STARRY EYED AND LAUGHING

THE VICTORIA Palace Theatre in London is usually the home of Mike Yarwood and his "Spectacular New Revue". I doubt whether that show can be much worse than what they booked for the comedian's night off.

Which isn't to say that Sutherland Brothers and Quiver and Starry Eyed and Laughing were particularly bad.  They both enjoy good reputations -- one as a hard-grafting, solid outfit with two great songwriters who have long played tag with success, the other a pub band who rocketed to album status in a remarkably short time to become quite an attraction on the College circuit.

But, playing with a lack of real fire, neither of these two bands are the stuff that rock dreams are really made of.

Starry Eyed And Laughing have just returned from a three-month sojourn in the States. Their music was always flawed, those Roger McGuinn sound alikes just a little suspect, but where I hoped the US trip would loosen them up and give them that extra confidence that comes with experience, it seems to have had the opposite effect.

Admittedly the ebullient Tony Poole has come on a long way. Once white suited, now festooned with bandanas and a pair of Nils Lofgren dancing, shoes on his feet, Poole is shaping into an excellent front-man.

But behind him the rest of the band looked distinctly uncomfortable.

With the departure of Ross McGeeney and his Telecaster, Starry Eyed And Laughing have lost that goodtime feel and the light, airy yet razor sharp sound that once got them by when their music wasn't so hot.

What were previously exciting live numbers - like the tightrope walking "One Foot In The Boat" and the more delicate "Flames In The Rain" came across as wooden and uninspired. Obviously they were not helped any by an inadequate P A and a poor mix, but with Mike Wackford's drumming frequently messy and new guitarist Roger Kelly pulling out licks that were too fast and too heavy, Starry Eyed And Laughing were not playing together as a fully integrated unit.

On the other hand, the Sutherlands, or SB & Q as they call themselves nowadays, were tight and professional enough, but as always their playing is never as good as their material.

I last saw them two years ago at the Rainbow: a schizophrenic outfit who performed with verve and  electricity on numbers like the excellent "Dream Kid", but were blown off stage by support act Brinsley Schwarz when it came to generating any true grooving atmosphere.

Since those days, of course, the Quiverlands have shed two more members, and the resultant four-piece, with Gavin Sutherland now on bass, has signed with CBS. A lot of people tip these guys for the top in 1976, but I must admit I can't see why. Despite a clutch of enthusiastic fans sitting in front of me, the set I saw them play was just as dissatisfying as the one I caught in 74, if not more so.

lain and Gavin Sutherland write good songs, of course, and on stage they sing them effortlessly and well. "Sailin'" (which did wonders for Rod Stewart's sagging reputation) was there, as was "Dream Kid", and assorted tracks from their latest elpee ("Reach For The Sky") like "Ain’t Too Proud", "Arms Of Mary" and "Dirty City". Strong tunes every one.

But as a band SB & Q are really ordinary. Their attempts at any kind of American styled, down-home trucking music fail dismally. They don't swing, which is absolutely essential if you want to be credible as a country rock band, and Tim Fenwick seemed more interested in showing off his ladykilling slick licks than he was in adapting his very English guitar technique to the context of the Sutherlands' songs.

The endings were limp and over introspective too. A feedback note here, a smooth but unresolved harmony there, and a backstabbingly surprise chord as the third option. This was getting very boring.

And then they came back for the encores. Was it The Shadows without Hank Marvin's tremolo arm, or Johnny and the Hurricanes, without the sax player, or was it even Johnny Kidd and the Pirates without the eye patch? No, when lain Sutherland began to sing you could tell it was Presley's "My Baby Left Me", and mercifully it soon segued into another song, one with the refrain "You Can't Put Down Rock 'n' Roll".

Which just isn't true. When allegedly goodtime, foot-tapping bands like these play as bland and damp as this, I really don't want to know.

I'm certain Mike Yarwood would have been a lot more interesting.