Copyright 1991 The Times Mirror Company   
Los Angeles Times
February 25, 1991, Monday, Orange County Edition
SECTION: Calendar; Part F; Page 2; Column 2; Entertainment Desk
LENGTH: 782 words
HEADLINE: POP MUSIC REVIEW;
JELLYFISH REVIVES PURE-POP '70S WITH SNAPPY TUNES
BYLINE: By MIKE BOEHM, TIMES STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO
BODY:

     Even though this is shaping up as an astonishingly turbulent
and unpredictable decade, one thing about the '90s is certain: From
now until the millennium, every high school and college class that
graduated in the '70s will have to hire a band for its 20t
h reunion.
     That could be good news for Jellyfish. The San Francisco band,
which played a sold-out show Friday night at the Coach House, is
off to a promising commercial start with "Bellybutton," its catchy
pop-fest of a debut album. But if Jellyfish's road to the b
ig time should veer into a cul-de-sac, the band will never lack for
work as long as nostalgic sons and daughters of the '70s are
looking for a good party band.
     Jellyfish's 80-minute set included a bunch of snappy
run-throughs of nuggets from the post-Beatles, pure-pop '70s. Songs
like Todd Rundgren's "Couldn't I Just Tell You," Badfinger's "No
Matter What," Paul McCartney's "Jet" and Fleetwood Mac's "Go Your
Ow
n Way" turned up in faithful, boisterous versions that made up in
spirit what they might have sometimes lacked in precise execution.
It was a reminder that the pure-pop '70s were a fairly happy and
fruitful time. Far happier, anyway, than the disco-fied '
70s, the corporatized '70s, and the metalloid '70s -- all of which
seem to have had a lot more influence on subsequent music than the
decade's better side.
     Jellyfish rendered its covers, plus a dozen similarly catchy
originals, with a jaunty sense of fun that would be guaranteed to
raise a smile from any reunion class. Oversized fake flowers and
vines decorated amplifiers and microphone stands. Lead singer 
Andy Sturmer's stand-up drum kit was wired with Christmas lights,
and the band's thrift-shop bouquet wardrobe may as well have been
plugged in too. A bubble machine churned out clear capsules of
instant childhood through much of the show.
     On record, the songwriting team of Sturmer and
keyboards/guitar player Roger Manning displays an incisive wit and
intelligence. That makes Jellyfish a good deal more than a
nostalgia band, although nobody could claim bracing originality for
these compuls
ive Beatles-song bandits. In concert, some of the grace notes and
meanings were lost in an often muddy mix. But the band's melodic
appeal came through, along with its sense of fun.
     Jellyfish showed good timing by playing its most serious
ballad, "The Man I Used to Be," as an encore number standing apart
from more lighthearted fare. Sturmer came across with frayed
urgency as he played the protagonist: a dead sailor who laments
from 
beyond the grave as his son prepares to go to fight in the next
war. Sturmer led into the tune with a fine, pithy introduction: 
"Unfortunately, this song means more than when we wrote it. Let's
hope it becomes obsolete someday."
     While his nasal singing was no match for such Jellyfish heroes
as McCartney or Badfinger's Peter Hamm, Sturmer was tuneful and
enthusiastic enough -- especially with the excellent harmony
support he got from the three other members (regular guitarist Jas
on Falkner missed the show with a dislocated shoulder, but his
replacement, Niko Wenner, stepped in capably).
     Ensemble harmony singing is an all but dead art among young
rock bands who have grown up on too much Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith
and groove-obsession, not to mention today's easy-does-it,
paint-by-digital-numbers method of mounting vast, unspeakably phony
 choral backups via electronic enhancement. As if to kick some sand
in all their faces, Jellyfish broke into a showy a cappella segment
that started with Beach Boys' glee-club "oohs" and ended in
Beatles-style breathy "aahs."
     At this point Jellyfish is no live match for Crowded House or
Squeeze, far more experienced bands that carry on the tradition of
Beatles-style harmony and catchiness. Both are too advanced to
imagine on the bandstand at a high school reunion. But a reuni
on with Jellyfish would certainly be worth attending.
     Standing Hawthorne (formerly the Slugs) is an Orange County
band that showed good pop instincts and energy and a sense of
political irony during its 40-minute set. But the band needs more
practice more than it needed a new name. Singer Paul Schulte's att
empts at Bono-style theatricality fell into strident yelping, and
the drumming was, to put it charitably, undisciplined
(groove-obsession is no good, but groove-neglect can be fatal).
     First on were the Fishermen, a Los Angeles band that tried to
recapture the feel of the Rolling Stones' "No Expectations" or some
of the Band's sad balladry -- countrified elegies with a forlorn,
exhausted tone. The lead guitar was on target, but samenes
s of tone, bland lyrics and humdrum singing blunted the desired
effect.

GRAPHIC: Photo, Jellyfish lead singer Andy Sturmer performs in
thrift-shop bouquet wardrobe.  ROD BOREN / For The Times