Kicks Keep Getting Easy to Find

Delving into Paul Revere and the Raiders’ underrated late Sixties sounds

Hello and welcome to Painted Dayglo Smiles. What we have here is my first attempt at a music blog almost forty years after I began writing about rock ‘n’ roll in local publications in my hometown of Montreal. Back in 1985, I co-edited the garage fanzine Lost Mynds and raved about both new Montreal groups like the Gruesomes, as well as ‘60s favorites. Lost Mynds lasted for three issues, but I also contributed to KRAK, the newspaper put out by CKUT-FM, the college radio station on which I hosted a weekly show for over a decade. It was called The Subterranean Jungle, and it was on this program that I had the pleasure of playing everyone from Bo Diddley to the Ramones, by way of many a group from my fave musical decade, the Sixties. For a taste of several of my mid-late ‘90s shows, I invite you to click here: www.flippedoutphil.com

But back to writing. In the Nineties, I wrote articles and columns for such zines as Feline Frenzy, Gravy, and Fish Piss, and co-edited another publication called Popaganda for its one and only issue. Although I was the last thing from a prolific writer, I always enjoyed putting pen to paper or typing on a keyboard to express my thoughts and opinions about bands old and new. In my teens, I had devoured rock journalism and criticism in magazines such as Creem and Trouser Press. Later, I discovered the world of fanzines unbeholden to commercial interests and put out by enthusiastic music lovers who wanted to spread the word about their obsessions. Kicks, Ugly Things, Outasite, and, the granddaddy of them all, Bomp!, were some of the most inspiring of these rags.

I’ve also loved to devour books on rock history like those penned by Nik Cohn, Nick Tosches, Richie Unterberger, Mike Stax, Domenic Priore, and Jon Savage, to name six great writers off the top of my head. Over the years, magazines such as Mojo and Shindig! have also made for delightful reading. And that brings us right up to the present when I recently figured that this might be a good time to write my musings on some of my favorite ‘60s artists, be they legendary or obscure. The goal, my music-loving readers, is to remind you about - or turn you on to - musicians whose records from almost sixty years ago continue to provide the listener with a strong dopamine hit or, in other words, a big fat buzz! Garage, folk rock, freakbeat, sunshine pop, psychedelia, film and TV soundtracks, and much more will be the order of the day.

And so, let’s kick things off with a look at the late ‘60s material by one of my most beloved American combos of the era, the very popular yet somehow underrated Paul Revere and the Raiders.

I myself admit to being guilty of underestimating post 1966 releases by this band of wonderful goofballs when I wrote an appreciation of the Raiders in the last issue of Lost Mynds in 1989. In the article, I was basically dismissive of the albums they released from mid-1967 to mid-69 and thought that they had basically lost their garage edge. I must confess that, at the time, I was something of a ‘60s punk purist, shunning songs which I thought had too much embroidery on them. “Stripped down and souped-up” was my mantra of the day and god forbid a group dared to show too much of their soft side on their material! Which was indeed the case with Paul Revere and the Raiders on many of their 1967 - 1969 recordings.

But I eventually began to change my tune, literally, and started to embrace poppier, more layered and produced songs. And, since the early 2000s, mid-late Sixties soft rock (call it sunshine pop, baroque pop, orchestral pop, what have you) has been smack dab in my wheelhouse. Late ‘60s Turtles, Association, Beach Boys, Mark Eric, Grapefruit, and Harmony Grass, for starters, have provided me with hours of listening pleasure over the years. You can expect to read forthcoming entries on some of these artists here on Painted Dayglo Smiles.

But returning to the Raiders, a major lineup change in 1967 saw the departure of longtime bassist, vocalist, and songwriter Phil “Fang” Volk, drummer Mike “Smitty” Smith, and lead guitarist Jim “Harpo” Valley, a relatively recent recruit. They were replaced by Freddy Weller (lead guitar), Charlie Coe (bass), and Joe Correro Jr. (drums). There was another important change as well. From then on, their records were officially credited to Paul Revere and the Raiders Featuring Mark Lindsay.

Now the group didn’t only owe their fame and fortune to the big hits they amassed from ‘65 to ‘67. Television also played a large role in their popularity as American teens were exposed to Paul Revere and co. charmingly clowning around and lip-synching their songs on ABC TV’s Where the Action Is. This Dick Clark-produced show was broadcast on late afternoons Monday to Friday from mid-65 to early-67 and was, to a large extent, hosted by the Raiders who were joined by some of the major hit makers of the era, also lip-synching their top 40 tunes. James Brown, Question Mark and the Mysterians, the Kinks, and the Yardbirds were among the dozens of acts who appeared on Action, pretending to perform at various outdoor locations and accompanied by go-go dancers struttin’ their stuff.

Paul Revere and the Raiders stopped being the house band of this cool program in 1966. Action was cancelled the following year, but, fortunately, it was Dick Clark to the rescue with another TV series aimed at music loving teens: Happening ‘68. A weekly affair which saw a short-lived daily spinoff, the show was hosted by Paul Revere and the group’s charismatic frontman, Mark Lindsay. They were often accompanied by their fellow Raiders to mime along to their late ‘60s hits until Happening ended its run in late ‘69. By then, Paul McCartney lookalike Keith Allison had joined the band, replacing Charlie Coe on bass.

Okay, now what about the Raiders’ music that the viewership of Happening heard on the show? Well, even if the Monkees had been occupying the place that the Raiders had formerly held in the hearts of teenyboppers, Mark Lindsay’s combo still retained a bubblegummy reputation among serious music lovers who lauded groups such as Cream, Jefferson Airplane, Vanilla Fudge, and the Band. And, to some extent, that reputation was deserved when the Raiders’ late ‘60s hits like “Cinderella Sunshine” and “Mr. Sun, Mr. Moon” are considered. Years ago, I would’ve dismissed these two songs as fluffy, but today, I find them irresistible ear candy, particularly “Cinderella Sunshine” with the fuzz box-powered guitar all over the tune.

But I’m getting ahead of myself a bit. The last Paul Revere album to feature a number of (great) garage cuts was The Spirit of ‘67, released in November 1966. After that came the major lineup shakeup, followed by their August 1967 LP, Revolution! For the most part, with the main exception of the top 10 hit “Him or Me - What’s It Gonna Be?”, teenbeat tunes were out and such pensive compositions like “I Hear a Voice” and “Upon Your Leaving” were in. These are fine songs, as are “I Had a Dream” and the superb “Gone Movin’ On”, but the Revolution! tracks I particularly wish to highlight are the garage pop “Moreen” and the slightly-delic “Tighter”.

In August ‘68 came the release of Something Happening, which, like its predecessor, combined introspective material with more upbeat songs like the “Paperback Writer” influenced “Too Much Talk”. The 45 version of that tune barely scraped into the top 20. But it deserved a higher placement than that and its flipside was the equally catchy theme to Happening ‘68. “Get Out of My Mind” is also a standout cut from the album, but, along with “Too Much Talk”, I also highly rate the psych-infused ballad “Burn Like a Candle” and the driving “Don’t Take it So Hard” which made it to the lower reaches of the top 40.

In passing, although I find Paul Revere and the Raiders’ album covers from this period to be perfectly fine, they weren’t, as you can see, exactly breaking new ground nor were they up to the creative standards of LP sleeves of groups like the Stones, the Who, the Airplane, Buffalo Springfield, and even their Columbia Records label mates, the Byrds. Maybe that contributed to the Raiders being perceived mainly as a singles group, but it was also readily apparent that the Raiders weren’t amassing the big hits anymore. “Cinderella Sunshine” was, in my opinion, strong enough to merit a showing higher than #58 on the Billboard charts after its release in March 1969. That number certainly was a highlight of the group’s tenth album that came out a month earlier: Hard ‘N’ Heavy (With Marshmallow).

Well, at least it wasn’t subtitled (With Bubblegum)! Not that I would’ve minded; calling a Sixties group or song ‘bubblegum’ can, for me, be a compliment and not an insult. Hard ‘N’ Heavy, like the previous album, was somewhat of a mixed bag, but, along with “Cinderella Sunshine” and “Mr. Sun, Mr. Moon”, has at least two other outstanding tracks: the tender ballad “Trishalana” and the tough rocker “Time After Time”. The latter benefited from a memorable guitar riff and an extended ending that still managed to be non-self-indulgent.

“Time After Time” may very well be my favorite Raiders’ deep album cut of this era in their discography and it was actually adapted for a commercial (with different lyrics) to promote the Plymouth Judge muscle car!

If only contemporary car commercials were nearly that cool! And, by the way, I do love the group’s gimmicky Revolutionary War uniforms, as unfashionable as they were during the height of the ‘60s counterculture and as corny as they were perceived to be. However, when the time came for the group to pose for the cover photo of their last album of the decade, they ditched the uniforms for some pretty stylish duds.

Alias Pink Puzz from July 1969 was an even greater attempt at musical maturity than their three previous LPs, but don’t let that scare you especially if you’re a fan of the Raiders’ mid-decade garage prime. And when it came to blistering garage rock, the album did feature a pounding number that was the band’s final big hit of the Sixties: “Let Me”. The tune was made up of an unrelenting guitar barrage, not to mention Mark Lindsay’s gutsy lusty vocals which were as strong as those on earlier killer tunes like “Just Like Me” and “Hungry”.

A word about the idea behind the album’s title. The Raiders felt like passing themselves off as another band named Pink Puzz, believe it or not. Promo copies were given to underground FM radio stations in the hopes that the DJs would give them a spin. Play them they did, until they discovered the ruse and ended up dropping the LP like a hot potato. Which was a real shame as, alongside “Let Me”, Alias Pink Puzz includes a couple of numbers which showed off the group at its introspective contemplative best. “Frankfurt Side Street”, about streetwalkers in that German city, is an atmospheric melodic gem. And “Here Comes the Pain” is actually a musical pleasure as well as a lovely heartfelt ballad.

The rest of the album was decent enough except for its worse cut, “Hey Babro”. The less said about it the better. Alias Pink Puzz charted respectably, and Paul Revere and the Raiders went on to some continued success, including their biggest ever hit, “Indian Reservation”, in the early ‘70s. Later, Mark Lindsay left the group mid-decade. But I think I’ll leave this story of the Raiders at that, except to mention three other releases from the Sixties. First, the October ‘67 album, A Christmas Present…And Past, which is pretty disposable other than its best cut, “Rain, Sleet, Snow”. Secondly, the 1968 LP, Goin’ to Memphis, which was for all intents and purposes a Lindsay solo effort despite being credited to the group: his attempt at Memphis-styled soul with session musicians backing him. Along with the Christmas LP, it’s the least essential album in the Raiders late ‘60s catalog as far as I’m concerned. (Although one of its original compositions, “Peace of Mind”, is an enjoyable listen.)

Then there’s an offbeat single that dates back to late 1965. Although it doesn’t particularly fit into this overview of Paul Revere and the Raiders’ often overlooked late ‘60s material, it’s such a doozy that I had to mention it: a Columbia Records Special Products 7-inch single consisting of the tunes “SS 396” and “Corvair Baby”. These two numbers were recorded to promote two different models of sporty Chevrolet cars. Even if the songs differed from the Raiders’ usual sound and came off instead like a punky Beach Boys or Hondells, they were, and remain, immediately infectious. The single makes for a cool curio in their discography.

And so ends my attempt to redress my neglect regarding this fabulous group’s late Sixties output some thirty-five years after my first look at Paul Revere and the Raiders in the Lost Mynds zine. Mark Lindsay and co. have yet to be inducted in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but maybe they should consider that a badge of honor than a source of shame. All hail the Raiders!

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