It couldn't have come at a better time, this four-CD overview of doo-wop's history – music so resonant its influence well extends to such contemporary outfits as Boyz II Men, Color Me Badd, All-4-One, SWV and others, all of whom are redefining the boundaries of group harmony while leaning on its traditions.

Thus the story of doo-wop. What those groups are doing today is what the Crows and Clyde McPhatter and the Drifters did in 1953 in reconfiguring the smooth, pop-based approach and complex harmonies pioneered in the late '40s by the Orioles and the Ravens. By the same token, the late '50s and early '60s saw Dion and the Belmonts and the Jive Five's Eugene Pitt offering new spins on mid-'50s harmony styles, best exemplified by the likes of the Platters and Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers. In this case the cliché is true: The list goes on and on.

Doo-wop is about great singing, individually and collectively. Notable among its features are a soaring, plaintive tenor lead and a bass voice serving as either foundation or comic relief. Instruments are secondary and rarely remarkable, with such notable exceptions as the ebullient rhythm guitar on the Students' "Every Day of the Week" or the inventive rhythm section (and outrageous sax solo) on the Turbans' "When You Dance."

Bear in mind that all of the gear used in modern studios to prop mediocre voices had yet to be invented when most of the 101 tracks on this set were recorded. With everything being done on the cheap, principally by underfunded independent labels, artists were fortunate if more than one microphone was available. So when the Harp-Tones' Willie Winfield eases into "A Sunday Kind of Love" (on Volume I: The Birth of Doo Wop, 1948-1955), you hear, with no embroidery, the genre's Sinatra, a vocalist with extraordinary command of nuance and timing, imbuing his performance with overwhelming personality, making it his statement, a statement for the ages.

Winfield is in his own league, but similar compliments could be paid to many of the artists on these discs. As overpowering as were the first-generation vocalists (the Orioles' Sonny Til, the Ravens' wonderful Jimmy Ricks/Maithe Marshall team, the Five Keys' Rudy West, the Spaniels' Pookie Hudson, the Platters' Tony Williams – of course – and one of the grand gentlemen of doo-wop, the Cadillacs' Earl "Speedo" Carroll), such later-era giants as our mainman Dion, the Skyliners' Jimmy Beaumont, the Earls' Larry Chance, Maurice Williams (fronting the Zodiacs), Harvey Fuqua (Harvey and the Moonglows) and Eugene Pitt stand toe to toe with the early masters to create their own timeless music.

Rhino has done a superb job in cataloging doo-wop's various incarnations, from early, pop-inspired group harmony to gospel-influenced styles bordering on soul to harder-edged ensemble work with a rock & roll feel. Doo-wop's distaff side is represented solely (but spectacularly) by the Chantels, whose lead singer, Arlene Smith, stepped into history with her gut-wrenching reading of "Maybe."

One could bemoan the absence of such lesser-known classics as the Eternals' "Babalu's Wedding Day" or the Contenders' "The Clock," but some songs were unavailable due to licensing problems. The informative booklet indicates a sequel set is forthcoming, so there is more to anticipate. What's here is choice – obvious but choice nonetheless in all its wild romanticism and boundless optimism.

That this music should gain new currency in a troubled world is unsurprising. When streets turn into horror shows, when kids have to pass through metal detectors to go to school, when even the language of everyday discourse brutalizes us, a message of hope resounds in simple sentiments from decades past. More than escapism, more than a memory of a vanished America, doo-wop advocates a moral code in its themes of dignity, self-worth and selflessness, sharing and unconditional love as the only true love. This is its enduring legacy. Listen and be moved. (RS 686/687)

DAVID MCGEE