Jump to content

Lew Bundles

  • Content count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won


1 Follower

About Lew Bundles

  • Rank
  • Birthday 12/28/53

Profile Information

  • Gender
  • Location
    Morris Cove
  • Favorite Eric Carmen Album
    I'm Through With Lew
  • Favorite Eric Carmen Song
    Bundles Against Current

Recent Profile Visitors

5374 profile views
  1. Raspberries Don Kirschner Info

    That’s the reason for the laughing emoji...
  2. Frankie Valli

    Don’t be a sore loser, ...
  3. Raspberries Don Kirschner Info

    An open forum? Wow...First time for everything...
  4. Raspberries Don Kirschner Info

    https://forums.stevehoffman.tv/threads/raspberries-how-many-appearances-on-kirshner-and-midnight-special.738024/ P.S....I cant figure how to make the text appear as opposed to just the link...Moderators?...
  5. Frankie Valli

    Went to see Frankie Valli this past Sat.night...For a guy in his 80’s, he does a pretty good job...Tony Orlando was in the crowd and was introduced by Valli... The son of a gun has a million hits... Trivia...The Four Season were the only musical act to have a number 1 on the Billboard charts before the Beatles hit the charts(pre ‘64), during the Beatles reign(‘64-‘70) and after the Beatles broke up(post 1970)... I will entertain guesses and will butt in only when someone posts the correct songs...Remember, these are Four Seasons records, not Valli solo...
  6. Eric Interview by Jon Tiven

    Don’t think I posted this before...my apologies if I did... Raspberries' Eric Carmen by Jon Tiven JT: Do you go into the recording of an album with more material than you can use, and pick the best ones? EC: Not usually, although this time we have because we've had a little longer to work at it. It may be possible for us to write a few more lines than we actually have to. Usually no-one does anything until about a month before the album and then our producer, Jimmy Lenner, says, "where's my tape of all the new songs?" and we immediately confine ourselves to our houses for about three or four weeks and write all the stuff. He says, "You just made it under the wire". JT: Is the production a shared thing or is it mostly Jimmy? EC: The situation is this: the arrangements are all ours. The songs are all ours, and we've usually got a good idea of what we want them to sound like. We don't do any of the production per se, Jimmy's in the control room listening with Shelly Yakus, our engineer, and we enjoy doing records with him because he is not a tyrant producer. He isn't out trying to put his personality into the record, that happens without him having to force it on you — if you listen to the records that Jimmy cuts you'll notice that there's a similarity about the sound that's just his production. He knows what we're going for, and he does his part very well. JT: Where is his head at musically? EC: He produces people who he feels have been either badly produced or who he sees as being talented and his production will help give them the shot they need. He's not interested in doing a band that's already peaked. He digs everything — he's produced Isaac Hayes, Donny Hathaway, Poco, the Chambers Brothers, Lighthouse, and more recently Three Dog Night and Grand Funk in addition to us. He's got his fingers in a lot of different pies, and musically he likes just about everything. JT: On several occasions Tod Rundgren has recorded similar tunes to you. Care to elaborate? EC: You heard about that? We were in New York cutting our first album at the Record Plant, studio B, we'd mixed everything on the album except for two songs. Todd was in studio A doing some tracks for the Something/Anything? album. We were finishing the mix on a song called "I Saw The Light". Todd came over, stuck his head in the door for a few minutes, and then disappeared. Then the other song on our album that we were mixing later on that day was "I Can Remember", and while we were mixing that Todd came in and listened a little more and went back, and that was that. Then when I went out and bought the Something/Anything? album I noticed that the very first song was "I Saw The Light", and I thought that it could be a coincidence. Just because I hadn't seen that song or song title surface in ten years of pop music before... OK, I'll chalk that up to coincidence. Well, the lyric to our chorus was, "Then when I looked in her eyes/I saw the light" and Todd's was "I saw the light in your eyes". But then, the very next song took the exact chord progression from "I Can Remember" and started with the lyrics "Do you remember" and I thought to myself, "Is this coincidence?" JT: How do you feel about the supposed new movement of "American Anglophilia" and certain magazines calling your hometown of Cleveland, Ohio the "Liverpool of the Seventies?" EC: As soon as you call something the new anything it's dead. I think that the minute somebody called us "The New Beatles" it ended our career for at least three years. They called Bruce Springsteen "The New Dylan" and it didn't do him any good, and calling Cleveland "The New Liverpool" isn't going to mean anything. The problem is that there isn't going to be a new Liverpool, there's too much media and there's been a complete sociological change in culture between the Sixties and the Seventies. If all these people would think about it, they'd realise that there won't be a "New Liverpool" until rock 'n' roll dies out to the point where it was when the Beatles hit. JT: What kind of shape do you see rock in currently? EC: It's kinda interesting — I was thinking for the past five years that things were rather dismal, but I just got in the car the other day, clicked on my AM radio, and heard four songs in a row that I really liked. JT: Which were... EC: Linda Ronstadt's version of "You're No Good" which I think is just great. To me it sounds like the drummer and piano player from the Staple Singers, George Harrison and Pete Ham on guitars, and some tremendous background singers all sounding like something from Abbey Road. Then I heard "Movin On" by Bad Company which I like, although I can't say I'm really into what Bad Company do on the whole — I couldn't sit through their album, although I tried. Wally's the big Free fan in the band, and I think Paul Rodgers has an amazing voice, but it's not my kind of music — it ain't the Rolling Stones, but I think that's all we're gonna get. I love the Rolling Stones — even the new album. JT: How does it feel to be an instrumental "floater" on stage, switching from keyboards to guitar to just being a front man holding a mike stand? EC: Well I'm a keyboard player, above and beyond everything else. I write almost all my tunes on piano, although I visualise them in my head beforehand on guitar. I'm at home on piano, I really enjoy the piano on stage. I think it's a good change from the bash, bash, bash all night long. JT: But you're a bitch of a rhythm guitar player, and there's a shortage of them these days. EC: Since I got the Ampeg stack and a Les Paul, I've really started enjoying playing guitar on stage again. If I could find any other guitar that sounded that good that wasn't as heavy, I would buy it in a minute. I played a Melody Maker, but nothing sounds as good as this Les Paul. I tried the Les Paul L5, the smaller model made more for recording, and it's a nice guitar but too clean. It'd be great for Mel Bay. JT: Was there a rivalry back home between you and the James Gang? EC: We were sort of a cutie-pie band at the time with crushed velvet pants, we looked like The Nazz or something. And the James Gang comes on stage looking like they hadn't washed their hair in six months. But no matter how hard they played, we'd still outdraw 'em, even if only by a little bit. I like Joe Walsh a lot better nowadays than when he was with the James Gang. He's done quite a turnaround, he gets a really great guitar sound and he's a great guitar player, but I don't know where his head's at. I used to run into him, say "Hi how're you doing", and he'd say "Great — if I could only stand my band". That's where he was at with the James Gang. JT: Did you ever hear Big Star? EC: I never heard them live, but I heard their albums. I have 'em both. I like Big Star, I like the things they're into, I think they're really interesting to listen to. I keep hoping that they'll cut something real commercial, and I don't even think it's the fault of the band or the songs, I think it's the production. I think Alex is a real tasty guitarist, that Strat sound he gets is terrific, and all the reverb he gets. I really like the Big Star, I like the whole album — they don't do much overdubbing, they keep it really clean and like what they'd sound like live. I must say that one of my reasons for ranking Pete Townshend as my favourite guitar player is that in a guitar-bass-drums band, it requires a lot of self-restraint not to go out playing solos all the time, freaking out for a half hour — it takes a lot of restraint to play what sounds good and makes the band sound good, rather than showing off the guitarist. That's what I think of when I listen to Big Star, Alex Chilton doesn't play the stuff to impress guitarists, he plays things which make the band sound full. Three-piece bands are real hard to do, it's hard to keep a crowd interested — The Who are the living example of all the possibilities of a three piece. JT: You've always had a lot of image problems with Raspberries... care to talk about it? EC: Oh yeah, starting with our album covers. Like the white suits, that was a concept that had to be believed in, but the cover was an absolute disaster. Up until our latest album, we didn't see our album covers until the day the album was released... we thought our first album cover was the worst that any could possibly be. Then we saw the second album cover. JT: The white suits on the first album cover was your idea? EC: The way it came across just flipped me out, we looked like wax dummies. The true story is that I took the cover of Straight Up by Badfinger to our art department at Capitol and explained to them about the beautiful photography, the portraiture — I said this is what I want with our faces, and that's that. If the picture had been that good it might have come off, but when I saw that album cover I wanted to slit my wrists. We absolutely forbade them from using a picture of the band on the third album cover. JT: Are any of your influences American? Besides the Beach Boys, I mean? EC: I started playing guitar when I heard "Mr. Tambourine Man" on the radio, that song did it for me. My life's ambition was to own a Rickenbacker 12 string and get in a band with somebody else who could sing so we could play that song. From the month after a Byrds album was released, I'd hang out in the record Store every single day and ask if they had the new Byrds album. I was about 15 then, I had taken a lot of classical piano before that, all the formal musical training, because a very close aunt of mine was in the Cleveland Symphony Orchestra. My parents zapped music lessons on me when I was 2½, an elementary theory course for children, where you learn rhythmic values by dancing. You take one step for a quarter note and two for a half note. I detested it and quit, but when I was about six I took violin lessons from my aunt and hated that with a passion, I was sort of a mascot for the Cleveland Orchestra for two years, hiding in cello cases and going to the concerts. But when I was eleven I took piano lessons, which is what I always wanted to do, and I took about four years of lessons until my talent wouldn't carry it alone and I really had to get working. But then I saw The Beatles on Ed Sullivan doing "I Want To Hold Your Hand" and realised I was playing the wrong instrument, so I went and took one guitar lesson. They taught me "Buzzing On The B-String" or something like that and I said this wasn't going to make it, so I bought a Beatle chord book. Next lesson I walked in playing chords and my teacher said "No, no, no — you want to play 'Red River Valley'" and I told him I didn't want to play any lead, just chords, so that was that. I'd just spend hours listening to Byrds records and learning off that, and later I learned a lot of Beatles records and Who records. JT: To quickly change the subject, when did you realise that the rhythm section of the Raspberries Mark I resembled dead weights yearning to be The Eagles rather than a hard rock twosome? EC: The thing was when Jim [Bonfanti, drummer on the first three albums] and I started the group we had this idea, we agreed on almost every facet of it. But Jim was a staunch conservative and I'm a complete eccentric. I'll try anything if I think it might work and I'd rather take a chance and fall flat on my face — but we didn't know this about each other. We put together the group, and Wally had hair down to his elbows, moustache and beard, the same jeans for about three months — not to mention a complex about being in the same city as Joe Walsh — and I had to keep telling Wally that the two of them played a different style and one wasn't better than the other. We cut the first album, we were all naive little 20 year olds and pretty pleased; Dave had only been in the band a few months when we cut the album, he'd been in Vietnam. We originally had another bassist in the group and he was a good bassist, a fine songwriter, a pretty decent singer, and an absolute tree stump on stage. He was actually even good-looking, he looked like Elvis with horn-rimmed glasses, and we kept trying to get him to take his glasses off but he wasn't into it. We have a short drum break in the end of "Fire & Water", the Free song, and Jim would be going at it, me and Wally would be egging him on, and this guy would sit on the piano bench and smoke a cigarette. This was in 1970 and 1971. One night we asked him if he was bored, he said yeah, and we asked him with what, and he said the music. So we asked him what kind of music he liked and he said Neil Young — we said "You're bored playing Little Richard songs and you want to play Neil Young!" He was always late to gigs, and we kept telling him to be on time or we'd dock him from his pay, y'know, any excuse to take 50 dollars out of the bass player's share, and one gig he was outrageously late and Jim called him up and told him he'd be docked the 50 dollars and he said "Oh yeah — well I quit!" That was that, we never called him again and we played as a three-piece for a few months with me on bass. Actually, I really enjoy playing bass, it's a really creative instrument and if I didn't have to be visual on stage I'd do it. Then Dave came out of the service, and we needed a guy with a bit of charisma to fill the hole between me and Wally. We let Dave play rhythm guitar at first because that's what he'd always played, worked him in about two weeks. We spent about 4000 dollars of our own hard-earned bucks cutting demos in a local studio, and our managers — two real snakes — got Jimmy Lenner interested. Jimmy came and saw us at a little bar at Kent State called J.B's. and we blew everyone away, it was right about the time of the Kent State massacre and we were playing all these Rolling Stone songs, and everyone was getting all excited, breaking things and smashing glasses, the owner told us that there had never been so much damage to the club in a single evening. But he didn't mind, he made his money, and I guess we did ourselves.
  7. Great comments on Scott McCarl CD

    Bernie...You have revealed many of your secret stash items and amazingly enough, you still have many more nuggets to offer...
  8. Raspberries...Where’s Eric?

    Good job digging Kirk...I guess that all you kids that were members here at that time, knew about this gig...I think I joined this board a little later and never knew anything about this other than stumbling across the lp once...Now, I have 3 missions!!!...Get another copy of the recording, find a copy of the video, and take lessons in “chick magnetization” from James...
  9. Check out this sight and click on the various links...Tons of info on EC 45’ s releases...Formats, import covers, international releases, charting positions, comments, reviews, etc...Lots to explore... http://www.45cat.com/artist/eric-carmen
  10. Raspberries...Where’s Eric?

    Does anybody have this bootleg lp?...I had it once either lp or cassette, busted it somehow and never ran across it again...From what I remember, I think it was a “live” concert featuring a combination of Raspberries in their 2 Configurations...No Eric though...McCarl was the lead singer and sound quality was not too good...
  11. Good Review of Fresh

    I don’t think this was ever posted here... Fresh Raspberries | Capitol 11123 Released: December 1972 Chart Peak: #36 Weeks Charted: 16 I always held that the next revitalization of pop music would be heralded by a resurgence of interest in the mid-'60s, but I couldn't have imagined a year ago that things would have come so fast. The old songs are not being reworked as much as I'd hoped (yet), but stylistically it might as well be 1965 as far as a large and growing number of groups are concerned. What amazes me most is that nobody has said, "hey, knock off that corny stuff -- it sounds just like the Beatles!" The public is accepting it at face value, welcoming its enthusiasm and unabashed non-heaviness like the breath of fresh air it is to today's stale, inbred rock scene. I'll be damned, it looks as if kids really do know what's good for 'em after all. The new Raspberries album, which should've been called Beatles '65, is the first successful LP in what has already become a new genre. Raspberries seems to have stepped into the spot left by Badfinger's mysterious withdrawal, and while the latter group had more originality and greater potential, it's actions that count and Raspberries has been doing a lot lately. It may be only coincidence that Eric Carmen bears an uncanny resemblance to Paul McCartney (vocally, that is; he ain't nearly as cute), but it's an advantage they put to the best, and worst, possible use. At best it reinforces the listener's subconscious association of them with the Beatles, which has probably helped sell a lot of records. At worst, where he is allowed to fall into the same self-indulgent histrionics that characterized the real Paul toward the end, I am merely reminded of why I never really cared for the last four Beatles albums. "I Reach For the Light" is the chief offender in this regard, but fortunately it's located at the end of side one and can be easily skipped. And the rest of the side is so brilliant that you can hardly complain about the inconvenience of getting up to make the rejection. It opens with their new single "I Wanna Be With You" which blends with a dash of "One Fine Day" to make perhaps their most delightfully ingenious song yet. Ringo steps forward to sing the next one, "Goin' Nowhere Tonight," a more relaxed song with a country feel that, while kinda weak, is still enjoyable. He's not the greatest singer, but the girls all feel sorry for him. It's followed by Paul's solo number, an intense ballad with strings that builds through intricate harmonies to a soaring climax. Very effective. "Every Way I Can," Dave Smalley's only solo composition, is basically a filler, but it rocks and is fun to listen to anyway. "Nobody Knows" is not the first song on this album to send me shuffling through Beatles albums looking for the song I was sure it sounded just like. Like all the rest, I couldn't find it. The hooks are placed so insidiously that you're never quite sure your memory isn't playing tricks. It's mostly the guitar riffs than gnaw at my mind. The next song starts with one I could swear was from one of the Vee Jay records. The only solution is to play this side between Something New and A Hard Day's Night, and not pay attention. It sounds great that way. The last two songs are interesting. "If You Change Your Mind" delves into Paul's Abbey Road period, like the Wackers did on their last album, and "Drivin' Around" is, of all things, a Beach Boys routine straight out of Heroes and Villains. The first verse mentions getting out of school, driving in cars with tape decks blasting, and taking girls to the beach under the hot sun. When it comes to synthesizing ambience, these guys are real pros. This sort of thing opens all sorts of avenues that it would be great to see Raspberries pursue in future recordings. Why limit themselves to the Beatles, after all? In fact, such a move may be to their benefit in more ways than one. I haven't seen any other reviews yet, but it's hard to believe the critics will sit still for an album as overly derivative as this. The fact that it's simply fun to do songs like this should not be ignored, and by fooling around with other, related styles, I think Raspberries could better put across this side of their intent. If what they are trying to do can be accepted as valid in the first place, maybe then people will listen closely enough to realize that Raspberries songs are, beyond any stylistic considerations, really quite superior by any criteria of pop songwriting, and that this album is every bit as enjoyable as the classic Beatles albums. Maybe they didn't invent the style, but their work within it has been pretty nearly equal to that of the Masters. And being as good as the Beatles is, when you think about it, quite an accomplishment. — Greg Shaw, Phonograph Record, 11/72. Bonus Reviews Nostalgia Squad loves these guys -- supposedly, they reincarnate the halycon days of the pre-psychedelic mid-'60s, when rock was simple, happy music sung by harmonizing foursomes in mod clothes. Only thing is, that music used to keep us humming all day, and after listening to this for a month all I remember is three songs: "Let's Pretend," "I Wanna Be with You," and a remarkable Beach Boys takeoff that has tape decks in it. Whatever happened to Gerry and the Pacemakers, anyway? B- — Robert Christgau, Christgau's Record Guide, 1981. The second best of four albums issued by the band, with "I Wanna Be With You," "If You Change Your Mind," and "Drivin' Around" as highlights amid some overall incredibly superb rock craftsmanship. The band's sound is overall more confident and more powerful. * * * * — Bruce Eder, The All-Music Guide to Rock, 1995.
  12. GREAT Starting Over LP Review

    Graded on a Curve: The Raspberries, Starting Over BY MICHAEL H. LITTLE | SEPTEMBER 23, 2013 It’s a miracle that anyone survives adolescence. And I’m not talking about drugs or driving 110 mph while on drugs or any of the other healthy activities normal teens engage in—no, I’m talking about potentially lethal sperm build-up. Speaking just for myself, I was a lusus naturae of unsated lust, and often found myself leering at vacuum cleaners. One day I discovered that my skull was producing an oily discharge, and it took a physician to inform me that I was literally secreting sperm through the follicles of my hair. It was a lonely and demeaning condition, but fortunately I had The Raspberries. They were more than just the greatest power pop band ever—they were the Masters and Johnson of Rock. No other rock band has ever given more eloquent voice to the victims of adolescent hormonal overload. In such ardent and urgent songs as “Go All the Way,” “Tonight,” “I Wanna Be With You,” “Ecstasy,” and “Let’s Pretend,” The Raspberries spoke to the only subject that really mattered to poon-crazed teens like me—namely getting some, and preferably tonight. The Raspberries formed in Cleveland, Ohio in 1970, the year after the Cuyahoga River caught fire: an ill omen in hindsight, for despite their polished Beatles and Mod-influenced sound, irresistible melodies, arresting guitar hooks, and heavenly vocal harmonies, The Raspberries never scored a No. 1 hit on the singles or album charts before breaking up in 1975. The band’s first single, 1972’s brilliant “Go All the Way,” rose all the way to the No. 5 spot. They were never to come as close to the top of the pops again. While The Raspberries’ first three albums (1972’s Raspberries and Fresh, and 1973’s Side 3) contain all of the odes to teen lust the band is most famous for, I have always preferred their farewell LP, 1974’s Starting Over. Disappointing sales of Side 3 led to the replacement of bassist Dave Smalley and drummer Jim Bonfanti by Scott McCarl and Michael McBride, respectively, and McBride’s Keith Moon-like drumming in particular lent the band a much harder kick. Starting Over also has a slightly—and I do mean slightly—scruffier sound than its predecessors, and the combination of McBride’s drum pummel and less glossy production gives the album a sound that is more power than pop. Starting Over opens with a bang in the form of “Overnight Sensation,” that brilliant song—it’s been on my Top 10 list since I was 16—about wanting a “big hit record/One that everybody’s got to know.” “Overnight Sensation” is a marvel from its pretty introductory piano interlude to its false fade-out, which is followed by some barbaric drum crash and the band singing, “Want a hit record, yeah” and “Number one” for what seems like infinity. “Overnight Sensation” may well be the only song Carmen ever truly wrote from the heart: “Well I know it sounds funny/But I’m not in it for the money, no/I don’t need no reputation/And I’m not in it for the show/I just want a hit record, yeah/Wanna hear it on the radio.” Chock full of insider lingo (“Well if the program director don’t pull it/It’s time to get back the bullet”), the song’s most sublime—and innovative—moment comes when the song suddenly sounds as if it’s emanating from a tinny transistor radio, only to be drawn back into full stereo sound by the crash of McBride’s drums. That moment has always given me shivers—it’s the sound of Carmen’s imagining his dream come true—and the fact that Carmen was never see it come to fruition only lends the song an added poignancy. The first three songs of Starting Over constitute a sort of mini-concept LP about the dreams and tribulations of playing in a rock’n’roll band. As for the great “Play On,” it’s a song about the hardships of life on the road. Wally Bryson’s stinging guitar (including an excellent solo), the rock-solid drumming of McBride, and some fantastic vocal harmonies form the perfect backdrop for newbie Scott McCarl’s urgent vocals: “It’s a hard life but you play it for laughs/It’s a cold-hearted business keep away from the trap/And your fingers on your throat get sore/But they’re out there beggin’ for some more.” Throw in a wonderfully melodic chorus, one very cool bridge, and even a Paul McCartney-like scream, and what you’ve got is a tune so catchy even Spiro Agnew would have been hard pressed to resist dancing to it. The final song of the band’s mini-trilogy is the punch-to-the-face that is “Party’s Over.” A surprisingly rough-edged pub rocker in the tradition of Rod Stewart and The Faces, it rejects long-time producer Jimmy Ienner’s slick studio sheen in favor of a tougher, punchier sound. Opening with a rock steady beat by McBride—including cowbell!—“Party’s Over” is a showcase for McBride’s powerhouse drumming, Carmen’s inspired honky-tonk piano playing, and Bryson’s raunchy guitar riffs. As for Bryson’s vocals, they’re positively inspired. He practically shouts out the lyrics, from the time-to-get-serious chorus (“Ain’t it a shame the party’s over/Yeah, we couldn’t keep fooling round/Ain’t it a shame the party’s over/Yeah, we’ve got to keep our feet on the ground”) to the great “My old lady don’t see a lot of love/But my guitar, I give it all it can get.” And he totally manhandles the lines, “So I’m older and brighter/And a bad criticizer/And I’m crazy but I don’t give a shit.” Call it what you will, “Party’s Over” puts paid forever to The Raspberries’ rep—established during its early days, when the boys wore matching raspberry suits and sang all those songs about going all the way while the little girls swooned—as a bubblegum act. “I Don’t Know What I Want” is both a hard rocker about teen confusion and—how do I say this politely?—a full-fledged ripoff of the Who, and “Won’t Get Fooled Again” in particular. I dare anyone to tell me they can tell the difference between Moon and Townshend and McBride and Bryson in the song’s opening. Aren’t those Townshend’s windmill power chords? Isn’t that Moon’s carefully controlled caterwaul on drums? That said, I don’t care whether the song amounts to homage or pure theft, because McBride’s virtuoso din and Bryson’s monster power chords bring out the beast in Carmen, who practically screams the final line of the chorus (“’Cause I don’t know what I want/I don’t know what I want/I don’t know what I want/BUT I WANT IT NOW!”) and in general delivers one of the loudest and most impassioned performances of his entire career. Unfortunately, “I Don’t Know What I Want” is followed by McCarl’s bathetic ballad “Rose Coloured Glasses.” A heavily orchestrated slice of pure pop treacle sung by McCarl in a wimpy voice that kinda makes you want to sock him in the kisser and say, “Don’t sing like that,” “Rose Coloured Glasses” is unpalatable, unseemly, and easily the low point of an otherwise great album, although someone (probably the same people who love Eric Carmen’s “All By Myself”) must like it because it’s ended up on several Raspberries “best of” compilations. Its sole good feature is Carmen’s lush piano, but having given it some thought I think the only way to redeem “Rose Coloured Glasses” from utter mediocrity would be to take it to a good body shop and outfit it with a new melody, a new vocalist, new lyrics, and a 5.0-liter, dry-sump, flex-fuel-capable V8 with twin turbos engine for good measure. “All Through The Night” is best described as a tasty draught of “Faces Lite.” A crowd-pleasing bar-room boogie featuring Chuck Berry-inspired guitar by McCarl, Stewart-tinged vocals and honky-tonk piano by Carmen, and a great horn section, “All Through the Night” is a more slickly produced (its only shortcoming) and somewhat friendlier take on Rod the Mod’s “Stay With Me.” Eric doesn’t tell his one-night stand to “Get down/Get up/Get out” like Rod does, but in the great chorus he does let his her know she’ll be traveling by thumb come daylight: “All through the night/If you play your hand just right/You’re gonna know my bed/Take my head/And hitchhike home in the morning.” And his interest in his bed partner ends at orgasm: “Now that I’ve already had ya/I’m gettin’ bored with the idle chat/’Bout the place you live, what you do all day/Well honey, it doesn’t matter, no.” Eric, you cad. You should be ashamed of yourself. Both for your inexcusably boorish behavior and for allowing Ienner to buff the rough edges off what might otherwise have been a truly great rock song. The Who, The Faces, and on “Crusin’ Music” The Beach Boys—there was nobody, it seems, those shameless Raspberries wouldn’t burgle blind if they thought it might score them a hit. Which is one of the things I like about them. A lightweight but catchy salute to that band of surf-loving All-American boys—who all went crazy in their own ways, with Brian becoming convinced his songs could start fires and Dennis inviting the entire Manson Family to stay in his home—“Cruisin Music” is pleasant enough with its exquisite harmonies, Carmen’s amiable vocals, and nice bridge, but when it comes to cruisin’ music I’ll take The Modern Lovers’ “Roadrunner”—or Grand Funk’s “We’re an American Band”—over The Beach Boys, or “Crusin’ Music” for that matter, any day. And you can add The Small Faces, and their “Tin Soldier” in particular, to that list of blatant cops with “I Can Hardly Believe Your Mine.” But Jeff Beck rip or not, “I Can Hardly Believe You’re Mine” is one of the finest songs The Raspberries ever recorded. It alternates relatively quiet verses sung by Carmen with big, impassioned choruses that never fail to bring a smile to my face, thank to McBride’s barbaric drum pummel, Bryson’s divinely inspired power chords, and the band’s harmonies, which are more shouted than sung. “I Can Hardly Believe You’re Mine” is the perfect combination of sweetness and brute force, and Carmen’s vocals—which grow increasingly urgent as the song goes on, culminating in the moment when he sings, “Touch my soul, hol, hol, hol, hol”—are nothing less than brilliant. “Cry” is a Beatlesesque tune in the same vein as “I Can Hardly Believe You’re Mine.” Scott McCarl sings the verses—adding a nice McCartneyesque vocal twist to the words “the way I do”—to the accompaniment of a quietly strummed guitar and some delicious vocal harmonies, then the choruses explode, with the whole band singing, “Never thought I’d never see the day/I’d be happy to set you free/But you made a fool out of me/Now you’re crying, “baby, take me back” while McBride slaps the hell out of his drums and Bryson tosses in some really snazzy guitar riffs. He then proceeds to play a brilliant solo, and the band does the whole thing over again, before Carmen brings the show to a close with a nimble little run on the piano. “Hands On You” is both Starting Over’s secret weapon and most surprising song—indeed, it’s the most improbable tune in The Raspberries’ entire songbook. An impromptu and hilariously lewd studio lark credited to Bryson and McCarl, “Hands On You” opens with some roughly strummed guitar, a flourish of trumpet, and much laughter and idle chatter. Bryson and McCarl then sing, “How I wish I had my hands on you/Always want to have my hands on you/Just can’t wait to have my hands on you/Bring your friend, she’s welcome too” while the folks in the studio—and it sounds like there were a lot of people in that studio—continue to giggle and chatter away. Then comes a rather wasted-sounding acoustic guitar solo followed by a “Here it comes” and then a shout of “Everybody!” at which point the entire studio sings, “Here we go, I got my hands on you/Take it slow, I got my hands on you/Down below, I got my hands on you/Where’s your friend, I want her too” then cracks up, with somebody adding a refrain of the final line in a very silly voice. It’s one of my favorite songs on Starting Over because it demonstrates something no one would have guessed—The Raspberries not only had a sense of humor, but they had it in them to let their hair down and play it loose. Album closer “Starting Over" is the prettiest song on Starting Over, but not so cloying that it sets off my schmaltz alarm. It features Eric Carmen at his most drippingly romantic, some very Elton John piano, and a big orchestral backdrop, not to mention a fantastic bridge that includes some fine trumpet work. The chorus is a thing of beauty and a joy forever, with Carmen singing, “Though I am starting over under cloudy skies/I say hello to love I’m seeing through different eyes/And if I had a chance to make one wish/And know it would come true/I’d start all over with you.” It’s a salute to the perfect tone of “Starting Over” that nothing, not the Bernie Taupin Award winning couplet (“Buried my romantic inclination deep inside of me/Till I fell for you immoderately”) or Carmen’s surprising recourse to obscenity (“Used to feel so fucking optimistic till she said goodbye/Never thought a love like ours could die”) in the song’s opening couplet can ruin it. Starting Over marked a new maturity for The Raspberries, both in its turn towards more adult concerns and in its subtle move away from the band’s trademark super-polished sound. Unfortunately Starting Over charted so dismally it basically killed the band, and hence we’ll never know where its advances might have led them. All we do know is that a solo Eric Carmen came tantalizingly close to finally scoring that No. 1 hit he so desperately wanted—while selling his soul in the process—with such sappy mooncalves as 1976’s “All By Myself,” 1987’s “Hungry Eyes” (of Dirty Dancing infamy), and 1988’s “Make Me Lose Control.” Meanwhile Wally Bryson joined The Rascals’ Dino Vanelli to form the feckless Fotomaker, which critic Robert Christgau duly dubbed a “dupergroup,” adding, “Beat the rush—boycott now, before anybody has even heard of them.” Fortunately history has been kind to The Raspberries, and their magnificent power-pop anthems have gone on to influence almost as many bands as The Velvet Underground. But that’s not why I’ll always love them. I’ll always love them because in my moment of greatest need, when I was a perpetually tumescent ticking time bomb of testosterone-fueled lust who seemed fated to go to the grave with a hard-on, The Raspberries were there to let me know I wasn’t alone. “Go All The Way” was more than just a song to me; it was the perfect expression of my single-minded focus in life, namely to get to first base, then second, then third, and then home, home, home with a perfect hook slide—home and smiling and raising my cap to a madly cheering crowd, gloriously limp at last. GRADED ON A CURVE: A-
  13. What a incredible collection of stuff...Some Mccartney stuff I’ve never seen... https://www.google.com/search?q=Paul+McCartney+Greatest+Hits,+Volume+2&hl=en-us&client=safari&tbm=isch&tbs=rimg:CSvQEnBd0bqgImBiBJyAVL4JDwfeoNImcb7OJXOhjuQDmN-28fRnk6U9sQHswdIoJixPdmPvA5_1Bx6TZ9rZJYXoxkUYxNq59HdOKbNewwARPdW_1VLzabWFiV1v4kwWbVH2oMsHxwMjkZGU4qEgliBJyAVL4JDxHOHUEZEn3rIioSCQfeoNImcb7OETmV3n79MOL7KhIJJXOhjuQDmN8RC94irGuKrUoqEgm28fRnk6U9sRHRUIBUL8biKioSCQHswdIoJixPEW5UJ-JBa0-kKhIJdmPvA5_1Bx6QReOk_1mnfgH6QqEgnZ9rZJYXoxkRFTgh_1B-NF7yCoSCUYxNq59HdOKEXjpP5p34B-kKhIJbNewwARPdW8RblQn4kFrT6QqEgnVLzabWFiV1hFF_11HE9wTCvioSCf4kwWbVH2oMEfyzTNzUquVXKhIJsHxwMjkZGU4Rf9vETwmAznU&tbo=u&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjxn5PR_tzlAhUjUt8KHYzdCFsQrnZ6BAgBEBY&biw=502&bih=644&dpr=2#imgrc=_
  14. Bonfanti/Smalley Charity Record

  15. Bonfanti/Smalley Charity Record

    Wow...Kirk, you are quick...