Is this the visual memento you always wanted of your favorite star? Choose your tapes carefully, and rent before you buy.

Before record companies discovered the promotional value of music video, a rock performer's best chance to achieve film immortality was as the subject of a rockumentary. In fact, from the late sixties to the mid-Seventies, it seemed as if no show was complete without a camera crew scampering back and forth across the stage, immortalizing every puff of dry ice and ten-minute drum solo. Of the resulting feature films, a handful, such as WOODSTOCK and THE LAST WALTZ, won critical acclaim. Most of the others, such as CELEBRATION AT BIG SUR and LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE ROLLING STONES, were slapdash jobs that exploited an audience of rock video innocents and then vanished from theaters after two-week runs. As mere filmed concerts, these movies just couldn't compete on feature film standards, and they could only be counted on to appeal to a small segment of moviegoers. But concert videos have finally found a niche in the home market.

In its purest form, the concert-length video is exactly that - a concert, to be enjoyed in the comfort of one's home, where the viewer always has a better-than-front-row seat. These programs usually run upwards of 60 minutes and range in price from $29.95 to $39.95. Since their artistic and technical qualities vary greatly, the smart shopper will rent a tape first: you'd be surprised how many of them, even by performers you admire, don't hold their charm. Concert videos must be judged for watchability (as any film would be) and for the quality of the music (as any album would be). The best enhance a performance with sharp direction and editing; make you think about the artist in a new way; offer more than just note-for-note duplications of studio tracks - although there aren't many that manage to pull it all together. For fondness of alliteration and consumer convenience, I've divided concert videos into three types: the souvenir, the straight shoot, and the statement. Two words of advice: Be picky.

THE SOUVENIR

This release, always by an enormously popular artist, is a sort of visual keepsake for fans. It usually commemorates a tour and often contains interviews, hit conceptual song videos, or other goodies. One of the best souvenirs is "David Bowie: Serious Moonlight," a 90-minute tape of a Vancouver concert from the singer's 1983 tour (originally aired as a Home Box Office special). Perhaps the main reason for its success is that director David Mallet was working from Bowie's concept - and Bowie had as strict a hand in the look of his video as he had in the design of his stage set. Four giant Roman columns filled with white light and watched over by a sparkly crescent moon give the impression of an ancient amphitheater, of classicism and endurance. This stunning set played to the last rows of arenas, and it plays even better on TV.

The camera also does justice to the subtle pantomimes with which Bowie and his backing singers interpret songs. (Such skits were lost in huge arenas like the one I went to, which didn't offer a wide-screen simulcast.) For instance, during CHINA GIRL, the singers and horn players sit on crates, smoking cigarettes, playing cards, and miming eating and arguing, to suggest the raucous atmosphere of noontime Chinatown. Mallet captures all the stage action, but the frame never seems overcrowded. He refrains from trite shots of fist-waving fans or grimacing guitarists, and he uses special effects wisely and sparingly - freeze frame for the serrated REBEL REBEL, slow motion for the dreamy LET'S DANCE. Through brisk editing and superb, clean sound (remixed by Bob Clearmountain), this arena spectacle becomes an intense and intimate encapsulation of Bowie's career. And Bowie, with his alabaster skin, cold eyes, and vulpine smile, is an ice-blue icon, a riveting visual presence. There are no dead spots of applause; instead, the next song's title and release date flash on the screen under a Bowie photo from that year, the Serious Moonlight Tour being Bowie's summation of his story till now. The video is a smart purchase for the historically-minded fan setting up a concert library. Heck, I spent more that $39.95 for tickets and gasoline.

"The Who Rocks America: 1982 American Tour," on the other hand, is a drab souvenir. The Toronto performance was erratic, and postproduction director Phil Tweedy didn't exert himself seeking ways to punch up the tedious spots. In concert, the Who may unleash an earthquake of sound (presented in all its glory, in Dolby, by Glyn Johns), but the band isn't much to look at. Repeated shots of Roger Daltrey marching in place, Pete Townshend windmilling at his guitar, and John Entwistle impersonating a sleeping bass player are visually D-U-L-L. The video's only clever use of special effects - and its only attempt to reflect the spirit and meaning of this farewell tour - comes during WON'T GET FOOLED AGAIN, when an animated pinball machine spews a montage of pictures spanning the group's career. "The Who Rocks America" is just your basic gargantuan rock show by a warhorse band, not a visual memory of the Who I'd want to keep forever. Rent this one; buy Jeff Stein's celebratory 1979 documentary, "The Kids Are Alright."

THE STRAIGHT SHOOT

Ostensibly, this is the simplest type of concert video, but judging from the generally disappointing quality of most of these plain old taped concerts, it must be the trickiest. The performance is key, so it's time that record and video companies realize that neither stage gimmickry nor platinum album sales guarantees a scintillating live show. For instance, on "Herbie Hancock and the Rockit Band," Hancock loads the stage with the hydraulic-powered robots from his ROCKIT song video, but the gizmos can't enliven this competent yet uninvolving performance. "Hall and Oates: Rock and Soul Live," a run-through of fifteen of the duo's engaging pop hits (beautifully recorded by Hugh Padgham), can't be saved by Hall or Oates, neither of whom is an even remotely exciting performer. They receive no cosmetic help from director Marty Callner, whose edit is slowed even further by endless boring shots of the audience applauding; we even have to wait with them for the encore.

There are many dynamic live performers who would be perfect for this format: Bruce Springsteen, Van Morrison, the Clash, Talking Heads, R.E.M., Prince. For now, though, Culture Club's new concert video, "A Kiss Across the Ocean," joins "A Night with Lou Reed" and "Roxy Music: The High Road" as the best of the straight shoots. "A Kiss Across the Ocean" catches the band in a sparkling performance at London's Hammersmith Odeon. Augmented by two horn players, a keyboardist, and backup singer Helen Terry, Culture Club plays with confidence and zest, adding new twists to old hits, throwing in their unrecorded racial unity anthem, MELTING POT, and - in the cases of BLACK MONEY and CHURCH OF THE POISON MIND - offering live versions that surpass their studio takes by a mile. Boy George is in fine, supple voice, and he shows off his unerring sense of soul phrasing and his rare ability to emote without seeming corny. There's plenty of visual stimulation, too. The stage backdrop changes every few songs, as does Boy George's costume. It's snowing indoors for VICTIMS; some audience members dressed in Boy George-drag jump onstage during one song and dance in a circle around their ecstatic idol.

Throughout, director Keef alternates shots of Boy George and his hysterical fans (many of them weeping teenage girls), vividly portraying the rapport between performer and audience. Keef also knows an evocative moment when he sees one. During CHURCH OF THE POISON MIND, he fixes on Boy George and Terry singing to and dancing with each other in the spotlight, capturing in an image what Culture Club is all about: a boy in makeup and a dress, a hefty girl in white sequins, claiming the pursuit of stardom, glamour, and romance as an inalienable right. "A Kiss Across the Ocean" is a delight to watch over and over; it may turn out to be as essential a rock artifact as THE TAMI SHOW in expressing the flavor of its time.

THE STATEMENT

So far, only a few pop artists have regarded the concert video like an album: a chance to make a statement. Joni Mitchell's "Shadows and Light," which the singer directed and co-edited, is more than just the visual sequel to the live concert album of the same name. Mitchell enriches an excellent date from her "Mingus" tour with pithy, well-placed snatches of video; the effect is comparable to seeing a performer in concert and suddenly understanding how all the pieces of her career fit together.

This particular show was held outdoors at dusk in the Santa Barbara County Bowl, and the calm natural lighting is well suited to the tranquil earthiness of Pat Metheny's guitar and Jaco Pastorius's bass (the sound is lovingly mixed by Andy Johns). Opening with a scene from REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE - James Dean stalking in front of a flickering TV set - the video cuts to a clip of Frankie Lyman and the Teenagers singing I'M NOT A JUVENILE DELINQUENT, then jumps to Mitchell launching the concert with IN FRANCE THEY KISS ON MAIN STREET ("In the war of independence, rock and roll rang sweet as victory"); this is a succinct equation of a teenager's identity struggles and those of a strong-minded, hopelessly romantic artist. It's a shame that Mitchell's intelligent and ambitious video statement is virtually one of a kind.

Another virtually untapped potential of concert-length videos is their usefulness in introducing relatively unknown performers. Dexys Midnight Runners is probably the least-known group to release a concert video ("The Bridge"). The band is flawed but enjoyable on record. In this show, however, leader Kevin Rowland is so pompous (not to mention off-key) that the video is often annoying. Record and video companies ought to choose powerful performers who can win instant converts, such as Joe Ely, T-Bone Burnett, and Los Lobos.

But the most tantalizing potential of concert videos is the opportunity they afford to bring home a truly special performance, not only to those of us who missed out, but to those of us who want to cherish it and puzzle over it. How nice it would be if this medium could be responsive to the great expectations of consumer-fans and to their small prayers as well. Of course I'd be happy with a video of the Jacksons' "Victory" tour, but I'd be even happier if Elvis Costello's recent solo acoustic dates had been preserved for posterity, too.

SELECTED VIDEOS

DAVID BOWIE: Serious Moonlight. Concert Productions
International, producer. Music Media M 441 (VHS & Beta),
&39.95

CULTURE CLUB: A Kiss Across the Ocean. Hugh Symonds,
producer. CBS/Fox 6659-34 (VHS), &29.98; 6659-24 (Beta),
$29.98

DEXYS MIDNIGHT RUNNERS: The Bridge. Siobhan Barron,
producer. RCA/Columbia VH 91055 (VHS), $29.95;
BE 91055 (Beta), $29.95

HALL AND OATES: Rock and Soul Live. Danny O'Donovan,
producer. RCA/Columbia VH 91065 (VHS), $29.95; BE 91065
(Beta), $29.95

HERBIE HANCOCK: Herbie Hancock and the Rockit Band.
Lexy Godfrey, producer. CBS/Fox 6619-34 (VHS), $29.98;
6619-24 (Beta), $29.98

JONI MITCHELL: Shadows and Light. L.A. Johnson, producer.
Warner Home Video 34057 (VHS and Beta), $29.98

THE WHO ROCKS AMERICA: 1982 American Tour.
Jack Calmes, producer. CBS/Fox 6234-30 (VHS), $39.98;
6234-20 (Beta), $39.98