The Hit Men

With swinging precision, The Hit Men knocked out the nostalgic crowd at Popejoy Hall on Sunday afternoon. Their indelible tunes are so ingrained into our memory banks that the performance feels as though we’re listening to one very long song. It’s a soundtrack where we not only know every word, we eagerly anticipate the next verse and drum sequence as confirmation that we belong to this time, too.

The collective musical genius of these five artists spans six decades. They joke about knowing each other back when they had hair—or performed in Hair on Broadway—and drop superstar names with affection instead of vanity. Clearly, they are contented knowing their own celebrity status is achieved through the music they originate; sounds with such durability don’t come along very often.

Ringleader Lee Shapiro is as warm and welcoming as your favorite uncle. His young ambition to play piano in a rock band propelled him to study at the Manhattan School of Music, a wise career move that eventually led the Jersey boy to become an arranger and musical director for Frankie Valli. He pulls out amazing hammer action and acoustic-sounding piano notes from his Yamaha keyboard song after song.

Drummer Gerry Polci, also a former member of the Four Seasons, has everyone on their feet applauding and open mouthed after a seven-minute solo during a rendition of “Grease” that pounds. When Polci launches into “Oh, What a Night,” his trademark voice is as robust as ever, which is not surprising considering the drum workouts he’s nailing.

Playing a mean Höfner Club bass is Larry Gates, whose fingers fly over the neck to a point where they seem as though they aren’t moving at all, but you know they are, because you can happily make out every tab from his Gallien-Krueger amp. Then he starts singing, and a new mystery appears: Why isn’t Larry Gates a household name along with all the other big names he’s worked with? The good news is he is working on a vocal album, so add it to your wish list.

Pondering the legendary career of guitarist Jimmy Ryan is rather intimidating. From Carly to Cat to Croce—and he’s fiddled around with the Sirs McCartney and John—there is no wonder he is so naturally high while playing. He executes intricate leads effortlessly as he enjoys his wireless freedom. Surely, scores of rockers have mimicked his classic moves and iconic twirls. Ryan’s remembered version of “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown,” convinces you he was actually in that bar on the South Side of Chicago.

The quintet is completed by Emmy nominated singer, arranger, and producer Russ Velazquez. A triple-threat, he is bursting with love for this business. He garners an equally adoring reaction with his soulful, urban spin on “You Belong to Me.” Running the production from a key station, he periodically jumps to center stage to command the vocals, where he undoubtedly belongs to us.

The Hit Men pack a lifetime of pleasure into a few hours of entertainment. Their travelling show is more of a living documentary than a static tribute to their colossal hits. Sharply dressed and with impeccable timing, their authentic notes with a splash of “let’s sneak out and hit the road to have some fun,” make for a richly satisfying experience.

On assignment for ABQToDo.