Rascalmania 

It wouldn’t have been too far a stretch, around 1967 and 1968, to call the Rascals the American Beatles. They had a knack for writing R&B songs with rock arrangements, scored nine Top 20 singles including two all-universe hits in Groovin’ and People Got To Be Free, then pushed themselves stylistically with Once Upon A Dream, an eclectic album that tried hard, but only proved that the American Beatles couldn’t assemble an American Sgt. Pepper, before band politics busted everything apart. By the early 1970s, the Rascals were done. 

During the final months of last year, I had Rascals on the brain after reading Felix Cavaliere’s autobiography Memoir of a Rascal, noting that Felix and Rascals guitarist Gene Cornish were playing in nearby Morristown, N.J. during a brief East Coast tour and with the death of the band’s drummer Dino Danelli on December 15. 

In Memoir of a Rascal, Felix comes off as a great guy in need of an editor. It’s a book that carries with it all the downsides that accompany self-published efforts: lousy photographic reproduction, some tortured sentence structures and numerous typos, reading more like a verbatim transcription of someone speaking into a tape recorder. Which isn’t to say that there aren’t any interesting stories. Felix was studying medicine at Syracuse University when he made a deal with his father to take a shot at being a professional musician for one year with the promise that if didn’t work out, he would return to school. He quickly got a gig playing keyboards for Joey Dee and the Starlighters, toured Europe and had a new career. Soupy Sales came up with the band’s name (originally the Young Rascals to avoid any confusion – and possible legal action – with an outfit popular in the 1930s and 40s known as the Harmonica Rascals). One can also assume from the book that a primary reason why the band broke was Eddie Brigati, who shared lead vocals and songwriting credits with Felix and who comes off as sometimes confused, ornery and obstinate. 

I passed on Felix and Gene’s tour not because of COVID concerns – certainly we could just wear masks in the theatre – but because I just felt it could never match up to all the good vibes I felt after seeing all four Rascals during their multi-media reunion in 2014. (Something only I’m interested in, but this wasn’t the first time some form of the Rascals played just a few miles from my home. In 1966, the band played concerts at the Fox Theatre and at the Bergen County Technical High School, both in Hackensack, the latter hosted by Zacherle who apparently spent some of his downtime that day fittingly walking around the cemetery across the street). 

Dino’s death wasn’t unexpected – Gene revealed in an interview promoting the Morristown show that he was in hospice. A flamboyant and powerful drummer, not unlike Keith Moon of the Who (whom, according to Cavaliere, learned how to twirl his drumsticks mid-beat from Dino), for Groovin’ he stepped away from his drumkit to steer the song’s Latin rhythm on the congas. He was a vastly underrated drummer and a talented artist. He built this collage out of found objects and dime store junk for the cover of Once Upon A Dream. It remains one of the coolest album covers ever: 

Some 40 years now since the Rascals broke up, it’s probably safe to say that we’ll never get any of the “product” that other artists that have been around as long, or less, keep bombarding the market with: the inevitable reunion album, archival live concerts (did anyone tape the Rascals performing at the Fillmore West or with a symphony orchestra at the old New Jersey Performing Arts Center?), expanded versions of albums marking their anniversaries, the five-CD box set with outtakes and alternative versions. 

Just in case someone opens the vault – if there is a vault – I’ve got some cash saved up in an envelope hidden in my sock drawer. But I’m not holding my breath.