Child's play

Hanson electrify Great Woods

by Scott Wheeler

Anticipation ran high for the first local concert by the teen trio Hanson (Isaac, 17; Taylor, 15; and Zac, 12). My own daughters (Margaret, 12; and Lizzie, 7) love the group's three CDs and one of their fan bios, so I promised to take them to Great Woods on June 26 if they would help me describe the concert. (Their mom, who joined us, was at the Beatles' first Ed Sullivan appearance.)

Great Woods scheduled Hanson at the kid-friendly hour of 7:30, but the anticipatory waves of screams started well before 7, on the exit ramp off the highway, where vans of girls (you could count 30 girls before finding a boy in this crowd) shouted, "We love Hanson!"

The opening act was a group called Admiral Twin, a foursome in black suits, older but even cleaner-cut than Hanson. The matching suits may have made Admiral Twin look a little anonymous and prefab, but their real problem was their anonymous garage-band material. The Dave Clark Five (minus the memorable melodic hooks) came to mind. (Margaret: "It's not Hanson-style. Is this going to last long?") Still, the audience had come to scream and scream they did. Admiral Twin got their biggest response by mentioning that they're from Tulsa, "the same city as Hanson."

The tech crew setting up for Hanson got a bigger response yet. Then the biggest moment: a quickly rigged curtain dropped to reveal the blond brothers on a stage set consisting of four cardboard oil derricks (the Oklahoma of Middle of Nowhere?). Two adult guitarists (introduced, I think, but the names couldn't penetrate the audience noise) stood in semi-darkness, almost off stage. Hanson's opening number, a crisply driving version of "Gimme Some Lovin'," had enough energy to ride over the by-now roaring audience. This '60s hit, like a few others that night, was more familiar to the parents than to the kids.

Hanson also did a heavy, fast version of the Rascals' "Good Lovin'," a happy-sounding "Money," and an inventively harmonized rendition of the Who's version of "Summertime Blues." Hanson may have been talkin' 'bout my generation, but none of this material is the cream of '60s rock -- their own tunes were the best of the evening, even without a couple of their hits. (Margaret: "I wish they had done `Madeline.' ") Their recent interviews have promised a rawer sound for upcoming albums, and the emphasis on R&B tunes made me wonder whether the group are being pushed to avoid the bubblegum label, to do more "real" rock. That would be a shame, because their natural '60s antecedents are neither the Rascals nor the Who but the Beach Boys. Hanson's sunny fraternal harmonies and satisfying chord changes are the equal of early Brian Wilson; their lyrics are already more interesting than his have ever been.

For the middle section of their 90-minute set, a closer backdrop representing a three-car garage gave us a more intimate glimpse of the three brothers, without their back-up players. There was even a solo -- Isaac playing keyboard and singing a lovely ballad.

For Hanson's hit "MMMBop," the crowd sang along; keyboardist Taylor moved over to conga. "A Minute Without You," dedicated "to the people out on the lawn," had plenty of energy to carry outside. Other rocking hits were "Where's the Love" and "The Man from Milwaukee." "I'll Come to You" is gospel by way of "Let It Be." In "Thinking of You" and "River," Isaac edged his guitar solos into the promised "rawer" sound. (Margaret: "Their success comes from their pick-me-up songs. If they switched to gloomy heavy metal they wouldn't be as popular.") "Weird," intimate on CD, was equally effective as a heavy anthem from the full band, and it gained a new warmth in a brief a cappella version sung as a third and final encore. The boys' voices held up nicely through the 90-minute set, despite the heavy bass and drums and the screaming that was exacerbated by the sweet moments of vocal harmony at the end of "Stories" and at the refrain of "Soldier."

Banter from the stage was minimal, mostly Taylor asking, "How you doing?" Almost anything else was drowned out by the crowd, but the Hansons understand that most rock-concert interaction is nonverbal. There were big screams when Zac turned to face a new section of the audience, or when Taylor stripped down to his T-shirt. (Lizzie: "I liked it when they sprayed bottles of spring water into the audience.")

The phalanxes of preteens not only screamed but waved their arms more or less in rhythm to the music, tossed beach balls, and wafted soap bubbles (nothing more pungent here) through the air. Face painting on elementary-school girls announced their allegiance. One mom's T-shirt identified her as "Zac's future mother-in-law." It was somewhere between a Bonkers birthday party for 20,000 and a moshpit. Did it live up to expectations? Margaret: "It was above them." Lizzie: "I thought it was cool when Zac used glowing drumsticks."