Stomping Savoy and Heaping Uriah

This was a basic, staple American rock and roll show. Two English groups. An audience, uniformaly prepared to he blitzed, socializing happily while enduring several long waits. The nonatmosphere of the Sports Arena on a cloudy Sunday night. A core of San Diego's hard rock fans, reacting slowly at first. coming on de rigueur by the end.

Savoy Brown, the main attraction, has suffered diminishing popularity lately. Hellbound Train, their seventh and latest album, is not doing well. Based on the waning interest of rock fans in general, the chances of this group surviving much longer in its present form appear to be marginal. This is the eighth U.S. tour and, of the original group, only lead guitarist Kim Simmonds remains. They were for a time one of the very brightest English rocking blues bands but so many personnel changes and tours may have just about extinguished the light.

Seeing them Sunday night, however, it was impossible to judge. Their equipment was delayed to start with. Since the first act would not even loan them some amps, Savoy had to begin (an hour later) using only tambourines, drums, and organ. These are the moments when veteran rockers like Simmonds must wonder what the hell they are doing in this business — dancing around the stage like mono keys, trying to keep several thousand paid customers loose and themselves together enough to carry on.

The delay may have been to Savoy's benefit, though. By the time the equipment finally did arrive no one was inclined to criticize their performance. The audience had really come to have fun, after all, and they generated their own good time; the quality of the music was secondary at that point. Simmonds carried the show with his accomplished blues guitar solos. Dave Walker's vocals and Paul Raymond's key. board were adequate under the circumstances.

Probably the fairest comment on this Savoy Brown appearance is to say that the group displayed genuine elan in maintaining its poise in a difficult situation.

They were preceded on the bill by Uriah Heep — a band of refugees from the days of acid rock. It may even qualify as the loudest organ-oriented group extant. Besides its capacity to deafen an audience, Heep has a bare-chested lead singer who (flat on his back mind you) can wave a boot in the air more or less in time with his band. If you like inept Jagger imitations without Mick's flash and style, you won't want to miss him when/if Heep comes back to town. Also, 'aspiring guitarists, into the techniques of playing bent over backward or pelvis-to-guitar with a fellow band member, can certainly learn from this group. Otherwise, it's impossible not to observe that Uriah is really a heap.