Copyright 1990 The Chronicle Publishing Co.    
The San Francisco Chronicle
OCTOBER 28, 1990, SUNDAY, SUNDAY EDITION
SECTION: SUNDAY DATEBOOK; Pg. 44
LENGTH: 1024 words
HEADLINE: Jellyfish Jams to a '70s Beat - Bay Area Bell-Bottomed
Rockers
BYLINE: TOM LANHAM, SPECIAL TO THE CHRONICLE
BODY:

     IT WAS a conventional workday afternoon in San Francisco's
North Beach district, but at Cafe Puccini a rather unconventional
argument was taking place. ''No, no -- it was Clarence Williams
III,'' insisted the lanky long-haired lad in bell-bottom trousers
 and a Dennis-the-Menace cheesy shirt spattered with a
dalmatian/fire hydrant motif.
     ''Uh-uh, it was Buddy Miles,'' countered his diminutive
dreadlocked chum, who was sporting brushed-denim elephant bells, a
''Bobby Sherman'' leather choker and buckled boots he adoringly
called ''Greg Brady specials.''
     The two musicians -- Andy Sturmer and Roger Manning,
respectively -- were trying to settle a simple question: Which '70s
entertainment figure boasted the biggest Afro hairdo. The winner,
they eventually decided, was Roberta Flack during her ''Quiet Fire'
' period.  
     Both 24, Sturmer and Manning are hula-hoop serious about any
subject relating to their favorite decade. And, as the songwriting
team behind Bay Area sugar popsters Jellyfish, they've been on a
quest to relive the era of bubble-gum anthems, wholesome tele
vision sit-coms and outlandish fashions. Their music, according to
Manning's reference points, sounds something akin to ''The Banana
Splits Meet Queen.''
     Focusing on a growing revival of kitsch '70s hipness,
''Entertainment Tonight'' profiled Jellyfish this summer, featuring
the band's vast wardrobe of glitter-age togs that Sturmer swears
''we've been collecting since high school.'' But the quartet's chee
ry approach -- heard on their Charisma Records bow, ''Bellybutton''
-- comes close to the sugary glaze of 10CC, and has made inroads of
its own. The Radio and Records trade report recently listed
Jellyfish's single ''The King Is Half Undressed'' in the To
p 20 on the alternative chart, with ''Bellybutton'' a few slots
away from the album-oriented rock Top 40.
     The Sturmer/Manning duo can sip soft drinks in a hometown
coffeehouse without stirring up much fuss, but elsewhere a great
deal of confusion follows them. At a lavish Los Angeles party the
band attended while recording its album last January, Sturmer rec
alled bumping into one of his all-time cultural icons, David
Cassidy. The ex-teenage heartthrob and anchor of the campy comedy
''The Partridge Family'' didn't take kindly to his zealous fans.
     ''He wouldn't believe us -- he thought we were making fun of
him,'' says vocalist Sturmer, who fronts Jellyfish from behind a
zany stand-up drum kit. Keyboardist Manning was equally perplexed:
''He didn't realize I'd just purchased his Colorforms set for
 $20 in mint condition!'' He frowned, dramatically daubing a
vintage frilly sleeve at a make-believe tear. Sturmer and Manning
gleefully bat their musical influences about like kittens with a
ball of twine: Cheap Trick, The Sweet, The Carpenters, the glam
 metal group Angel. And the then-controversial album both had to
sneak into their homes as teenagers, the camp classic ''Kiss
Alive.'' They even unexpectedly break into an a capella version of
Ray Stevens' ''The Streak,'' after which Manning pointedly acc
uses reggae star Bob Marley of having lifted the theme song for
''The Banana Splits'' television show for his ''Buffalo Soldier.''
Sturmer -- who once was hired by Sea World to dress like furry
Banana Split Fleagle and greet visitors -- convulses with lau
ghter.
     ''When you're an artist, you work to create an illusion,''
reasons often-befuddled Jellyfish manager Chris Coyle. ''But this
is actually where they're coming from -- they're part of the TV
generation.'' He's watched the group create its own distinct soun
d and style from scratch.
     As backing members of Chris Ketner's Beatnik Beatch combo,
Sturmer and Manning kept their odd fetishes in check until last
August. Then, Sturmer says in a reverent whisper, ''it was
uncomfortable for everybody and the band just exploded.'' Ketner
went in
to electrical contracting, and his confederates, with guitarist
Jason Faulkner and Roger's brother Chris Manning on bass, went
headlong into another era. ''We wanted to cut the cord and start
anew,'' Sturmer explains, while Manning works to clarify ''that
 our music isn't retro -- we just draw from the record collection
we grew up with.''
     After a healthy bidding war, Sturmer recalls being ''offered
the current, in-vogue producers-of-the-week.'' The ''most obscure
find available,'' Jellyfish decided, was ''Saturday Night Fever''
maestro Albhy Galuten, who gave ''Bellybutton'' the historic 
flavoring the band desired. Picture four-minute Top 40
sensibilities distorted through the neon-hued eruptions of a lava
lamp.
     This is rock music at its brainiest. ''She Still Loves Him''
sways with ethereal Beatles harmonies. ''Baby's Coming Back'' is as
blushingly corny as ''The Partridge Family's'' ''I Think I Love
You'' and the power-pop ''I Wanna Stay Home'' could nestle sa
fely on any ABBA album. ''The King Is Half Undressed'' and its
attendant Dr. Seuss-inspired video -- in which Sturmer dons a magic
cornucopia of a top hat -- makes the Jellyfish premise clear: What
good is nostalgia without a healthy helping of humor?
     Outside of songwriting, Manning and Sturmer don't appear to
take many things seriously. Giggling, they compare notes on
respective toy collections and ponder the worth of ''Land of the
Lost'' board games and Rodney Allen Rippey pillow dolls. ''You
rememb
er how Kiss albums all had that same smell?'' Sturmer suddenly
asks. Manning looks lost in reverie. ''Yeah,'' he sighs. ''Like
they all came from the same packaging plant. You open one up and
it's total childhood memories.''
     With a post-baby-boom generation now wistfully looking back on
the '70s, is a revival in full swing? Manning isn't so sure, but he
doesn't mind Jellyfish being labeled the movement's flagship.
''That's fine, whatever,'' he says, adjusting the peace sign 
on his choker.'' This is the kind of thing we always wanted to do,
and we finally got an opportunity to do it.''
     Adds Sturmer: ''We've come out of the closet.''
     ''Uh, these have come out of the closet,'' Manning clarifies,
encompassing Jellyfish's foppish Sunday finest in one sweeping
gesture.

GRAPHIC: PHOTO,Jellyfish, clockwise from top left, Chris Manning,
Roger Manning, Jason Faulkner and Andy Sturmer