Maze, LaBelle Barely Steal Show from the Crowd

The marathon R&B; extravaganza at the Rose Bowl, which stretched from the heat of the late afternoon into the chill of the night Saturday, was a disappointment--unless you’re partial to brawls and muddy sound.

The 11th annual Budweiser Superfest, a touring concert package sponsored by the beer company, was marred by several fistfights--prompting some security guards to blame the behavior on drunkenness and to complain about the sale of beer at such day-long, summer events.

At times, the slugfests got a bigger response from the estimated 40,000 people on hand than some of the day’s many artists.

Billed as something for everyone, the Pasadena show featured ballads (Regina Belle and Patti LaBelle), rap (Big Daddy Kane), funk (the Gap Band), up-to-the-minute, youth-oriented R&B; (Bell Biv DeVoe plus Tony Toni Tone and After 7) and the R&B; grooves of Maze featuring Frankie Beverly.

As with most stadium shows, the sound was mostly awful, with the pounding of the rhythm section frequently drowning out the vocals.

By far the best performer on the bill was Maze, a veteran band skilled in the art of playing stadiums. Maze’s style is to set a loping R&B; groove and lure the audience into it. The vocals on a song such as “Joy and Pain” aren’t as important as Maze’s grooves, which swept through the stadium like wildfire, setting toes tapping and hands clapping. It’s the kind of music that transcended the sound problems.

As usual with these multi-act stadium shows, the audience took its time getting involved in what was happening on stage. It’s as if the crowd, knowing they are in for a long haul, conserve their energy during the opening acts.

But the audience woke up in a hurry when Patti LaBelle--affectionately known as Mighty Mouth--went into action around 6. Her melodramatic, no-holds-barred gospel style is made to order for a stadium. Certainly, fans in the last row had no trouble relating to fiery LaBelle, who can project as well as anyone in pop.

LaBelle doesn’t sing a song--she fractures it. She’ll take a number such as “Over the Rainbow,” discard the melody and use the song’s bare bones as a base from which to plunge into her histrionics. She invariably stumbles into such excess that you wish that she’d tone down the melodrama, but there are always moments of vocal brilliance--moments you marvel at because you know so few singers are capable of such feats. But all that melodrama is tiring. At a certain point you can hardly wait for her set to end.

Bell Biv DeVoe’s set was only about 20 minutes--and still seemed too long. The group’s recent album, “Poison,” is a studio triumph, but the trio--despite years of touring with New Edition--still has a lot to learn as performers. Before jumping into the stadium circuit, they should be working clubs and small theaters, developing a stage persona and confidence.

Near the end of the show, rapper Big Daddy Kane did about 20 minutes of unconvincing boasting, backed by dancers who struggled through some crudely choreographed numbers. Despite rap’s popularity these days, Kane wasn’t able to establish any significant contact with the crowd.

The Gap Band, with its flimsy funk, closed the show. This once-classy group has degenerated to the point where it’s merely above a lounge act. In the old days, the Gap Band played a brand of urgent, robust funk that was almost irresistible. But somewhere along the line, the group’s funk lost its crackle and pop.

The Gap Band was shouting at the audience to get up and dance but more people were getting up and leaving.