MUSIC REVIEW : Kansas Proves It Can Still Pack Them In With ‘70s-Style Rock

Like so many of their progressive-rock contemporaries of the ‘70s, the band Kansas tried to find a comfort zone between boogie and Bach, placing a little more emphasis on the former than did their British models--Yes, Genesis and Gentle Giant.

Indeed, Kansas’ rockier foundation shielded it from some of the critical fire leveled at the prog-rock sub-genre for the alleged pretentiousness of its complex structures and classical-jazz-rock machinations.

Fifteen years after prog-rock’s swan song, there exists a large underground of recalcitrant proggers who keep a lamp lit for the form’s spirit of musical adventure. On Tuesday night, nearly a thousand of them showed up when the latest incarnation of Kansas played two shows at the 550-capacity J.J.’s Hot Rock club in South Bay.

For the most part, the current Kansas lineup does not lack for either skill or authenticity. Although the group’s main songwriter, Kerry Livgren, departed long ago to devote his time and talents to born-again Christendom, lead vocalist Steve Walsh, drummer Phil Ehart and guitarist Rich Williams remain from the original sextet, whose biggest hits were the late-’70s radio staples, “Carry On Wayward Son,” “Point of Know Return” and “Dust in the Wind.”

In playing ability, keyboardist Greg Robert and violinist David Ragsdale are capable replacements for Livgren and Robby Steinhardt, respectively. Bassist Billy Greer and well- known ex-Dregs guitar hero Steve Morse remain from the lineup that recorded the unheralded 1988 album, “In the Spirit of Things.”

Realistically, with melodist Livgren unavailable to the band, Kansas’ future lies in plundering its past, which it did to fine effect Tuesday night before an enthusiastic early-show crowd of 400. A feverish reading of “Point of Know Return” pushed the set into overdrive, and even a crowd-pleasing rendition of the maudlin ballad, “Dust in the Wind,” with Greer and Williams on acoustic guitars, couldn’t kill the momentum that lasted through the single encore an hour later.

As the star “ringer,” Morse--some of whose own fans made their presence felt, or at least seen, with T-shirts bearing his likeness--played an unusually subservient role. His few solos, were, as one might expect, textbook examples of fusion-ish virtuosity, and an improvisational duel pitting Morse against Ragsdale (a much more proficient violinist than Steinhardt) simultaneously showcased the technical elitism of prog-rock and Kansas’ rock ‘n’ roll-jam palliative for it.

Otherwise, the band’s performance emphasized an accurate re- creation of the Kansas catalogue, and not individual talents. Still, inasmuch as Walsh’s high, fibrous voice was the group’s signature, he proved the key component. Walsh has lost nothing off his fastball, and his arcing, impassioned vocals on “Miracles Out of Nowhere,” the baroque-flavored “The Wall” (both from 1977’s double-platinum “Leftoverture” album) and, especially, on 1975’s 10-minute suite, “Song for America,” reclaimed their piquant charms from the rock dustbin.

If Walsh had a failing, it was his inability to gracefully transform his grandiose, arena-oriented showmanship into something suitable for a middle-size club. At their most over-the-top, the original Kansas suggested an unfortunate marriage of Foreigner’s hook-hammering and Styx’s junior-high melodrama. In Tuesday’s concert, Walsh personified those excesses with grasping, theatrical gestures and spread-legged stances better left to low-budget, Shakespeare-in-the-park presentations.

Aside from that irritation, however, the new Kansas comported itself well. The musicians are sufficiently talented, and, apparently, motivated to inject life into even so overplayed a chestnut as “Carry On Wayward Son,” an abbreviated version of which earned them a standing ovation late in the program.

More significantly, the overriding sense of sincerity that permeated the band’s performance compensated for the fact that, to ‘90s ears, the quasi-classical conceits in the Kansas repertoire sound less pretentious than, simply, dated.