THE SUPREMES?

Being more interested in Benny Goodman and Beethoven than current pop music, I am hardly the right person to pass comment on the genre, but I have noticed that mention of a particular experience of mine in Singapore in the mid-1980s does sometimes cause a youngster's eyebrows to twitch with a modicum of interest.
I was in Singapore with a party of former Far East prisoners of war and some of their family members and relatives, and we were staying a few days prior to moving on to Thailand. We had visited Kranji war cemetery and Changi prison and other sites and places the veterans remembered, and I have to say that some of those who had been there 40 years' earlier found it all understandably difficult to deal with.
At the hotel one evening two or three younger members of the group, myself included, came up with the idea of walking to Raffles Hotel to enjoy a Singapore Sling. So we sauntered through the still-busy streets, enjoying the cool after an exceptionally humid day, found Raffles without too much trouble, and went in.
Initially, we were unimpressed with the famous old place, because the bar looked a little careworn, the gin-sling was so-so, and the prices high. Nevertheless, we managed to peep into the glorious Tiffin Room and saw the indoor garden area with the bedrooms - many of them named after famous people - arrayed around the verandah. But what interested us even more was the hustle and bustle in one of the central areas where tables were being laid, pot plants arranged, and a small stage organised.
'What's happening?' we asked the staff. 'Private do later tonight,' they said. 'They've got The Supremes coming.' Or was it the Three Degrees? 
There and then we decided to go back later, and that was when we discovered that the 'do' was a big gathering of car dealers, and that the group had been booked as the entertainment. My companions convinced me this was an opportunity of a lifetime, so we waited until the show had begun and then, with everyone distracted, gained access to a spot where we could look down on the proceedings.
To my way of thinking the entertainment was pulsatingly and uncomfortably loud and seemed to last a very long time, but no-one saw us and no-one moved us, so in one sense it was mission accomplished. My companions, in any event, were starry eyed with rapture, and strolled back through the Singapore night feeling everything was OK with the world.
We eventually reached our hotel and went in - and there, drinking coffee and sprawled over the chairs in the foyer, were the three singers. Emboldened, we went across and said 'hello,' and told them we had sneaked into the concert. They seemed amused. Then a waiter brought another round of coffee, so we stayed and chatted.
They really were very nice, and very American. 'Where you boys from?' one of the girls asked at some point. From Norwich, UK., we said. 'Naarridge,' one of them replied. 'We've been there.' They talked among themselves and finally agreed that, yes, they had been to Naarridge, but it was only to change planes. Then after about 20 minutes of chatting they said 'bye' and floated away.
Subsequently, I have been puzzled by this experience because I gleaned later that The Supremes actually disbanded in about 1977. And this incident was a good eight years' later. Perhaps it was not The Supremes, but another group, Mary Wilson and The Supremes. Or the Three Degrees.
I wish I had paid more attention at the time.