Reflections on the (Young) Rascals

Maybe it’s the bizarre “little urchin” attire that they donned around the time of their 1966 breakthrough hit that forever shredded their street cred but the Young Rascals deserve to be remembered as more than just a superior frat rock outfit. Sure, their early records might sound a tad like the Kingsmen or the Swingin’ Medallions, but only if you aren’t listening properly. The truth is, they packed more soul into their music than any of their contemporaries – and there were plenty of other bands mining that same seam: the Vagrants, the Hassles and too many more to mention. That East Coast rock ‘n’ soul sound always carried a real wallop, but nobody did it better than the four members of the Young Rascals: Eddie Brigati – percussion, Gene Cornish – guitar, Felix Cavaliere – organ, Dino Danelli – drums. Just like the Doors, they had no bass player, relying on Cavaliere’s organ pedals to hold things down, and while Brigati was the erstwhile frontman, both Cavaliere and Cornish were also more than capable singers. Right from the start, they were a class apart. Don’t believe me? Ask Otis Redding – dropping by the studio one night, he turned to a colleague and said with delighted surprise, “You’re right. They are white!”. They weren’t simply, to use a rather tacky (and outdated) phrase, a “blue-eyed soul” outfit. They were the real thing. It’s no surprise that they ended up on Atlantic Records.

The first couple of albums (“The Young Rascals” (1966) and the following year’s “Collections”) offer a vibrant if somewhat startling mix of garage rock snarl (“I Ain’t Gonna Eat Out My Heart Anymore”, “Come On Up”), oddball cabaret leftovers from their early days in Joey Dee’s Starlighters (“I Believe”, anyone?) and powerhouse soul workouts (“Mustang Sally”, “Too Many Fish In The Sea”). No other garage band anywhere in the States was handling such a breadth of material, never mind doing it with such panache. The highlight of the first album was their barnstorming revamp of the Olympics’ “Good Lovin’” – a solid gold soul classic and a deserved U.S. chart-topper in the summer of 1966 – while the second album saw them developing as songwriters, with half the album made up of original tunes, not least the 1967 hit “I’ve Been Lonely Too Long”. Play them amidst a mix of Atlantic soul artists and try to pick them out of the line-up. They were that good.

Things stepped up a gear on their third album, “Groovin’”, issued in the summer of 1967 and trailed by the timeless title track, sung by Cavaliere. A second chart-topper in May and a staple of golden oldie shows for decades, the song’s ubiquity has not diluted its appeal one bit – it remains a shiningly brilliant example of swaying, summertime soul. Aside from a couple of garage rockers (“You Better Run” and “Find Somebody”), the album was cut from the same cloth as the single, and aside from a cover of Stevie Wonder’s “A Place In The Sun” was entirely self-penned (mostly by Cavaliere and Brigati). The other highlight, and the next single, was the breathtaking “How Can I Be Sure”, which managed to get away with including an accordion amidst the backing, soaring skyward thanks to a gorgeous melody, clever but moving lyrics and a career-best vocal from Brigati. A summer smash, it was covered in France by Nicoletta and in the U.K. by Dusty Springfield – both singers who know a great soul song when they heard one (it was also covered by David Cassidy, and whatever you think of his records, he always had an ear for a good song). A top ten hit on both the pop and the R&B listings, the album was one of the best soul long players of the decade.

But the band couldn’t escape the pull of the Summer Of Love, and under the influence of the Beatles’ “Sgt. Pepper” LP, they determined that their next album should be something special. Issued early in 1968 under the truncated band name the Rascals (moving them firmly away from the pop star image of their early days), the entirely self-penned “Once Upon A Dream” mixed their patent soul brew with elements drawn from jazz, baroque pop and psychedelia, with judicious addition of sound effects, spoken links and the perhaps-to-be-expected use of sitar and other exotic instruments. The album was bookended by the title track (a snippet up front, the full works at the end), and offered two further classics in the appropriately-titled “Easy Rollin’” and the pop-psych hit single, “It’s Wonderful”, a stop-start arrangement with divine if offbeat vocals. And yet, for all its undeniable charms, cut-for-cut it was probably not as strong an album as its predecessor – though as many fans cite it as their favourite, maybe that’s a matter of taste. Left off the album to serve as the next single, the gorgeous “A Beautiful Morning” returned to their soulful roots, albeit in the service of a suitably hippyish “isn’t the world great” vibe, gifting them another monster hit just ahead of their chart-topping compilation, “Time Peace”.

The Rascals had never been shy about their respect for the great soul singers of the era, and by now they were big enough to put their money where their mouths were, refusing to play any concert that didn’t include at least one black act on the bill. This display of solidarity undoubtedly hurt them financially, as many promoters in the south simply stopped booking them. When they did venture south, they also faced trouble from rednecks who despised their long hair and bushy beards (how times change – there are plenty of rednecks today who look like the Rascals did then!). One particularly nasty encounter in Florida early in 1968 would inspire their summer release, “People Got To Be Free”. Issued shortly after the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy (but recorded before the latter), the single was a powerful plea for freedom, tolerance and the need for us all to play our part, wrapping the heartfelt text in one of the band’s catchiest (and funkiest) melodies. Topped by Cavaliere’s soulful vocal, it was one of the biggest hits of the year, giving them their third run at the top of the charts, and while undeniably of its time, the sentiments remain as valid today as on the day it was made.

If “Dream” was the band’s “Sgt. Pepper” then it was only logical that they should follow up with their own “White Album”, the double-disc set “Freedom Suite”, although as the second disc was given over to lengthy jamming, perhaps Moby Grape’s “Wow” is a better comparison. Aside from the short ditty “Adrian’s Birthday” (named for engineer Adrian Barber), these jams have not aged well, particular Danelli’s extended drum solo, “Boom” (still, Cream had just got away with Ginger Baker’s “Toad”, so it probably sounded just fine at the time). Fortunately, the first disc more than made up for it with a return to the songcraft that had gone missing during the “Dream” sessions. Titles like “America The Beautiful” and (the next single) “A Ray Of Hope” further extended the optimistic bent of their recent chart-topper, while the sensible use of session musicians to augment the basic quartet gave the songs a richer, fuller and more varied sound than their earlier work. A marked step forward, it was also (like the “White Album”) the work of a quartet starting to pull in different directions, with Cavaliere dominating the songwriting credits and Brigati reduced to just two lead vocals.

These fissures became even more apparent on “See”, which appeared late in 1969. Cavaliere penned nine of the twelve tracks (one with Brigati) and his vocals dominated the album. The hard rocking title track was a noisy affair that didn’t quite work but the jazzy “Nubia” was an unexpected highlight and a cover of the Knight Brothers’ “Temptation’s ‘Bout To Get Me” took them back to their soulful beginnings. The influence of the Band could be detected in the generally rootsy, down-home sound that permeated the album, but the shift in sound did them few commercial favours and sales entered a steep downward curve. With the band crumbling, sessions for “Search And Nearness” wrapped in the autumn of 1970, just before Brigati quit the group, followed shortly after by Cornish. The album finally appeared early in 1971 and was a fitting epitaph, with the ebullient “Right On” and “Glory Glory” bookending a very strong set of songs that make it all the more regrettable that the band did not press on into the seventies.

There were actually two further LPs for Columbia by a new, Cavaliere-fronted version of the group, but while Danelli beat the skins on these, they are Cavaliere solo albums in all but name. Cornish and Danelli enjoyed a hit single (“No”) as part of the group Bulldog in 1972 before reuniting in late seventies outfit Fotomaker. Brigati’s post-Rascals career was more low key, notably only for the short-lived duo Brigati, formed with his brother David, while Cavaliere enjoyed a top 40 hit in 1980 with “Only A Lonely Heart Sees” and later toured as a member of Ringo Starr’s All-Starr Band. All four members reunited on three separate occasions between 2010 and 2013 for New York shows, but Danelli’s passing in 2022 drew down the final curtain on the band.

One of the most commercially successful American bands of the sixties, the Rascals remain fondly remembered by their audience yet they are rarely mentioned when lists of “great American bands” are drawn up. It is difficult to know why. Perhaps it’s because they had hit singles at a time when the market was shifting to albums – but then, they had hit albums too and anyway, that didn’t hurt Creedence Clearwater Revival. Perhaps it’s because, aside from a couple of 45s, they never meant much in the U.K. or wider European markets at the time – but then, nor did the Grateful Dead or Big Brother. Perhaps it’s because their music was grounded in soul, whereas the sounds that would go on to dominate rock music in the decades that followed were rooted in country, in folk and in the blues – but soul music was big business in the seventies and eighties too. Perhaps it’s down to those ridiculous stage costumes early in their career – but the Beach Boys’ critical reputation eventually overcame a similar image problem. Or perhaps it’s because all of the early rock histories – upon which most other rock histories are based – were written from a West Coast, Los Angeles to San Francisco perspective, and so the New York-based Rascals have been shunted to one side. Perhaps. Whatever the reason, it is a grossly unjust state of affairs. The fact is – the Rascals were responsible for some of the greatest music – on single and on album – of the sixties, and the recent release of the 7 CD box “It’s Wonderful: The Complete Atlantic Studio Recordings” gives us all an excellent opportunity to finally redress the balance. They truly were wonderful. Take a listen and find out for yourself.