Oregon daily emerald., June 28, 1973, Page 6, Image 6

in concert
Cheech
and
Chong
perfori
ii
the
drug
culture 8
‘Laugh-In’
while
the
Dead
play
an
excellent
show
(as
usual)
“Cheech and Chong,” the drug culture’s Rowan and Martin, came
to Portland’s cavernous Paramount Theatre last Friday and put on a
hilarious “Laugh-In” style show that would never get past the NBC
censors.
After nearly an hour of vibrating “folk salad” singing by Tony Joe
White, an emcee screamed in his best Dick Clark imitation: “Give a
warm welcome to Cheech and Chong!”
And on they came acting and sounding as stoned as their recor
dings—the ultimate spaced-out hippies.
They did the performance in the form of a variety show: two hip
comedians tossing up different subjects, shooting them down with
devastating one-liners and following up with a skit scene on the sub
ject. They introduced the skits and played the parts in the skits as well,
with the help of an on-stage quick change booth.
The subjects were popular: sex and drugs, but it was their con
tagious voices and manner that made things funny and carried the
audience more than the material. They were zonked, but you could
identify with them. Everyone likes to get zonked once in a while.
And, from the heady scent of marijuana smoke drifting through
the theater, you could sense that a lot of the audience was trying to
identify with them. Just getting loose and really enjoying the bonus of
visual entertainment which really made Cheech and Chong’s dialogue
work.
A lot of the routines were new, one from their yet-to-be-released
third album, but they also did some familiar things which were
enhanced by the duo’s visual antics. The funniest routines were the
ones they hadn’t done on records, skits they had worked out just for the
stage.
One of these new skits involved an old entertainer called Bund
Brother Chitlin,” played by Chong.
Cheech, as “Right On Washington,” the glib disc jockey from their
albums, introduces “Brother Chitlin” as “funky as 10 skunks.”
“Chitlin” is carried on stage sitting in a chair, an oblivious euphoric
expression on his weathered face. He sits there for a minute or two,
grinning at the ceiling, until “Right On” revives him. “Chitlin” goes
through a rambling and sometimes obscene portrayal of an old, tur
ned-on blues artist, then is carried off behind the booth for a quick
change and back on for another skit as someone else.
But first, a commercial message. Yes, the show even had product
advertisements between scenes. Not the kind you catch on the soap
operas, of course.
Cheech comes on with a plug for “Pristine Feminine Hygiene
Spray. If he kissed it once will he kiss it again?” Chong follows with a
testimonial for “Preparation H” suppositories. A little gross, but the
audience really likes it.
Moving back into a night-club-comedian format, Cheech and
Chong turn the subject to, of all things, dope. “How many of you smoke
grass? Half the audience raises their hands. Then, “Anyone on
speed?” Cheech and Chong then start a grotesque routine with
changing colored lights just to draw out anyone who wasn’t sure
whether they were speeding.
After a couple of one-liners on marijuana—“You’ve got some
great dope in this city. We brought it.”—they do a scene about drugs in
Vietnam.
A company commander is calling a forward platoon that has been
sent out to destroy a patch of marijuana. “Roger Fox Dog, Roger Fox
Dog, come in.”
A slurred answer comes back, “Roger does what? Man, that
Roger is a weird dude.”
The company commander didn’t get it either, so don’t feel left out.
The commander asks, “Any casualties?”
“Yeah, man, the whole platoon is wiped out,” comes the slow
reply.
After another one-liner, the platoon is left to finish off the
marijuana patch and Cneech, back as emcee, introduces “the U.S.
Open National Masturbation champion.”
“How does it feel to be champ?” Cheech asks.
“Sore, man.”
The audience is laughing with anticipation, now.
Cheech: “I understand you had some stiff competition. Did you
have a handicap, champ?”
Champ: “Yeah, they kept flashing a photo of Trish Nixon in front
of me.”
Cheech: “That must have made it hard.”
Champ: “No, it made it soft.”
This isn’t the first time Chong puts Nixon, and the establishment
in general, on the end of a pun. Earlier, he brings up the subject of
Watergate:
“Nixon’s in trouble, isn’t he?” The audience reaches a consensus
rather quickly, answering in the affirmative. “They don’t call him
‘Tricky Dick’ any more,” Chong goes on gleefully. “Now it’s ‘Limp
Rather crude humor, but Chong does seem to become more bitter
and biting than funny, when he discusses establishment personalities.
On American Bandstand’s 20th Anniversary show June 20, Dick
Clark invited the two comedians to participate in a mock “Rate-a
Record” session. Cheech fell into the spirit of the thing, but Chong
came on with a hostile manner. When Clark asked him to rate one
record, Chong grabbed the record and asked Clark, “You know what
you can do with this record? Huh?” Then he broke the record over his
knee.
Maybe it just wasn’t a good record (Cheech gave it only a “three”
rating) but Dick Clark, covering with laughter, gave the impression
that he would rather have been elsewhere.
Commenting Saturday night on the record-breaking scene, Chong
says, “I’ve always had an urge to get that dude.”
The dynamic duo then swings into a hitchhiking scene from their
first album where a speed freak has picked up a hitcher and they are
now driving. Fast.
Cheech (to cowering passenger): “You’re not afraid of a little
speed, are you?”
Passenger, now alert, interested: “You got some speed, man?”
You can really appreciate the added benefit of seeing the two on
stage during this skit. Especially when the red light starts flashing
behind their car and Chong, the passenger, starts scarfing down
handfuls of pills and joints.
The combination of visual impact and their spacy dialogue has the
right effect on the audience. And, Cheech and Chong seem to like the
Portland audience, too.
After a standing ovation, Cheech and Chong come back on stage
and Cheech happily exclaimed, “You’re a great audience, great. But
we usually get three joints on stage by now ...” The crowd didn’t take
the hint, but Cheech and Chong went ahead with one last scene,
anyway.
The last skit comes from their second album, on the subject of
what dogs “dew”.
“That’s a nice arch there, Ralph. Hey, you’re making a rainbow! ”
During this exhcange the two pundits are crawling around the stage,
acting the part, sniffing each other and revealing that dogs need love
too: “Isn’t that Fifi? Man, she makes me so horny I could pole vault.”
A stiff $5 fee, a line two blocks long and a shake-down for cameras
and tape recorders seemed to leave no ill effects on the crowd, and
Cheech and Chong certainly removed whatever traces of discontent
remained.
The stoned, spacy voice imitations on the Cheech and Chong
records are what made them successful, and it looks like they have a
future in combining that talent with acting to bring over live
audiences.
One thing they do need however, is some new material. Young
audiences, Cheech and Chong’s primary, are not going for the old
Milton Berle, Bob Hope jokes, anymore. Sophistication has set in, and
boredom comes quickly thereafter. Cheech and Chong are going to
have to do more than adapt old one-liners and depend on the shock
value of sexual and drug culture allusions.
The kids are really eating it up now because it’s new and has the
appeal of all things defiant and eccentric.
But, young people grow up fast these days, and fads have never
lasted very long in the entertainment field. Talent and originality have
always been the mainstay.
Cheech and Chong have the talent. Let’s hope they get some more
original material.
Phil Waldstein
The Grateful Dead are probably the only group who could play
three times a week at five bucks a ticket and still have a full house for
every performance. Last Sunday, the Dead played to a packed house
in the Portland Coliseum. The Grateful Dead are hard to explain-just
what brings the people out time and time again?
The Dead were in Portland earlier this year and sold out the
Paramount Theater. And now, back again for another sell-out. Do the
Dead deserve this kind of following? It is hard to argue with cold facts
that show that many people want to see the Grateful Dead play music.
I drove to Portland early Sunday morning. At the first exit on the
freeway I picked up a couple who were hitchhiking up for the concert
from Eureka, California. That’s a long way to come for a concert, but
they didn’t seem to mind; after all, once you are a “Dead Head” you’ll
do just about anything for a chance to see a Grateful Dead concert.
The concert was scheduled to begin at 7 p.m. and run until 11 p.m. I
got to the Coliseum about three hours before showtime and stood in the
drizzle for almost an hour before the doors opened and the thousands
of early arrivals began to stream into the giant hall in hopes of getting
the best possible seat. I had already figured out where I wanted to sit.
From an extensive background of lousy places to watch concerts
from, I had computed the best position in the Coliseum. I got through
the guards at the door with my wine bottle under my coat and
managed to get to where I wanted to be.
Despite the number of seats that are available in the Coliseum,
most everyone wanted to be down on the floor. I couldn’t handle four
hours of standing on my tip-toes trying to strain for a look at the band.
Instead, I sat back in my padded chair and waited for the show to
begin.
The Dead came on stage a few minutes after seven. It was a
relaxed sight to see Jerry Garcia amble on stage and begin tuning.
None of the fanatical screams that greeted Alice Cooper or Led
Zeppelin, just nice, appreciative applause.
By the time the band came on stage, several people had already
been carried from the floor, victims of either too much to drink, the
heat or bad dope. Coliseum officials had a hard time treating all the
cases they were confronted with.
I can’t remember what the Dead opened with, and I guess that’s
pretty typical of the whole show. I don’t think there was any over
powering need to hear any particular song all night. It was enough that
the Dead were playing, and what they were playing, they were playing
well. It was an even show, a fast number followed by a slow number.
Some old favorites, “Bertha” and “Sugar Magnolia.” Two hours and
then a short break, and then back to more music.
It is a different feeling going to a Grateful Dead show. You don’t
expect to be thrilled to death by the show; instead, you are entertained
in a different manner-you get to see and hear a fine band play for a
long time. The only problem this creates is one of stagnation. It is very
possible that the Dead are equating length of performance to musical
success-this happened in Portland.
The only really sour spot of the evening came three quarters of the
way through the show when the Dead went into an extended jam. It
lasted close to half an hour and I was bored, to say the least. There was
no call for anything of that length. Granted, it was nice to hear Jerry
Garcia zoom into whatever was in his mind, and it gave Bill Kreutz
mann a chance for a little solo exposure on drums, but it put a lot of
people to sleep and drove a lot of people home. It is unfortunate that it
marred an otherwise perfect concert.
From where I was sitting, the sound of the Dead’s new sound
system was excellent. I had a little bit of trouble hearing some of the
harmonies, especially Donna Godchaux, whose voice doesn’t carry
like Bob Weir’s or Jerry Garcia’s. But, it was really nice to hear a good
system for a change, instead of the ones that have been.around lately
at the Lane Fairgrounds.
Well, I had originally intended to pan the show a little bit when I
started writing. But, there is no sense putting something down because
it is the same every time, or because it lacks the explosive excitement
of some groups. No, for Grateful Dead fans, everytime you get a
chance to see the Dead it is a good experience
Who am I to try and discourage people from shelling out five bucks
every six months to see exactly what they saw six months earlier? It’s
good and we might as well enjoy it while it’s still here. The way things
are going’ the good things don’t ever seem to last very long, at least
not long enough. BrucMtcklo.