hours basking in the sun
WHAT'S MISSING is any feeling of building to a climax.
Jaws 2 simply perpetuates itself for two hours until the steam
runs out. Where Jaws' ominous boat chase reduced the con-
flict to suspenseful simplicity - three men battling one
shark, with no props but a fishing boat and the open sea -
Jaws 2 plods along with the regularity of an outboard motor's
hum. Next to Jaws 2, Spielberg's manipulative techniques
begin to look like the height of personal artistry. Irritating
cross-cutting keeps the film from working up any long-range
suspense, and the young protagonists act so much like scared
rabbits that whether they escape the jowls of Bruce 2 never
seems a particularly vital issue.
Still, for all its lack of character, Jaws 2 is not devoid of
thrills, and one must applaud the director for turning his
shredded-wheat script into well-crafted entertainment (not
family entertainment, however - there is so much carnage
that I wanted to make a citizens arrest of a babysitter I saw
there with three kids, on charges of child abuse). Although it
provides a mere flicker of terror beside its predecessor, Jaws
2 avoids the ponderous depths of Exorcist II or The Deep, and