That's the "Teenage Awards Music International" to you and me -- and without a doubt one of the best, grooviest, most utterly enjoyable and righteously raucous, hell, even historically relevant, mid-60's rock concert films to ever romp its way onto celluloid, a dazzling and eclectic mix of rowdy rock'n'roll bands and class act rhythm and blues groups that was performed live at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium and recorded on videotape and subsequently transferred to film for posterity's sake by American International Pictures.
Puckish surf-rock jokers Jan and Dean, who do "The Little Old Lady from Pasadena" and "Sidewalk Surfin'," are the goof-ball hosts of this non-stop musical extravaganza. Chuck Berry gets things off to a rip-roaring start, working his spindly wibble-wobble legs overtime as he tears the place up with roll-over-deadly renditions of "Johnny B. Goode," "Sweet Little Sixteen," and "Nadine." British Invasion band Gerry and the Peacemakers keep everything a hopping by first joining Chuck on "Maybellene,' then holding their own with such winners as the gentle, lulling "Don't Let the Sun Catch You Crying" and the life-affirming "It's Gonna Be Alright." Lovely feminist-rock pioneer Lesley Gore mesmerizes the audience with strong, commanding performances of the "sisters stand up to your man and don't take any guff" anthems "You Don't Own Me," "It's My Party," and "Judy's Turn to Cry." Smokey Robinson and the Miracles deliver a tasty, tuneful truckload of spot-on keening tenor harmonies, highlighted by the gorgeous "You Really Got a Hold on Me" and a crazed, chest-thumping, abdomen-itching cover of the wiggy novelty dance number "Mickey's Monkey." Marvin Gaye, looking mighty spiffy in an immaculate white tux, cuts a suave figure as he belts out "Hitchhike," "Pride and Joy," and "Can I Get a Witness." Representing flavor-of-the-month generic pop slop, the hopelessly dweeby Billy J. Kramer and the Dakotas nerd it up something hysterical with several remarkably doofy songs. Diana Ross and the Supremes, sexy as all hell in clinging dresses and enormous heavily lacquered hairdos, strut their sultry stuff with a scorching medley which includes the luscious "Baby Love." Token grunged-up garage rock outfit the Barbarians do the sinewy caveman stomper "Hey Little Bird," with their famous one-armed drummer Moulty (he's got a hook hand!) gleefully trashing his kit during a gloriously protracted solo. James Brown rides the "Night Train" straight to Funkytown and back with his bring the house down manic antics, complete with wild dancing feet, hips and pelvis a swinging rotation action, the groin pulling splits, crashing onto the floor and getting up for more -- we're talking some seriously smoking theatrics, people. The Rolling Stones, surly, scruffy, arrogant and punk as all get out, burn up the place with lots of sizzling lowdown dirty blues covers, with their blazing rendition of Irma Thomas' "Time Is On My Side" rating as the definite stand-out. The Beach Boys, clad in white striped shirts, end things on a suitably stirring note, doing 100% on the money honey performances of the timeless classics "Surfin' U.S.A.," "Surfer Girl" and "I Get Around."
Steve Binder's razor-sharp direction captures the concert's merry, upbeat, bubbly atmosphere with consummate unwavering acuity and expertise. The really into it audience never cease to shriek their approval. A sense of both wide-eyed innocence and carefree, frivolous, oftentimes even downright explosive gaiety pervades throughout. The excellent black and white cinematography makes terrific use of stately crane shots, slow, graceful dissolves and snazzy super-impositions. Phil Spector music arranger Jack Nitzsche served as music director. Terri Garr and Toni Basil are among the nice-looking go-go gals who energetically frug their way across the stage. A marvelously vibrant, joyous and jubilant time capsule of the swell 60's rock scene.
Puckish surf-rock jokers Jan and Dean, who do "The Little Old Lady from Pasadena" and "Sidewalk Surfin'," are the goof-ball hosts of this non-stop musical extravaganza. Chuck Berry gets things off to a rip-roaring start, working his spindly wibble-wobble legs overtime as he tears the place up with roll-over-deadly renditions of "Johnny B. Goode," "Sweet Little Sixteen," and "Nadine." British Invasion band Gerry and the Peacemakers keep everything a hopping by first joining Chuck on "Maybellene,' then holding their own with such winners as the gentle, lulling "Don't Let the Sun Catch You Crying" and the life-affirming "It's Gonna Be Alright." Lovely feminist-rock pioneer Lesley Gore mesmerizes the audience with strong, commanding performances of the "sisters stand up to your man and don't take any guff" anthems "You Don't Own Me," "It's My Party," and "Judy's Turn to Cry." Smokey Robinson and the Miracles deliver a tasty, tuneful truckload of spot-on keening tenor harmonies, highlighted by the gorgeous "You Really Got a Hold on Me" and a crazed, chest-thumping, abdomen-itching cover of the wiggy novelty dance number "Mickey's Monkey." Marvin Gaye, looking mighty spiffy in an immaculate white tux, cuts a suave figure as he belts out "Hitchhike," "Pride and Joy," and "Can I Get a Witness." Representing flavor-of-the-month generic pop slop, the hopelessly dweeby Billy J. Kramer and the Dakotas nerd it up something hysterical with several remarkably doofy songs. Diana Ross and the Supremes, sexy as all hell in clinging dresses and enormous heavily lacquered hairdos, strut their sultry stuff with a scorching medley which includes the luscious "Baby Love." Token grunged-up garage rock outfit the Barbarians do the sinewy caveman stomper "Hey Little Bird," with their famous one-armed drummer Moulty (he's got a hook hand!) gleefully trashing his kit during a gloriously protracted solo. James Brown rides the "Night Train" straight to Funkytown and back with his bring the house down manic antics, complete with wild dancing feet, hips and pelvis a swinging rotation action, the groin pulling splits, crashing onto the floor and getting up for more -- we're talking some seriously smoking theatrics, people. The Rolling Stones, surly, scruffy, arrogant and punk as all get out, burn up the place with lots of sizzling lowdown dirty blues covers, with their blazing rendition of Irma Thomas' "Time Is On My Side" rating as the definite stand-out. The Beach Boys, clad in white striped shirts, end things on a suitably stirring note, doing 100% on the money honey performances of the timeless classics "Surfin' U.S.A.," "Surfer Girl" and "I Get Around."
Steve Binder's razor-sharp direction captures the concert's merry, upbeat, bubbly atmosphere with consummate unwavering acuity and expertise. The really into it audience never cease to shriek their approval. A sense of both wide-eyed innocence and carefree, frivolous, oftentimes even downright explosive gaiety pervades throughout. The excellent black and white cinematography makes terrific use of stately crane shots, slow, graceful dissolves and snazzy super-impositions. Phil Spector music arranger Jack Nitzsche served as music director. Terri Garr and Toni Basil are among the nice-looking go-go gals who energetically frug their way across the stage. A marvelously vibrant, joyous and jubilant time capsule of the swell 60's rock scene.