Oct 9, 2016 5 min read

It promised to be a perfect cap to an autumn seaside vacation.

It promised to be a night of joyous renditions of dozens of classic hits, some of which have long been absent from radio.

It promised to be the proverbial trip down memory lane.

But, if these are precious memories, to paraphrase Rick Nelson, I’d rather drive a truck.

I’m referring to a concert with the Drifters, Coasters and Crystals in Myrtle Beach, S.C., earlier this month, but it was indicative of the many oldies “combo concerts” nationwide.

To be sure, these shows are an enticing lure, an opportunity to see three, four or even five vintage acts on one stage, perhaps for the last time, surrounded by hundreds of people who share the same interests in music. Instead, it’s most often a disillusioning mind excursion to an alternate universe that only vaguely resembles what you recall.

The problems range from promoters unable to assemble groups that appeal to the same audience to audiences unwilling to accept the fact that over half a century, a lot changes, and often not for the better.

On paper, the Myrtle Beach show was a promoter’s dream; all three groups were popular during the same pre-Beatles era and together placed more than 60 hits on the national charts. It was scheduled for October, when the tourism hotspot is primarily a sea of Social Security couples ripe for a musical class reunion that would still have them in bed by 10 o’clock.

Sure enough, the venue was packed with people ready for a 150-minute sing-a-long. It never happened.

Without dissecting the show you (fortunately) will never see, these were the issues:

• The original Crystals quintet was reduced to a trio, and only one was an original member. Her best singing days were behind – way behind – her. The two “new” Crystals had much better voices, but were restricted to tunes by other girl groups, so that the Crystals hits were sung by the performer with the least desirable voice.

• It was never clear if any of the Coasters was an original. While they regurgitated the hits in decent fashion, the bass player – the key element to many of their songs – failed to elicit the playfulness of the recordings.

• Clyde McPhatter’s Drifters exhibited all that’s wrong with oldies circuit shows. The new group – led by Ron McPhatter, the son of the late Clyde McPhatter and Ruth Brown – made the show his own, and not in a good way. His white outfit (the other Drifters wore dark suits) made it clear this was a solo act with backup singers. McPhatter the younger can certainly sing, but he chose to avoid most of the group’s hits. He opened with an odd choice, George Benson’s jazz version of the Drifters “On Broadway” which clearly agitated the crowd, and he closed with two solo hits by former Drifter Ben E. King. In between, he played a cruel game with the audience, betting he could sing a Drifters song they wouldn’t recognize – an excuse to sing just a few bars of the biggest hits. The Drifters did perform a full version of “This Magic Moment,” but any magic here dissipated a few minutes into the set.

Here’s the debatable dilemma for music fans:

• Those who insist on original performers must either choose not to attend because the original singers are deceased or hear 75-year-old singers trying unsuccessfully to recapture their youth.

• Those who are more interested in faithful renditions of a group’s songs – no matter who sings them – are very often disappointed by performers who try to contemporize tunes or opt not to perform many of the songs at all.

• The oldies circuit is a serious case of buyer beware. While most promoters take pains to sign the original act, there are often offshoots or even fake acts on the road. Sometimes, two or more acts with the same name are restricted by law to various regions. Sometimes, offspring of original performers take over, relying on name recognition over talent. And, every once in a while, there’s a legitimate reason the original performers don’t sound like the original recording. They didn’t record it. (Back in the day, studio singers would sometimes legally substitute for the hit group).

• Because the road grows weary, and the same old songs even more tiring for performers, they often insert hits by other artists hoping the audience will still think it’s one of their hits.

• And, finally, the regional radio issue so prominent in the ’50s and early ’60s negatively affects the set list. It sometimes turns out the hits of yesteryear may only have been hits in your neck of the woods, and they don’t have a chance of being performed on stage.

It also turns out that Rick Nelson was right. If I’m looking for memories, I’d rather drive a truck. Providing, of course, it has a good CD player.