MUSIC
Fresh Raspberries

After years of rumors, Cleveland
pioneers of power pop reunite—if only for one night

By Deanna R. Adams

They were our version of the Beatles. Four talented, enthusiastic young musicians who came together in hopes of being more than just hometown heroes. They wanted a hit record. They wanted far-reaching celebrity. And, in what seemed like no time at all, their rock and roll dreams came true. With Beatles-esque harmonies, clean-cut, Beach-Boy looks and love-struck songs, the Raspberries captured the devotion of the most fickle of music critics—teenagers. Not just in the States, but around the globe.

"I'll never forget our first gig," drummer Jim Bonfanti recalls. "We kicked off that night playing the Beatles' "I Got a Feeling." It reflected our overall mood of the group."

It was the feeling of success. The band, with Bonfanti, singer/guitarist Eric Carmen, guitarist Wally Bryson and bass guitarist Dave Smalley, debuted in a North Ridgeville teen club on October 16, 1970. From that moment on, the audience's excited response would be repeated each time the group played at area clubs. The initial enthusiasm was understandable: Each of the musicians had been in bands before, bands that had already earned admiration from fans and club owners alike. The Choir, consisting of Bonfanti, Smalley and Bryson, was one of Cleveland's most successful. While fronting his own musical groups, Carmen had always longed to be in that Lake County garage band, whose 1966 record, "It's Cold Outside," made it to number 68 on the coveted Billboard charts.

"I was really, really blown away by the Choir," Carmen recalls. "When I first saw Wally play I just knew if the two of us ever got together we could do some damage. I realized almost immediately that he was the yin to my yang, so to speak. Not unlike Lennon and McCartney."

Carmen never made it into the Choir, but he did manage to steal away Bryson. Their new band, Cyrus Erie, became the Choir's greatest rival on the local music scene. A couple of years later, Carmen and Bryson brought in former Choir members Bonfanti and Smalley to form a powerhouse band Carmen offhandedly corned the Raspberries.

Within a year, national record companies were scrambling to sign the Raspberries. Capitol Records ultimately won a fierce bidding war in 1971, and by 1973, the Raspberries were one of the top recording acts in the nation. Their self-titled debut album spent 20 weeks on the national charts and sparked two hits, "Don't Want to Say Goodbye" and "Go All the Way" the latter becoming the group's first gold record. Their second album, Fresh, produced hits "Let's Pretend" and "I Wanna Be With You," firmly launching them into rock and roll fame.

"The Raspberries brought the British Invasion home to us," notes South Euclid entertainment manager David Spero. "They proved we also had top-notch singers, songwriters and performers that could deliver haunting melodies and lyrics. And the fact that they were from our own neighborhood made it all the better."

Through the course of five years, the group toured Europe, received critical acclaim and gold records, and headlined a 1973 concert at Carnegie Hall—an event both Carmen and Bonfanti agree was the highlight of their Raspberries career. The quartet was living the dream that drives nearly every aspiring musician. So why, many asked in 1975, did the band break up?

"We had just enough success to realize how much more we wanted and didn't have," Carmen explains. "And, unfortunately, throughout the life of the band, we had ineffective management. We opened shows for groups we never should have, where they didn't want us using their lights, and were getting shoved off the front of the stage because we were doing too well…If it weren't so sad, it'd be funny. It became a comedy of errors. We were these four guys trying so hard in the face of this incredible adversity."

Poor marketing was also a factor. The ill-advised marketing ploy, a raspberry-scented "scratch-and-sniff" sticker on their first album, discredited the group's objective to be recognized as a serious rock and roll band, and soon they were touted as a "bubble-gum" pop group. The pressures of producing two albums in a seven-month period, the constant touring and, of course, the most common of maladies among rock groups—"creative differences"—were taking a toll on band members.

Soon after the well-received Carnegie Hall concert, Bonfanti and Smalley left the band, replaced by former Cyrus Erie drummer Michael McBride and guitarist Scott McCarl, a self-described die-hard Raspberries fan.

The group's success continued with its fourth album, Starting Over, which peaked at number 12 on Billboard and was ultimately named 1974's Album of the Year by Rolling Stone. But what began as a celebration of their new musical formation became the group's swan song.

Although they successfully overcame their "teeny-hopper" image, band members couldn't conquer their personal differences. Inner turmoil, particularly between Carmen and Bryson, persisted, and by April 1974, the two were no longer on speaking terms. The Raspberries called it quits, and Carmen went on to a solo career. He achieved his greatest success in the '70s and '80s with gold and platinum-selling records that included "All by Myself," Never Gonna Fall in Love Again," "Hungry Eyes" and "Make Me Lose Control."

The group lived on, however, thanks to classic rock stations that continued to play their records and the accessibility of the Internet. The Raspberries are now considered pioneers of power pop. Yet, despite the popularity of rock and roll band reunions throughout the 1990s, with such notoriously fitful bands as the Eagles and Fleetwood Mac putting aside their differences in the name of nostalgia, no one ever expected a Raspberries reunion. Although they came close in 1999, when the group performed a few numbers on the Odeon stage for the 80th birthday party of former Plain Dealer rock reporter Jane Scott, it was but a brief encounter.

"Much as I dreamed that a Raspberries reunion would happen, I never honestly thought it would come together, at least not in my lifetime," says Ken Sharp, author of the 1993 book Overnight Sensation: The Story of the Raspberries. It just goes to show you: Never say never.

On November 26, the Raspberries will indeed reunite when the band headlines the grand opening of the new Cleveland House of Blues (call 216-861-3229 or visit www.hob.com for tickets or more information).

"I'd heard so much about the Raspberries ever since moving to Cleveland 10 years ago," says Anthony Nicolaidis, Midwest talent buyer for HOB. "So when I began thinking of bands to book for the grand opening, I thought, wow, if we could get the Raspberries back together for this, that would be perfect."

It turned out to be easier than Nicolaidis thought. "Everyone has the right attitude," Bonfanti says. "We're all really excited. Plus, our own kids will be seeing us perform together for the first time, so that in itself is very special."

Carmen agrees. "I always thought if we were to do this, it had to be right. There's a certain myth that's surrounded band over the years, and I didn't want to be the one to pop that bubble. Now both the timing and the venue are right. I'd played the Chicago and L.A. House of Blues when touring with Ringo's All Starr Band in 2000, and they were the coolest darn clubs I'd ever been in. Great lighting. Great sound systems. And we're all now at the point where we just want to get up there, do a great job and have a lot of fun."

And their fans—those who remember when, as well as those like Ken Sharp, who discovered them post-1975—are equally excited.

"I am beyond thrilled," says Sharp, who recently co-wrote a history with Bernie Hogya on Eric Carmen called Marathon Man. "Not just for myself, but for the 'berries fans around the globe who'll now have a chance to witness the magnificence of this remarkable band."

Northern Ohio Live / November 2004