Six thousand screaming teeny boppers—mostly female — kept up a siren of human sound and paid homage to Herman and his Hermits Thursday night at the Dane County Memorial Coliseum.

For the 45 minutes that the British quintet was on stage, the high-pitched human wail never ceased—except when Herman asked his frenzied audience to desist.

Begrudgingly, the teeny boppers quieted, only to erupt seconds later when the next Hermits hit song began, or when Herman shook his head, swung his arms, and rocked back and forth.

Or when Herman took off his blue-green silk shirt, moved to the stage, and sat down, cuddling the microphone as a red spotlight framed him, and began a ballad like “I Understand.”

HERMAN’S MESSAGE, as he exclaimed at one point, is “Have a lot of fun, and forget about everything.” His fans did that the moment the Hermits ran on stage. And his word was their command.

At one point, the audience sang an acappella chorus for “Mrs. Brown, You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter.” They needed little coaxing from the tousled-haired, smiling, exhuberant Herman.

What defines Herman is a carefree, spontaneous manner framed by an unsullied attitude which is reinforced in both song and stage character.

It’s a sugary kind of sweetness which sets Herman apart, and which causes his zealous audience to hope, in their screams and moans, they may savor some of that purity for themselves.

Before the Hermits took over, two current favorites, the Blues Magoo (from America), and the Who (also from England), banged and cavorted on stage.

The Blues Magoo — aided by electric batteries attached to their belts, colored bedroom lights — stunned the audience at the start.

The Who were better, due to their subject matter, a variation in rhythmic tempo, and a finale, “My Generation,” which literally ended in a cloud of smoke and a smashing of instruments.

The Hermits didn’t bang—they played. And credit the quintet with an ability to bring an audience along on a musical journey.

At times some of the frenzied thought coming along meant flocking onstage to join the leaders. Five or six Dane County policemen stationed at both ends of the stage, and at times strung out along the platform, put an end to these hopes, however.

But cameras abounded, and the police couldn’t do anything about the human siren which wailed unceasingly for the Hermits — and particularly Herman.