Starting with ELO Part II's "pop goes classic" appeal, through the violin-and classical-driven sound of Kansas, to the distinct power chords of the Kinks — the house rocked. The three groups, which offered a longed-for alternative to the disco sound in the '70s, united to perform as the Heroes of Rock 1994 in a December concert in Stuttgart, Germany.

Electric Light Orchestra Part II opened the concert with a glow that was a near carbon copy of the original band. Relighted in 1991 minus some of the original musicians, but amply manned for performing its chartbusters, the new generation of ELO was best when it stuck to such recognizable old hits as Turn to Stone, Sweet Talkin' Woman, Mr. Blue Sky, and Hold On Tight.

But it was "strrraaannnge magic" when the band performed a few songs, such as Whiskey Girls, from its own Moment of Truth album. The new work, which had but a fraction of the shine that brightened old numbers, disappointed at least one of the group's biggest fans in the hall.

Martin Kubler, whose face had been beaming and his lips syncing perfectly as the band performed familiar hits like Telephone Line, Confusion, Evil Woman and Don't Bring Me Down, "turned to stone" when his rock heroes began playing their new work.

The attempt to re-form the group was initiated in 1991 by drummer/vocalist Bev Bevan, an original member, five years after founder Jeff Lynne left to pursue a solo career.

As in its heyday, the ELO derivative was fueled by the divine blue violin saws of Mik Kaminski, the group's most identifiable, though time-worn thread. The full re-sewn fabric seems a haunting, but less-doomed, parallel of Boston's disappointing, mid-'80s reappearance with its glockenspiel-laced rock after an almost 10-year hiatus.

Still, superfan Kubler remained appreciative of the group.

During its performance of some original ELO numbers, he sprang repeatedly to his feet, punched his right fist ceiling-ward and sang the lyrics: "Don't bring me down. No, no, no, no, no. Awoohoo. I tell you once more before you get on the floor, don't bring me down."

"Mik Kaminski is a 'fiddler on the roof,' " Kubler said. "He can play classical, western; he's wonderful." But Kubler thinks his favorite group ventured too far in the future with its new album. "I think they must again go back to the old (style of) music."

On stage, a member of one of the following acts gave ELO Part II a similarly negative — and blatantly sarcastic — review.

After the band had completed its set and Kansas had taken the stage, Kansas' lead vocalist, Steve Walsh, told the crowd: "Let's hear it for ELO (clap) ... (clap) ... (clap) ... Part Two." After the crowd failed to respond to his slap at the band, he added, "OK, let's don't."

While Kansas' name is suggestive of wheat fields and a lost little girl with ruby red slippers, the band is perfectly capable of creating its own images of a peaceful heartland. It is at its best in its hottest numbers, when Walsh's high, clarion-like voice merges with David Ragsdale's violin playing — which is as good or better than that of original violinist Robby Steinhardt.

The band cranked out fewer, but longer songs than the other bands on the bill, sounding exquisite until . . . well, until Walsh began "masquerading as a wild man" and "flew too high" on some of the group's more dronish, forgettable pieces. Once psyched up, he became too loud, overpowering the sound system and producing indistinguishable words — a minus for a band whose lyrics are an important part of their appeal.

Long-haired Ragsdale wore a tuxedo with calf-length tails and biker shorts with the colors of the German flag, a leather pouch covering his crotch. Appearing relaxed between numbers and pleased with his performance, he looked out into and bonded with the audience.

On his highlighted violin finish to Dust in the Wind he looked upwards with his eyes tightly closed while milking the sound from the strings, looking a younger, but just as professional, version of Kaminski in the earlier performance.

The bright solo spotlight stayed on him as he opened his eyes, forcing him to blink for a few seconds before smiling and nodding his head humbly in thanks.

It was getting on to 11:30 p.m. when the senior of the three groups took the floor.

When not having fun with the audience, such as balancing a beer bottle on his head or grinning gap-toothed into a television camera capturing the show for later showing Germany-wide, lead Kink Ray Davies gave the remaining fans what they had waited for — the Kinks' form of British rock that plays on feelings, some light, some dark, some absurd.

Unlike the first two bands, the Kinks held the audience from the start, beginning with the opening moments of Sunny Afternoon and continuing through Low Budget and Scattered, and the psychologically challenged Phobia and Aggravation.

Hard-core Kinks fans were plentiful. One was Holger Haas, who took his lip-syncing and air-guitar playing seriously as he turned his back to the band and sang to his friends complete with a rock musician's strut-and-jump. And he was really in his glory when The Kinks answered his demand for Lola with the familiar chords and words that he mouthed along with Davies: "I met her in a club down in old Soho ... where they drink champagne that tastes just like cherry cola.... Lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-la."

Holger said the song reminded him of an old girlfriend. When it was pointed out that Davies' Lola leaned toward masculinity, to put it mildly, he answered "So did she."

Another of The Kinks' most recognized hits, Come Dancing, had high-schooler Gabi Glaser flailing her head around and dancing in a cyclone manner that looked as if it would land her in a hospital. After a couple of more Kink-ey hits, she was joined by a male acquaintance who danced with her briefly before urging her to the exit, possibly to further emulate the moving lyrics.