The Great Speckled Bird Dec 10, 1970 Vol. 3 #49 pg. 9
Atlanta has had Radar for about two years now, and still isn’t aware of it. Besides the hunk Rock freaks who are subtly possessed and those insane followers from Radar’s roots in Sandy Springs, there exists few people whose spirits are lifted by the prospects of a Radar performance. This is an oddity, for Radar is one of the three Rock groups in Atlanta who have something to offer with their music. There are other groups with potential, but Hampton Grease, Booger, and Radar are the only ones who’ve matured to a point of originality and performance to rate acclaim.
I first heard Radar early on a warm Sunday in the Park during the season of 1969. Their material was fresh and away from the trends, but in the time passed they’ve unified the band and the music into a strong solid drive that excites and arouses. They’ve shown a growth in every performance, new material, new blends for old material, personalities, exploring each component of the Radar music for its maximum effect. They are four intense personalities who* have found that hard slot they best move together in, their energies providing a full cycle of lyrical motion and entertainment through one set. Characters
Jim Cobb is a product of music, dressed like he just pulled off his tie leaving church, bedroom slippers, and his notebook of song charts under his arm. Performing, Cobb’s bass draws motion from his open imagination, single-noting his runs through tight elative patterns that illustrate his knowledge and skill with the bass, innovative and progressive, yet he retains that purity and spirit of the early Rock that stormed our culture into its^ eventual recycle. Jim’s vocals are handled with a comparative fervor, loose with his casual yet forward manner, filled by that drive and whole with the Radar motion. Chris Cornish once seemed a rather plain and sober guitarist, but he is coming out as his musician’s confidence builds. His quality is not in being a “lead” guitarist, but a tasteful component of the whole. He listens and moves in where it’s needed, never overpowering the group sound with flashy up-front runs, an attitude used by George Harrison when he filled in the gaps for the Beatles. Meanwhile, Chris is nodding his body, making faces, and stretching into the mike to make his disciplined and capable voice perform for Radar. Singing the tales of noble reptilic monsters and senior class tragedies, his unique style and animated personality form the delivery and excitement.
Ottie Offen is all hunked up with motion. His skills, torn by a spectrum of influence, collect into successive flows through the progressions and burst into spiraling riffs in between, occasionally becoming a little too crowded during these peaks, but most often his piano is contributing to their entity. Ottie’s voice has a slight gravel vibrato and inflections that hint soul roots, violent, compassionate as he pours his dynamics into the swell of Radar.
Crazy Tony Garston addresses his drumming much the same erratic way he listens or talks. He’s constantly involved in finding new patterns and changes to give the music, never content with those tired patterns that makes Rock repetitious and horny. Tony pounces right out on top of you when you least anticipate his explosions. But Radar is rarely humble, and justly so, therefore it makes sense.
These four heroes concentrate to make the Radar music we fans all know and love. Even that “old war horse” of Cobb’s, the Mozle, is still stirring excitement, and more so than before for Radar |s always learning new tricks. Review
Radar’s climactic performance of the Mozle ’70 highlighted their last Gate: appearance, October 23. Their deranged following jammed the room to get their dues, and ever faithful Radar gave their all. The whole place was syncopated with that “motion” as Radar pumped out their music. Such favorites as “Jailhouse Rock”,’ “Louie, Louie”, and a “Whole Lotta Love” complete with destructive finale, shook the old house full that night. The clear feeling of their originals stimulated an aura of rushing excitement that peaked and calmed in complete cycles. 1 especially relish their performances of Chris’s “Swashbuckler,” Ottie’s “Georgia Moon,” the blend of Cobb’s “Heavenly Heartache” with Ottie’s “American Mag,” and Cobb’s two new songs introduced that weekend, “Long, Long Way” and “White Sun,” which illustrated his maturing as a writer and arranger.
The excitement eased and nearly subsided as piano-bar-style hip-medley-man Joel Osner played a terribly boring guest set, but was reinstated as Radar opened their final set with a one-act installment of “The Adventures of Lightning Lad,” a serial that is dedicated to good and evil simultaneously. The material, the antics, the between song patter, it cycles and Radar is always fun. Projection
Friday and Saturday evenings, December 4 & 5, the 12th Gate once again proudly presents Radar for your pleasure and elation. Ottie tells me that Radar has five new numbers to display and further “Adventures of Lightning Lad.” I expect Radar’s following to grow, in a town with so many people there should be absolute sell-out crowds to see a band this good, therefore it may be advisable to come early. It is well worth the effort and more than worth the lousy dollar admission.
—uncle tom