Remembering the Raspberries, Part 1 of 4
One of the 1970s’ most beloved and influential bands is the subject of a new, all-star tribute project. Released August 12, Play On: A Raspberries Tribute features 37 artists paying homage to the power pop heroes who gave the world “Go All the Way,” “I Wanna Be With You,” “Overnight Sensation (Hit Record)” and other classics. Spearheaded by Raspberries superfan and biographer Ken Sharp, Play On includes Raspberries classics covered by high-profile names (Rick Springfield, The Bangles’ Vicki and Debbi Peterson, Marshall Crenshaw, The Lemon Twigs, John Waite, Lou Gramm and more) as well as underground and up-and-coming artists. What all of the recordings share in common is a displayed appreciation of the Raspberries’ music and legacy.
The Who’s Pete Townshend – a man who nearly always knows exactly what he’s doing – likely had no idea what he set in motion when he coined the term power pop. While he meant it as a way to describe The Who’s music circa 1967, the term came into widespread use as a shorthand to explain a signature sound of the ‘70s, albeit one informed by the Beatles and other giants of the era. And the Raspberries – the Cleveland, Ohio quartet launched in 1970 by guitarist Eric Carmen and drummer Jim Bonfanti – would be avatars of the power pop style.
Raspberries Ready
“We wanted to be the next Beatles; that was our goal,” Jim Bonfanti says today. “A pretty lofty goal, I might add.” The band’s origins lay in two popular Cleveland bands, Cyrus Erie and The Choir. Featuring Carmen, Cyrus Erie released a string of singles on Epic Records, highlighted by the very Beatles-influenced “Get the Message.” The band was among Cleveland’s most popular live acts, but none of the band’s records gained traction in the marketplace, and the group ran aground by the end of the ‘60s.
The Choir, on the other hand, found some measure of commercial success. Originally a garage rock band, the group scored a hit in several markets (albeit not nationally) with “It’s Cold Outside.” The lineup that recorded that song included Bonfanti and two other future Raspberries: Wally Bryson and Dave Smalley. Eric Carmen even auditioned for the band at one point. By 1968, though, Bryson and Smalley had left, and the Choir (still with Bonfanti) moved in a decidedly more progressive direction.
Carmen approached Bonfanti at the Choir’s final gig, suggesting they team up and start a new band. At that point, though, Bonfanti was discouraged with the music business. He recalls telling Carmen, “You know what? I’m hanging up my rock and roll shoes; I’m done.” But within a few months, the drummer realized he missed music, so he got back in touch. “I called up Eric, and we spent all summer of 1970 planning the band,” he says.
Hooky, concise songs were at the core of the Raspberries concept, but the idea included more than that. “One of the things was, ‘How are we going to look?’” Bonfanti recalls. He notes that at the time, rock bands often featured “long solos, long hair, scruffy dress.” The Raspberries, they decided, would be the exact opposite. “We’re going to have long hair, but it’s going to be clean-cut,” they decided. “We’re going to wear matching suits. And we won’t have long solos.” Carmen and Bonfnati knew that they would be sailing against the prevailing current, but they were determined. “All those things were calculated,” Bonfanti admits. “We wanted to stand out.”
From the start, the band steered clear of the bar circuit. They played quite a few high school dances, which allowed the group to stick to a comparatively civilized schedule. “Bar gigs were, at best, 9 to one a.m. or even 10 to 2 a.m.,” he notes. “The high school [shows] were 8 to 11. And they paid way more than any bar!” The Raspberries did play an occasional bar date, “but very few,” Bonfanti says. “Our goal was to write our own material and make records.”
As the band’s local fame grew, they landed a Sunday night residency at the Agora, playing for a $200 guarantee against half of the door receipts. Though such an arrangement placed all of the financial risk on the band – and nearly none on the club’s management – it proved to work in the Raspberries’ favor. “The first night we played there, we made $320,” Bonfanti recalls. That’s the equivalent of about $2,650 in today’s money. “Around the holidays, it was even better; we’d make $800, even $1200 on a Sunday night.”
Another regular gig for the band was at JB’s in Kent, 38 miles southeast of the Raspberries’ Cleveland home base. “It was like our Cavern,” Bonfanti says, likening the club to the Liverpool cellar where the Beatles got their start. “It was a freakin’ hole, but it was tremendous,” he says with a chuckle. The band went over so well at JB’s that when it came time to audition for record labels, they invited the record execs to see the onstage at JB’s.
