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Note to Readers
   Well, after the longest winter in many years, spring is finally here, so I’ve celebrated by shaving the beard, getting the car stuck in the lawn, and writing reviews of the band that makes me happiest: the Rascals. You see, while I admit the Rascals probably aren’t the best band, they’re my favorite; I love their sound and their attitude, and I just want to capture the lovely vibes of this sunny March morning before Manitoba sends down another cold front.
   If you don’t know, the Rascals were one of the bigger names in 60’s pop music, showing up on the singles chart with regularity, and topping it thrice. The group leaders were Felix Cavaliere and Eddie Brigati, who wrote the original material (music and words, respectively). Both sang, and Felix played keyboards, emphasizing the Hammond organ. Gene Cornish played a restrained guitar and contributed the occasional tune, while Dino Danelli is simply the best rock drummer I can think of. The Rascals’ music is not just brimming with energy, it’s also full of optimistic joy and warm-hearted hopefulness. It feels good to listen to the Rascals.

Note: Since I first published this page, I have created The Rascals Reference Page, based on original and secondary research sources. Many of the facts on that page are more accurate than those presented below. Please visit the other site for more information about this fascinating group.

The Young Rascals
Rating: 7
Squirm factor: 2
   The Rascals got their start as the hottest bar band in New York, and this album reflects those origins (it also reflects a ludicrous image foisted upon them by their manager Sid Bernstein, who attached the ‘Young’ to their name and put them in the knickers and little-boy shirts seen on the cover). There’s nothing juvenile about their music, though; it’s a thrilling intersection of R&B with pop, powered by Felix’s innovative organ lines and some great vocals.
   There are some who criticize the group for throwing in too many covers of quite-recent hits (The Beau Brummels’ ‘Just a Little’, Bob Dylan’s ‘Like a Rolling Stone’, Wilson Pickett’s ‘In the Midnight Hour’) but that’s what bar bands do – rope in the audience with renditions of familiar material, then slay ‘em with something new. It’s not a bad commercial strategy, either. (Imagine a teenager in the record store: ‘I can buy four different records, or get ‘Good Lovin’’ plus ‘Like a Rolling Stone’ plus ‘In the Midnight Hour’ plus ‘Just a Little’ all right here!’) Aside from ‘Like a Rolling Stone,’ which Gene sings well enough but is lacking the pile-it-on instrumental touches that distinguish Dylan’s version, all the covers are excellent. Felix has a genuinely soulful voice, and unlike many white R&B singers, he doesn’t scream to sound tougher.
   One thing I love about the Rascals is that they truly represent the pop music scene of the sixties; in addition to rock and R&B, there was a strong element of traditional nightclub pop that allowed singers like Dean Martin and Ella Fitzgerald to remain popular throughout the decade. Eddie Brigati excelled at singing this kind of material, and delivered a number of ‘showstoppers’ on their first few albums. ‘I Believe’ finds him crooning gently while Gene delivers a wickedly complicated chord progressions with Spanish-flavored panache and is a great example of unfiltered talent.    There is some material that the Rascals were the first to present to the world, and those songs are the best part of the record. The songwriting team of Laurie Burton and Pam Sawyer deliver two gems. ‘I Ain’t Gonna Eat Out My Heart Anymore’ was the group’s first single (a moderate hit on the east coast), and it’s an oddly structured but dramatic rave-up, with Eddie fairly spitting out the opening while Dino rumbles threateningly, then cascading via Felix’s swooping organ into a defiant chorus. ‘Baby Let’s Wait’ may be even better; again it features Eddie providing a petulant vocal (with a Four Seasons-style class-conscious lyric) but he’s accompanied with excellent harmonies and a stuttering drum line in the chorus that ratchets the tension right into the moment when Eddie trips the rhythm (‘baby baby baby baby’) into the fade.
   The group’s first original composition, ‘Do You Feel It’’ is simply a rave over Gene’s frantic vamp, but it sure hits the right groove for doing the frug, and the drum breaks are thrilling. The highlight of the entire album is ‘Good Lovin’’, my candidate for the quintessential 60’s rock song. From the very start, a count-in which moves around the stereo field, every moment is calculated to stir the listener’s interest and excite his feet. It’s driven by a simple guitar riff but the swing in the rhythm locks nicely with Dino’s syncopated kick drum. Felix sings with a passion born from joy – you can hear the smile in his voice, and the arrangement hits a number of climaxes: the pause just before the second chorus, damming up the energy of the song ‘til it explodes in the next bar; Felix’s amazing organ solo, doing Hendrix-like overtones and multiple rhythms, driving to that chorus; and that final, overdriven guitar riff sending the song home with a sweaty drive. Rock and roll honestly doesn’t get much better than this.
   Despite the good-to-great performances (except lackluster performances of ‘Slow Down’ and ‘Mustang Sally’, which the group recorded before Wilson Pickett), the sound quality brings this album down a notch. The Rascals were recording live-in-the-studio, with Felix playing the bass lines using his organ pedals. It fills in the bottom, but lacks the percussive punch of a bass guitar. Despite that, the first album from the Rascals is thrilling, touching, and damn impressive.
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Collections
Rating: 7
Squirm factor: 4
   The first in a long string of dopey album titles that I’m sure caused the group’s reputation some damage, Collections (isn’t it just one collection’) is a mixed bag. The group at its most ambitious is working on highly polished pop material, but about half the album is more live-in-the-studio recordings of their stage act (interestingly, the covers this time are from the poppier side of R&B, like Motown, indicating the change of sensibility even without the big production numbers). Both sides of the group are fantastic, though, and it’s fascinating to hear the transition in progress.
   Eddie gets in two ballads, and both are incredible examples of a really tight band at work. ‘Since I Fell for You’ finds the Rascals building slowly, changing tempos on a dime, bursting into rocking mode, and dropping back out. Dino’s particularly good with the delicate cymbal work. ‘More’ is a luscious melody that allows Eddie to show off his warm, throaty tone, while Felix contributes another brilliant solo (notice how he gets the organ to shimmer with judicious use of the Leslie cabinet).
   The rockers are aimed squarely at the dance floor, and don’t fail on that count. A nice touch in ‘Mickey’s Monkey’ is when Felix substitutes Eddie’s name for the protagonist, and the medley into ‘Love Lights’ lets Eddie show off his up-tempo work, which is as powerful as Felix’s. ‘Land of 1000 Dances’ is oddly arranged – it doesn’t feature any of the verses, just a few repetitions of the chorus as the band gets louder and louder (by the end it sounds like Felix is playing with all ten fingers and maybe a nose) – but it’s a tremendous effect, like the stereo’s about to blow up!
   Gene contributes two songs, both of which are a little disappointing. ‘1956’ sounds exactly like ‘Kansas City’, although the piano runs are fun. ‘No Live to Give’ is pretty, but the lyrics are questionable (‘I find myself ignoring things that aren’t there’’), and Eddie could have sung it better than Gene did.
   The Cavaliere-Brigati compositions, though, make this album great. The record kicks off with ‘What Is the Reason’’, acquainting the listener with the band’s new style right away. There’s no corner of the arrangement left untouched. From the double-tracked piano introduction to Dino’s tom-toms tuned like tympani (notice how the fills in the chorus are in tune with the chords), to the massively echoed tambourine, to Gene’s stinging solo which adroitly handles a chromatic descending line thrown into the proceedings, it’s a great sound. The composition is a winner, too, with a low arc in the beginning of the melody followed by a higher inverted arc in response, it’s catchy and formally proper (Felix studied the classics as a youngster). Eddie’s lyric is just lovely, as he goes through all the reasons to fall in love, before settling on ‘you’ nobody but you.’ If the Rascals had just come up with this one song, they’d be considered cult classics, but they topped it twice more on this album alone.
   ’Lonely Too Long’ starts out with a Motown-influenced piano line, but soon creates its own style. A large part of it is Dino’s beat, described by Dave Marsh as ‘Benny Benjamin meets Keith Moon’. It does have powerful fills, but the most intriguing part is the kick drum pattern, syncopated into the two, but dragging the last beat all the way to the and of four. The melody’s short phrases (answered by a beautiful French horn) built into the passionate multi-syllabic outburst leading into the harmonized chorus, and the whole thing is a work of art. Again, a fantastic lyric, as Eddie takes Felix’s raw emotions (he’d just fallen in love), and makes some affecting phrases (‘all my trouble’s been torn in half’).
   ’Come On Up’ is not pop at all, but it does show that the Rascals still had a lot of sweaty groove in them. The guitar and organ lock into a fast version of a soul dance, but the way they drag the last beat provides a lot of sexy energy, and the combination of Felix’s earthy vocal and the backing ‘baby’s is a heady mixture. Just try to stay seated when this is playing.
   ’Love is a Beautiful Thing’ is the last of the original gems, and it solidifies the progress made by the group. Felix and Eddie duet with a bluesy verse melody that opens into a anthemic chorus (I love the way ‘beautiful thing’ trails down the scale, followed by ‘so beautiful’ tracing the same pattern a fifth above). Not so insightful in the lyrics department this time around (‘teach your heart to sing’), but they were just starting in this songwriting stuff. Three classics isn’t too shabby for the first try, and having another album chock-full of danceable raves, lovely singing, and brilliant drumming is just par for the course with a band this good.
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Groovin'
Rating: 8
Squirm factor: 1
   I can’t imagine anyone thought that the band who topped the charts with the quintessential soul rave ‘Good Lovin’’ would do the same a year later with the easy lope of ‘Groovin’’, but the Rascals were a rapidly evolving band. ‘Groovin’’ is one of the high points of their career, and its ubiquity probably had as much to do with the Summer of Love as anything by the Jefferson Airplane or the Beatles. The Rascals had always had an interest in percussion (Eddie played a number of instruments like conga and maracas on stage), and their use of congas, tambourine, claves, and vibraphone provide a fantastic setting for the amazing gentle groove of the song – it’s laid-back, but propulsive at the same time, owing to the Cuban-influenced bass line and Felix’s insistent piano line. The lyrics beautifully encapsulate the glorious freedom of a sunny day (‘groovin’’ down a crowded avenue, doing’ anything we like to do’) and the melody is perfectly designed for singing along. Perhaps the most glorious moment is when the group launches into block harmonies for the bridge, followed by Felix’s ascending piano line – it gives me chills every time. This is one song that always gets Abe out of a crying jag, and it stands as one of the monumental achievements of 20th century American popular music.
   The rest of the album is pretty darn good, too. The Rascals found themselves enjoying enough success in the studio to add a couple vital elements: they hired bass players, and added Eddie’s brother David to beef up the backing vocals. Both elements create a fuller-sounding production and the bass especially helps to emphasize the soulful tendencies of the band. In addition, they explore a couple new directions: psychedelia (it was 1967) and orchestrated pop (think Tom Jones, not Moody Blues.)
   The former entries are pretty enjoyable: ‘Find Somebody’ features Felix on guitar (don’t know where Gene was that day) in a raga-style arrangement that explodes into a straight rock chorus (dig Dino pumping up the volume with the floor tom), and ‘It’s Love’ has a terrific bass line that dances across the beat (played like a triplet over two-and-a-half beats, then a quicker triplet to fill out the measure) and an unabashedly joyful vocal from Felix (I love hearing him laugh when he sings ‘multiple revelations’). And while the lyrics are wide-eyed and hopeful, they focus on personal love rather than universal brotherhood, and bear up under scrutiny.
   The big pop numbers are where the band really shines, though. The opening track, ‘A Girl Like You’ was another big hit for the group, and it opens with a dreamy piano melody echoed by flute, but then bursts into an extravaganza of horns straight out of a Vegas revue, and those famous Brigati harmonies backing up Felix’s rapturous lead vocal. A glissando from the harp sends us back to the verse and we get to hear the whole thing again. Dino holds it all together with aggressive cymbal work and some well-placed fills in the chorus.
   ’How Can I Be Sure’’ is a delicate ballad accompanied by accordion for an Italian flavor. Eddie’s gentle, breathy vocal is a marvel, with its tentative attack in the opening changing into a full-throated declamation in the climax, and the song was yet another hit. Even the one cover song, Stevie Wonder’s, ‘A Place in the Sun’ has more of the pop feel than full-bore soul music. Dino provides a bouncy march-like beat, while Eddie gives his best show-biz performance of an uplifting tune.
   Gene’s two numbers fit in better this time. ‘I’m So Happy Now’ has a tricky arrangement, as the second part of the verse is so radically syncopated that you think it’s in triple time (but it’s not really) that Dino handles with a simple hi-hat tap, but the soaring melody of the chorus is echoed in the horns for a rousing performance. ‘I Don’t Love You Any More’ is so schmaltzy, particularly with the choral-style backing vocals, that it almost begs to be mocked, but the intriguing percussion (sounding like a cross between temple blocks and congas) and Gene’s smooth delivery redeem it.
   It’s hard to believe in 12 months that a group could go from covering ‘In the Midnight Hour’ to crafting universal anthems, but the Rascals were so talented that they did both credibly, and Groovin’ is one of the catchiest testaments to greatness ever recorded.
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Once Upon a Dream
Rating: 9
Squirm factor: 2
   The psychedelic movement did in more than one otherwise righteous band, as the eternal verities of a good beat and catchy tunes were submerged under a sea of tape echo and backward recordings. To their credit, the Rascals avoided that trap entirely with a sophisticated approach that makes Once Upon a Dream the first in a string of three nearly perfect pop records.
   The psychedelic touches on Once Upon a Dream are present but merely as filigree – between-song snatches of sound effects, etc. – and never intrude on the actual arrangements. Instead, the group opts to explore the orchestrated pop that made so many of their hits such treats. It’s not a matter of inventing something new, but of taking their talents to new heights with the usual brilliant singing and playing and a new degree of confidence in their songwriting.
   The Rascals had always shown the sort of sunny worldview that modern listeners make fun of in the psychedelic bands, but because it came naturally to them, it doesn’t seem so silly here. Rather than proclaiming peace and love for all, they just look for the good all around. This is the most optimistic album I’ve ever heard. The underlying assumption is that everything has something good to be said for it: from kids playing in the street to the flowers growing in the yard, it’s all part of the glory of this world. Heck, they even like rainy days, ‘cause it gives the opportunity to crowd into a doorway and get close with someone you’d like to meet. Call me a sucker for cheap positivity, but it’s just plain nice to listen to these songs.
   It really helps, though, that they’re such great tunes, played so well. Dino’s in great form as usual, with some aggressive r&b moves like the driving beat of ‘It’s Wonderful’ and ‘Please Love Me’ and a sizzling hi-hat against a shuffle in ‘Easy Rollin’’. Felix leaves the organ behind for the most part (except for a soaring line in the chorus of ‘My World’) to concentrate on the piano, where he also shines. ‘Rainy Day’ has a shimmering high-register counterpoint, ‘Singin’ the Blues Too Long’ is a tour-de-force of Ray Charles-style pop-blues piano, and he even redeems to dopey ‘Sattva’ from its sitar arrangement with a stride piano line in the bridge. The real star, though, is Gene. Surprisingly, his guitar work dominates a lot of these tracks with a new style – he’s moving on from the straight r&b slashing of earlier tracks to a more fluid soul-derived set of licks (it sounds like he’s been listening to Steve Cropper): the syncopated lick that underpins ‘My World,’ the double-tracked acoustic/electric combo of ‘Easy Rollin’ (with that great lick that leans into the downbeat), the stinging lead under the vocal of ‘Please Love Me’, all show Gene in a new light.
   Eddie and Felix and both in fine voice, and came up with some killer songs. ‘Easy Rollin’’ has a groaning melody at the bottom of Felix’s range that’s a delight, ‘Rainy Day’ has some fruity harmonies that set off Eddie’s wistful lead, ‘Please Love Me’ is a bit of a throwback to the earlier r&b style, but Felix’s passionate vocal is gripping. ‘It’s Wonderful’ was a hit single, with starry-eyed lyrics (‘being enlightened’ is like planting a seedling and watching it grow’) and some powerful interjections that are hooks themselves (‘ain’t it groovy!’), and ‘My Hawaii’ brings in an orchestra and pedal steel guitar for a lush soundscape that Eddie fills with a dreamy delivery. Gene gets in a very odd composition, ‘I’m Gonna Love You’, which features a brass band and cellos on the verses, and the Rascals supporting the chorus, but Gene gives his most soulful delivery ever and the song holds together on the strength of his wide-ranging melody.
   Side two has the loping ‘My World’, featuring Felix doing his best imitation of Eddie’s creamy vocal style, and ‘Silly Girl’, another big-band trifle with snazzy horns backing Eddie contemplating his own role in turning a girl’s head. ‘Singing the Blues Too Long’ cleverly subverts the blues style by incorporating some gospelly backing vocals and pointing out the advantages of a positive outlook (‘It’s 1968, after all’ time to turn the rights from wrongs’). Eddie’s brother Dave (‘the fifth Rascal’) gets a spotlight on the finale, ‘Once Upon a Dream.’ He sounds a lot like Eddie, but more Broadway and less soulful. He’s just fine on this anthem of universal hope (it could be hippy-dippy, but as a show-tune rather than a rock track, it slots in nicely with the long line of standards in this vein.)
   Brilliant compositions, exquisite vocals, and 45 minutes looking at the world through rose-colored glasses. What more can you want from a pop record?

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