POP MUSIC REVIEW : Rhythm Stars Use Power Rock for Animal Thrills

Two heavyweight-class musicians such as Stewart Copeland and Stanley Clarke can’t form a band without creating heavy expectations and maybe even making themselves targets for that dreaded tag, supergroup.

But Copeland, lauded as one of rock’s finest drummers since his days with the Police, and Clarke, hailed as a versatile and virtuosic bassist since helping to pioneer the fusion of jazz, rock and funk during the 1970s, came up with a refreshing response to weighty expectations Wednesday night when they brought their new band, Animal Logic, to the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano.

Musicians don’t parade pedigrees, this dynamic rhythm duo seemed to be saying. They just play, and the goal of playing is enjoyment. In front of a delighted, full-house audience, Clarke and Copeland shared the animal enjoyment of hard-driving power rock, tempered by a sense of atmosphere and musical architecture that calls for some brain work too.

Copeland and Clarke had fun together from the very start of the 80-minute set. They squared off face to face, shared grins and took off on a rumbling, rolling charge that conjured up memories of the Who in full flight--better memories, perhaps, than the Who itself will conjure on its summer gravy run.

Later, when a duet instrumental climaxed with a speeding crescendo, the erudite-looking Clarke raised his hands from his bass, threw back his head and enjoyed a deep laugh. These bracing games of rhythm tag and follow the leader were the order of the night.

Guitarist Michael Thompson kept pace with screaming, two-hands-on-the-guitar-neck leads that rose above the standard post-Eddie Van Halen noisemaking. In more restrained passages, Thompson, a session player who recently released an album on Geffen Records with his own Michael Thompson Band, complemented the activist rhythm section with spare harmonics and deft shadings that recalled Andy Summers’ classy sound-colorings with the Police.

While Copeland and Clarke, augmented by Thompson, blew away any nettlesome questions of living up to expectations, a far less heralded vocalist grappled uneasily with a more difficult problem: How does an unknown singer establish an identity while keeping company with renowned instrumentalists?

Deborah Holland, a Copeland discovery, would seem to have an advantage in staking out turf of her own: She writes Animal Logic’s songs. But most of the material--all new, except for a blues encore, “Love Me Like a Man”--was competent but unremarkable rock with anthem-like choruses aimed at the heart of the commercial mainstream (Animal Logic just put out its debut album in Europe, with a U.S. release expected on an as-yet-undetermined label).

One song stood out on first hearing: “Elijah,” in which Holland built from moody passages to impressive keening that conveyed a sense of mystery and longing. But most of the time, for all the heat of her all-out belting and sustained vocal glides, Holland sounded arid, like the Santa Ana winds she sang about in one song.

She may have been concentrating too much on technique, at the expense of unveiling personality and letting feelings fly free. If seasoning brings the singer into better balance with the players, Animal Logic should really make sense.