STIRRING THE SOUL

“Shall we do it the old-school way?”

Earth, Wind & Fire’s lead singer, Philip Bailey, asked that rhetorical question Thursday at the Arrowhead Pond of Anaheim before launching the most pyrotechnical vocal moment of a triple bill in which EW&F;, the Isley Brothers and the O’Jays illuminated the virtues of old-school soul singing.

Chief among those was talent--exhibited in the skyrocketing Saturn 5 of a falsetto liftoff Bailey used to cap one of EW&F;’s signature smooth pop-soul ballads, “Reasons.”

The three acts--with a combined recording tenure of 105 years--aren’t orbiting in the charts as regularly as they did in the 1960s, ‘70s or ‘80s. But in a three-hour evening of music, played to a two-thirds-capacity house of about 11,000, they showed their talent isn’t seriously diminished. The other vital old-school trait that emerged was professionalism, the ability--which eludes many a talented hip-hop or R&B; newcomer--to structure a set coherently and deliver it with generally snappy pacing and never-flagging enthusiasm for performance.

It also helps to have a pack of classic songs, which each act in the troika touring as “The Sweet Sounds of Soul” can claim. Each backward-looking set had its slow patches, but fans knew something tasty and enlivening was sure to come around soon.

Earth, Wind & Fire is without Maurice White, who founded the group in Chicago in 1969 and set it on an unvarying course toward idealism, funky good-time vibes and high-flown mystical conceits. White has retired from touring, and his signature kalimba--an African thumb piano--was heard only on a mystical-sounding canned intro and finishes that were the only evidence of the African roots EW&F; sometimes strove to embody.

The three core members still on hand from the ‘70s--Bailey, bassist Verdine White, younger brother of Maurice, and singer-percussionist Ralph Johnson--surrounded themselves with 11 players, singers and dancers who kept up a funky carnival of celebratory sound and movement. Bailey’s voice wasn’t all it used to be, but it still was plenty. Instead of the smooth, shining effortlessness of old, there was a grainy seam in his high-range voice and it took obvious exertion for him to hit his soaring marks.

EW&F; didn’t have the budget for the gaudy extravaganzas that were its custom during its late-1970s commercial peak, but showmanship got its due. Two lovely, athletic female dancers bounded alongside the band members during such funky, fast-paced numbers as “Mighty Mighty” and “Shining Star,” hinting at what it might be like if the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders were allowed to do their gyrations in the middle of the fray while a play was unfolding.

A choreographed bassist-versus-bassist joust between the lanky, kinetic White and a stubby little foe, EW&F;’s musical director Morris Pleasure, was as much fun as the climactic sword fight of an Errol Flynn swashbuckler.

On the smoother, sleeker side, EW&F; had strong moments with the breezy Brazilian waft of “Sun Goddess” and the equally breezy pop tune “September.” Along with the customary hot-funk horn punctuation pioneered by James Brown and Sly & the Family Stone, the three-man EW&F; horns sometimes deployed a mellow, plummy-sweet sound derived from Burt Bacharach. Only on “After the Love Is Gone,” a song comparable to some of Michael MacDonald’s soft-rock hits with the Doobie Brothers, did EW&F; cross the line from sleek and urbane to slick and hollow.

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The Isley Brothers, the longest-running act of the three (the group’s party anthem, “Shout,” hit the charts in 1959), also has had the best luck recently, with “Mission to Please,” a 1996 album that got a boost from young collaborators such as Babyface, R. Kelly and Keith Sweat.

But the band’s cooing boudoir ballad style--in force throughout “Mission”--didn’t serve it well in concert. A hot opening bit, including a vamp on Sly’s “I Want to Take You Higher” refrain, proved a tease as Ronald Isley spent the first half of the set easing along in the role of a Dapper Don of soul, decked out in a canary-yellow suit, matching fedora, spats and gold-handled cane. Four dancers in flesh-baring outfits added visual interest and a touch of Vegas decadence, but at the cost of a sense of spontaneity and true-soul grit.

At the end of “That Lady,” one of the willowy dancers made off with Isley’s cane. It turned out to be Excalibur in reverse; unlike King Arthur, who won his crown after acquiring a magical sword, the Isley Brothers began to rule only after Ronald’s substitute-sword disappeared.

The home stretch was a delightful rock-soul shindig, with romping versions of “It’s Your Thing,” “Twist and Shout” and “Shout,” the songs most crucial to getting the Isleys into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Showing that he could play it smooth without slickness, Isley also cooed plaintively on “Voyage to Atlantis” and captured a zephyr-like lightness on the Isleys’ soul version of the Seals & Croft hit “Summer Breeze.” The ballad sequence found younger brother Ernie Isley pouring on a lava flow of fast, flashy, Hendrix-influenced guitar soloing, a seemingly odd but surprisingly apt rock-leaning counterpart to his brother’s sweet-soul singing.

By the end, dapper Ronald Isley was playing it hot as well, having doffed his suit jacket and loosened his tie to get down with a joyful “Shout.”

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One of the memorable sights during the O’Jays’ opening set was Eddie Levert singing with eyes clenched shut, his full-on intensity causing him to toss back his broad, boxer’s mug of a face as it filled with sweat. And all he was doing at that moment was delivering “shoop-shoop-shoodly-shoo” backing vocals behind longtime partner Walter Williams during “Use Ta Be My Girl,” the zesty set-opener. The O’Jays obviously weren’t lacking in commitment, and with memorable hits dotting their 40-year career, they weren’t hurting for good stuff to apply it to.

Still, the 55-minute set bogged down during a long medley in which some bits went on too long while others got tossed aside just as they were developing into something good. Levert’s bullish baritone raged beyond his control at times and turned into bellowing. On the other hand, he showed a tender balladeer’s touch while singing to one of about two dozen women the O’Jays summoned from the wings to sit on cushions during their medley of slow-and-sweet love songs.

The trio, which also includes junior partner Nathaniel Best on high tenor, produced plenty of highlights, however, including moments that honored their roots in gospel and 1950s doo-wop. The coursing “Love Train” and the gurgling funk classic “For the Love of Money” were among the best songs sung all night. The O’Jays were definitely old-school in their stagecraft, using smooth, unison step-and-skip moves that the Temptations established as the norm for ‘60s-vintage soul groups.

“I have to come out and prove to you every night that the old man’s still got the moves,” Levert boasted before singing “Lovin’ You,” in which he inserted some of the pelvic bumps and grinds popular with R&B;’s new school of leading men. Which of them will be able to boast, in their 40th-anniversary year, that they’ve still got it? And which will have a concert audience of thousands who still care?