RASPBERRIES
An Outdated Story
 
By Bob Kozak
 
Uncle Sam's (Buffalo, NY) is a big place. Lots of high, round tables surrounding the dance floor with a bar along the left side and a room full of pinball machines, pool tables, and other amusements in back, separated by windows from the dance floor/bar. On this particular Thursday night the place is comfortably crowded—not packed, but most of the tables are full, with more people out on the dance floor bumping to the sound system. The lack of people could be forgiven, though; the Raspberries had just been signed a few days earlier and there had been no time for advertising. A lot of people just didn't know they were there.
 
A local top forty jock is behind the stage, playing records over the sound system. The best response comes, naturally, when he plays "Go All The Way." But, close to ten, everyone is beginning to get impatient, and a sigh of relief goes up when the stage lights dim and several shadowy figures come out and begin picking at random electric pianos, guitars, and drums. A short announcement regarding Nixon's resignation only minutes earlier is greeted by cheers, and then Wally Bryson revs up his Gibson flying V and dives into the opening riff of "I'm a Rocker." From there on out everything's alright.
 
New Raspberrie Scott McCarl, looking, according to Eric, "like Todd Rundgren, only better…", stood off to the left, playing bass and staring out into the crowd as he sang. The other new member, Michael McBride, was all but invisible behind his massive drum kit but he made his presence felt when he played. Wally Bryson, the first kid to get thrown out of high school in Cleveland for long hair, stood on the right, playing like a man possessed; slamming his hand into the strings and then ripping it back on the upswing and generally acting like he would pass into an epileptic fit at any moment. In the middle, Eric Carmen was in command, moving gently and sexy to the music and smiling at the pretty girls out on the dance floor.
 
The band was visually and musically exciting; tight and loud, mixing old songs and new songs well, and finally ending with a long version of "All Through the Night" complete with electric piano and guitar solos. There were minor disappointments—Eric only played guitar on a few songs, and the piano player, though he was excellent, just didn't seem necessary. But the Raspberries brand of good ol' Rock 'n' Roll made up for everything. I We went home early—seems the under-age girls who had accompanied us had ended up having to sit the night out in the car but we went home satisfied that the new Raspberries were just as good, maybe even better, than the old band had ever been.
 
"Well, it may sound funny,
but I'm not in it for the money.
I don't need no reputation,
and I'm not in it for the show.
 
"I just want a hit record.
Wanna hear it on the radio.
Want a big hit record.
One that everybody's got to know."
 
The Raspberries started as a band with a purpose. They ware matching clothes and mod haircuts. Their music sounded almost uncomfortably like the early Beatles or Searchers or Hollies. What they probably wanted most was a hit record. To hear themselves on the radio. To have kids come up and say, "Hey, is that really you guys on that record?"
 
"We play the kind of music we liked when we were kids," Eric once told a Rolling Stone reporter, "you know—Beatles, Beach Boys, early Kinks. We try to put more sunshine into our songs than the Beatles and more rock than the Beach Boys."
 
Eric, Wally, David Smalley, and Jim Bonfanti had all been from veteran Cleveland bands like The Choir and Cyrus Erie when they decided to get together. Lighthouse producer Jimmy lenner discovered them and got them signed to Capitol records.
 
Their first album, Raspberries, contains three excellent songs. "Don't Want to Say Goodbye" was the band's first flop single. It's a long, slow painful song, and it's a credit to Jimmy lenner and the band's knowledge of pop that everything—Jimmy Haskell's syrupy string arrangement, Eric and Wally's deliberate vocal, the impassioned coda—all work to make the song one of the group's most moving performances.
 
And of course, there's "Go All the Way," the band's first gold record and a great Who style rocker. And the eight minute "I Can Remember," which closes the album, is the big production number, with several changes in mood, and Eric showing off his classical piano training. The lyric is pure summer love: "I can remember midsummer skies, the look in your eyes."
 
The rest of the album wasn't so hot though, and in amongst the few critical raves were many people calling them things like "shallow and imitative." The next album, Fresh Raspberries, was, overall, a better album, sounding quite a bit like semi-acoustic Beatles. "I Wanna Be With You," which started off with the riff from the Chiffon's "One Fine Day," was another hit, despite the fact that it's probably the band's poorest single. "Let's Pretend," though, is a delicious sensuous ballad, based on the same subject matter as "Wouldn't It Be Nice."
 
"Baby, let's pretend we could always be together.
If we close our eyes and believe, it might come true."
 
I remember seeing them do this on Midnight Special in spring, '73, out of their matching suits and into "mid-sixties British pop-star" gear, with Eric looking like he was gonna fall apart if it didn't come true. I fell in love with the band that night; but wouldn't you know it, the song wasn't a hit.
 
But still, the music was getting better. Fresh Raspberries also contained the group's first tribute to mid sixties California culture: "Drivin' Around." The best was yet to come.
 
In late summer of '73 the band released the single "Tonight" of the Side 3 album. "Tonight" was the culmination of every single the Raspberries had till then.
 
Some girl, probably at the local CYO dance, is giving Eric these looks, see, so Eric decides to tease her a bit: "You look too young to know about romance." But: "When you smiled I had to take a chance." Toward the end he pops the question: "Won't you let me sleep with you, Baby?" Hey, but it's okay, cause "I just want to make you feet good inside, baby!" Another example of teenage love over one of the best arrangements and productions (Jimmy lenner again) of any pop single in the 70's. But, unbelievably, it was another flop.
 
"Ecstacy" is practically as good. It's structured similarly to "Go All The Way" with a power chord beginning and popish verses. And Wally deserves praise for his guitar virtuosity; that shimmering guitar section toward the end that sounds like—about five guitars is played by Wally alone live. And Guess what? Another single that doesn't sell.
 
David Smalley's tunes were getting better (even if they sound like he listens to Badfinger's No Dice album exclusively) and the strings and piano-based tunes had been ditched in favor of snarling guitars. But Side 3 Was the first and only Raspberries album with no collaboration in song writing. After the album it was announced that there had been a deep split in the band.
 
David Smalley and Jim Bonfanti wanted to wear jeans on stage and play more "mature" music. So they left and formed Dynamite with two ex-members of Cleveland's band Freeport, and the Raspberries were down to…Eric Carmen and Wally Bryson.
 
Scott McCarl had played in bands in Nebraska, and decided he might help his career if he sent demo tapes to Todd Rundgren and Eric Carmen. When David and Jim left, Eric remembered the tape and how Scott sounded like "a 1965 John Lennon," and Scott was only too pleased to join when asked. For a drummer, Eric and Wally went to Mike McBride, who had played with them in their Cyrus Erie days. The new line-up leaves the band stronger than ever.
 
The new album is by far the best Raspberries album yet. The Raspberries at their best do fulfill the ambition Eric told the Rolling Stone reporter about. And on Starting Over, they're at their best more often than they've ever been before.
 
The album begins with "Overnight Sensation" with the band explaining the reasons their knocking themselves out to make these records in the first place. It's the first Raspberries song not about love or girls, and precludes a whole side of songs not about those things the Berries usually hold to be fit subject material.
 
When I first heard this on the radio, I thought it was Wally singing (it's Eric—remember when you couldn't tell if it was John or Paul singing?), there's a great uncredited sax solo, and even a fake ending, with Mike McBride bashing the song back in. But it seems to have been a poor choice for a single; if the program directors won't spend 3% minutes on "Tonight" they won't spend 5-1/2 minutes on this.
 
"Play On" is next, with Scott McCarl making his singing debut with the band. The music marks a bit of a departure for the group. Instead of the usual surging power chords, the song is propelled by an ascending riff played on the bass strings of the guitars. The lyrics are Scott's—finally in a major band and playing for keeps—trying to convince us that he's already jaded and cynical ("It's a hard life but you play it for laughs"); shades of Mick Ralphs in "Rock and Roll Queen" recording for the first time and announcing "and I'm just a rock and roll star." Anyway, it's a great rocker, and even more importantly is the first song credited to the song writing team of Carmen and McCarl; a collaboration which on the strength of the songs on this album could prove very valuable to the future of the band and pop music.
 
We'll have to let Wally get a few words in here. On "Party's Over," he really screams his guts out, something which the Berries seem to do better than most bands around today. "Ain't it a shame the party's over?" But it's undoubtably the best rocker Wally's written, which makes it nice to hear him say he "ain't gonna quit."
 
But enough of this. The bell rings for round one and in this corner we have from England, the Who, while over in this corner we have the hometown favorites, featuring Mike McBride destroying his drum kit in just over 4 minutes. "I don't know what I want, but I want it now!" Poor Eric is getting badgered and pressured by his teachers to decided his fate. It's possibly the best cut on the album -- the power on this cut is unbelievable—and despite the fact that some people are gonna scream about the similarity to "Won't Get Fooled Again," it's still one of the best rock songs in recent memory.
 
Scott's "Rose Colored Glasses" is the first let-up of the record, both in intensity and quality. It's the other, cotton candy side of pop; pretty but not very substantial. However, flip the record over the the Berries start to dig in again. "All Through the Night," on which the band likes to stretch out live, is a Chuck Berry/Faces style rocker, with Eric's singing all breathy and raspy, a la Rod the Mod. And it gets better with each listening.
 
The next single will probably come from one of the next two songs. "Cruisin' Music" is a further elucidation of "Drivin' Around," but instead of that stupid "tape player blasting," they're pushing buttons and listening for a "screaming jock," which seems to make a bit more sense.
 
"I Can Hardly Believe You're Mine" is classic Raspberries. Eric is singing, soft and gentle on the verses, but when the choruses come all the emotion and pure power breaks. It was written by Scott and Eric, as was "Cry" which Scott sings and which features a killer guitar break from Wally.
 
The band winds the album down slowly from here. "Hands on You," like "Down Time Blooze," on Stories' About Us, or the various filler on Let It Be, sounds like an intentional throw-away, meant basically for comic relief, but even this features nice harmonies from Scott over Wally's perfect Liverpool accent. The title song is the big production finale. Very Elton Johnish, but better than anything the Bitch has done lately. It may be a classy way to end the album, but I daresay the rockers will stick in your head longer.
 
The Raspberries are starting over. But it's hard when you've lost momentum and when the better your records get, the less people will play them. There seems to be some sort of backlash against punky pop played loud and exciting. Another great seventies band that might die because AM program directors don't understand them, and FM program directors think they do. Starting over underground is tough, especially if no one gives you a chance.

Shakin' St. Gazette / December 12, 1974