Boyz II Men Wins a TKO as TLC Pulls a No-Show

A far more interesting match than the Mike Tyson fight was on tap Saturday night at Irvine Meadows: an R&B; Sophomore Summit bringing together the smooth young professionals of Boyz II Men and the volatile and sassy ladies of TLC.

But the more interesting corner came up empty: TLC wouldn’t perform, the announcement came, because one member was ill. Which member and what ailment were left unspecified, nor was it clear whether TLC would be able to play Sunday’s finale to the weekend engagement.

After the concert, Irvine Meadows officials gave no further details except to say that they had learned only four hours before show time that the trio from Atlanta would miss this night on its touring package with top-billed Boyz II Men and the platinum-selling freshman opening act, Montell Jordan.

Boyz II Men and TLC both hit big with debut albums in 1991-92, then produced even hotter-selling records in 1994, each of them still high on the charts. TLC’s current album, “CrazySexyCool,” has more bite and staying power. After a debut that focused on frisky sexual frankness and declarations of womanly strength and self-respect, TLC incorporates a good deal of the same on its follow-up but expands its reach with the hit “Waterfall” and another track, “Sumthin’ Wicked This Way Comes.” Both are affecting laments steeped in the desperate circumstances of violence-torn, drug-blighted neighborhoods.

Boyz II Men, by contrast, took the conservative approach on “II,” consolidating a platinum niche with a second round of flowery, one-dimensional songs about good times, romance and chivalrously expressed desire.

On Saturday, the foursome from Philadelphia’s 85-minute performance was dominated by vocal embroidery, but the generic if sometimes lovely material didn’t allow any believable, well-drawn scenes from emotional life to show through all that decoration.

As a packaged entertainment, Boyz II Men’s show was impressive for its seamless pacing and lavish effects. The only unscripted moment was Shawn Stockman’s approving announcement that “Mr. Tyson” had scored a first-round knockout. The performance began with the fast-paced “U Know,” then downshifted smoothly over a sequence of four additional tunes to the band’s signature mode: fervent pleading of the most abject sort.

(Never mind that the title of the passage’s culminating weeper was “On Bended Knee”--two of the Boyz went beyond that, finishing the tune virtually prostrate with feigned anguish.)

The merger of catchy material with crafty staging created some memorable bits. The razzle-dazzle action of the energetic, hip-hop accented “Motownphilly” took place against a backdrop of sparkling pyrotechnics, and a lighting montage of starry constellations and glistening rainfall offered suitably lustrous adornment to “Water Runs Dry.”

Shows designed to run like machinery need a big finale, and Boyz II Men achieved one by decorating their career-making hit “End of the Road” with bright, multicolored columns of lights that looked like shining, suspended jellybeans.

Boyz II Men has been faulted for a lack of strong personalities within the ensemble. The members’ identical dress doesn’t help, although it links this new Motown act to an old Motown tradition. Stockman, who has the long-faced, sleepy-eyed look of the Temptations’ David Ruffin (but a voice more akin to creamy Tempts tenor Eddie Kendricks), and Wanya Morris, who has a bit of the O’Jays’ Eddie Levert in him given his peppery stage presence and stocky build, are the two Boyz who appear most likely to follow another old Motown tradition and split the ensemble for solo careers.

But the Motown tradition that this still-young group needs most to follow is the one of artistic growth that yielded such rewarding surprises as Marvin Gaye’s and Stevie Wonder’s assertions of independence in the ‘70s and the Temptations’ leap into psychedelia. The first step is finding songs that are more than excuses for smooth, over-ripe harmonies and spiraling embroidery.

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Montell Jordan may be a platinum-selling rookie, but that rookie status was apparent as his show--performed to canned backing tracks--lurched haphazardly at the start. He and his crew of four dancers appeared disguised in cowled robes, like ancient Druids or Medieval monks. Then they burst from their robes . . . and nothing much happened for a while.

Jordan settled eventually into a song sequence after derailing his smooth, insinuating proclamation of Don Juan-ish talents, “Somethin’ 4 Da Honeyz,” by walking off suddenly for a costume change. Changing shirts or topcoats before each number became the connecting thread in a half-hour set that ranged from the crowd-participation cliches of rap to the melismatic cliches of contemporary pop-R&B.;

In the end, though, it was all just a prelude to the performance’s main point, a lengthy rendition, plus reprise, of Jordan’s career-launching hit, “This Is How We Do It.” The funky party song, a zestful merger of rap rhyming and sung catch phrases, roused the crowd to a happily roaring, sing-along frenzy. It’s a vibrant celebration of Jordan’s home turf in South Central Los Angeles, paying tribute to the ‘hood as a place of good times and life-affirming possibilities, at least on a block-partying day when “all the gang-bangers forget about the drive-by.” If change starts with a vision, Jordan’s rollicking Valentine helps point the way.

But it would have been nice if the contrasting vision of TLC’s mournful “Waterfall” had been available as well.