POP MUSIC REVIEW : Repackaged ‘60s Psychedelic Summer Music Is Long, Not So Hot

In the ‘60s, the combustible summers invariably were described as long and hot.

The latest repackaging of ‘60s rock, “The Psychedelic Summer of Love,” was long indeed, but seldom searing as it opened Tuesday night at the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano.

Performances ranged from punchy and proficient (Big Brother & the Holding Company) to nearly parodic (the Seeds) to poignant but pallid (Arthur Lee of Love).

One part of the show was merely superfluous: the Trip, an unadvertised opening act, was a workmanlike ‘60s tribute band composed of younger, unknown musicians with no claim to even a footnote in rock history. They might be fine for frat parties or the dance-club circuit, but all the Los Angeles group’s 50 minutes of rock replicas did was pad a 4-hour program that pushed far too hard on the audience’s patience. By the time the Seeds’ set ended just before midnight (thereby, one imagines, saving the band from turning into psychedelic pumpkins), at least two-thirds of the 150 people who had turned out at the start were gone.

(The same bill--plus the Music Machine and the Strawberry Alarm Clock--appears Friday night at the Universal Amphitheatre).

In the ‘60s, the members of Big Brother & the Holding Company were four long-haired guys who backed up Janis Joplin for a couple of albums at the start of her career.

At the Coach House, they were four guys--three balding and one long-haired--who did a convincing job of playing their old blues-rock repertoire with skill and enthusiasm. Bassist Peter Albin, drummer David Getz, and guitarists Sam Andrew and James Gurley (the one with the hair) also continue to have a striking woman singer fronting their band in Michel Bastian.

She brought a big, rangy voice with a powerful vibrato to straightforward renditions of “Piece of My Heart,” “Ball and Chain” and “Down on Me,” carrying them on the strength of her singing instead of resorting to Joplin’s array of screams, rasps and moans. Bastian may not have been braying out her innards as Joplin did, but she put across the songs with zest and feeling.

Like the other bands on the bill, Big Brother showed no zest for telling ‘60s war stories between songs. Not only did their no-nonsense approach preclude any reminiscing--it precluded even a single mention of Janis Joplin’s name. Some memories would have been nice.

Arthur Lee, the key member of Love, played with a three-man backup band that didn’t include any other members of Love’s ‘60s lineup. Lee’s set was short, awkward and under-rehearsed, and the striking vocal range and flexibility he had years ago has diminished. Still, there were affecting moments when Lee’s signature plaintive tremor kicked in on the lovely ballads “Andmoreagain,” “Alone Again Or” and “Orange Skies.”

Lee, who has seldom surfaced over the past 10 years, needs to put in a lot of work (and hunt up old singing partner Bryan MacLean) if he wants to make a strong go of it as an oldies act. Judging from his comments on stage, his heart may not be in it (“I got a gang of new songs,” he said, while sticking to the ‘60s Love material that the crowd wanted). And after so long away from the spotlight, it’s hard to imagine Lee making a comeback with fresh material.

The Seeds sounded more capable than ever in the original lineup’s first show together in 21 years. Then again, the Seeds were one of the least capable bands ever to win a spot in rock history. The players, especially fuzz-guitar specialist Jan Savage, laid down a serviceably hypnotic blanket of two- and three-chord garage-psychedelia. Singer Sky Sunlight Saxon’s main contribution was his look: pure Charles Manson wildness, with black leather pants, a satiny purple shirt and face muffled in thick hair and beard.

But Saxon’s monotonous, nasal bleat, which inspired hope and confidence in a nation of gawky garage rockers 20-odd years ago (an endearing and important contribution, actually), lacked the bite to cut through the sonic carpet. While the set contained nuggets including “Pushin’ Too Hard,” “Mr. Farmer” and “Can’t Seem To Make You Mine,” the Seeds’ trip eventually turned tedious.