POP REVIEW : Gang Loses Some Kool Sans Taylor

Teamwork was the word as Kool & the Gang came to the Celebrity Theatre in Anaheim on Friday, playing only its third show since the departure of the group’s classy--and bankable--lead singer, J.T. Taylor.

But the expanded, 10-man Gang (11 if you count the extra bassist who thumped at the back of the revolving stage on some numbers) is still a team that hasn’t gelled. The band often looked and sounded as if it was trying too hard, attempting to make up in sheer ensemble energy for the lack of an anchoring member who could serve as the hub for the hubbub all over the stage. Kool & the Gang provided a lively extravaganza built on proven hits and strong musicianship, but it was an extravaganza without much shape or direction.

In place of Taylor, who fronted the group on 16 Top 40 singles before going solo early this year, Kool & the Gang has recruited three new lead singers. Skip Martin and Gary Brown divided the bulk of a hits-only song list drawn largely from the Taylor era. Martin was the more comfortable of the two on stage and had the sharper, more flexible voice, but both were talented singers and athletic performers. The third new singer, Odeen Mays, primarily played keyboards. But on the two ballads he sang, Mays emerged as the most distinctive voice and the closest thing the Gang has to a spotlight-commanding figure.

Mays won a big ovation for “Special Way” and stopped the show on his second number, “Too Hot.” Both songs showcased a clear, note-bending, chance-taking vocal style in the best tradition of showy R&B; balladry. Mays, whose lanky build and cue-ball haircut made him resemble a pro basketball player more than a would-be leading man of soul, succeeded despite ill-conceived staging.

On “Special Way,” he started singing as frontman, then retreated behind his rack of keyboards midway through the song. “Too Hot” was sung entirely from behind the same barrier. Mays came across on the force of his vocal power, but he should have been out front and center. Of course, the whole point of Kool & the Gang’s new tour, which came to the Celebrity Theatre on Friday and Saturday after opening Thursday in Bakersfield, is to find out by trial and error how the new lineup should be presented.

At least Mays was presented, introduced early in the show as one of the new members. Brown and Martin never received a formal introduction--a big mistake for a reshuffled group that needs to get all questions of identity settled up front.

Proof of that came in a comically awkward moment. Martin, waxing romantic during “Cherish,” leaned over for a snuggle with a young woman near the stage. “J.T.!” she screamed. Martin handled the case of mistaken identity graciously, chuckling, then finishing the romantic interlude. Martin and Brown both overdid the stageside contact, shaking so many hands you’d have thought they were running for something.

Actually, running is something Brown did a lot. A compact man with an assortment of leaps, twirls and darting dance steps in his repertoire, he seldom stopped skittering about the stage apron while he sang. All that motion, uncoordinated with what he was singing, was distracting.

Brown had his own comically awkward moment after a fan came forward to give him a long-stemmed flower. He darted back across the stage with it, holding it high in triumph. But the suddenness of Brown’s spin-and-thrust move had shaken the bloom from its stem. Until he realized what had happened, Brown held up that naked green stalk as if it was the Olympic torch.

For now, chalk up Kool’s problems as part of the debugging process for the band’s rewritten program. The songs, all familiar hits, were crowd-pleasers, and the playing often was hot. The audience was well short of capacity--maybe because of Taylor’s departure, and maybe because fans would rather wait until Kool & the Gang comes up with a new record. Whether the group can continue as a big attraction depends on what happens in the recording studio and whether the new songs will enable the singers to forge strong identities for themselves.

Brenda, the Santa Ana-based opening act, could use some work in the identity-forging department. A dance-pop singer in 1988 cannnot come on stage in skimpy lingerie and blonde hair, with two male dancers in tow, and expect to be taken as anything but a Madonna clone. Also, 10 points off for aping the most depersonalizing of all pop-star habits, calling a crowd by a place name--in this case, “Anaheim.”

Playing her first major gig, Brenda and her nine-member ensemble of musicians, backup singers and dancers did best with a couple of hard-edged numbers, “Paralyzed” and “It’s an Emotion,” where the only aim was to get into the groove.

Other songs were undermined by poor staging. Why drag a man out of the audience, just to ignore him for most of the number? Better yet, why bother with a time-killing cliche like that if you’re a new act with only 30 minutes to make an impression?

With a husky-toned voice that was serviceable but occasionally balky--and far from knock-’em-dead great--Brenda needed to be more savvy about her presentation.