Rebel Rousers Meet the Gods

Rebel Rousers Meet the Gods

Cliff Bennett and the Rebel Rousers were a top British group when the Beatles were still beating around the back alleys of Hamburg — which means, of course, when being a “top British group” didn’t mean diddly-shit. At some vague point in history, Bennett tied up with Brian Epstein and, that not panning out, ended up with a new band that might have just enough British excess, with just enough Amerikan soul, to end up being the new Jeff Beck group or something like it. Specifically, Toe Fat.

For one thing, Toe Fat is with Rare Earth, which is Motown’s progressive label, or something of the sort. Frankly, it’s becoming clear that Motown and company don’t really know shit about white rock, except in the dreariest of fiscal forms. But with Toe Fat, they may finally have a respectable, entertaining hard rock band . . . and they do know how to promote records out there on Woodward Avenue.

But Cliff Bennett’s story goes back to the beginnings of the Motown explosion in Amerika, back to when the biggest thing happening in all of Her Majesty’s empire was Cliff Richard and Hank Marvin and company.“I’ve been playing rock and roll and soul music for seven years,” Bennett said, Cwith a group called the Rebel Rousers.”

The Rebel Rousers actually split up about three years ago, after what Cliff describes as a “punchout”. He then got a big band together and went towards that sort of soul but, as the years waned by, it became clear that he was ready to move toward “underground/progressive” music.

In 1965, though, when the Rebel Rousers were still together, Bennett was being managed by none other than Brian Epstein who, in Bennett’s words was a “cunt.” “We were supposed to come over with the Beatles to do Shea Stadium. Two days before he cancelled us out. Said he’d signed an Amerikan group, the Cyrkle, to save on expenses. They made 57,000 on that gig

and he signed up the Cyrkle to ‘save on expenses’.”44

Prior to that he’d done a tour with the Beatles, in Germany of all places. “I was sittin’ around backstage one night and I said to Paul, ‘How come you haven’t written a song for me yet?’ He’d been writing songs for everyone, the Stones and that, so I figured why not ask him? And he said that he’d just written one, ‘Got to Get You Into My Life’.”

“Paul produced that record as well. He also engineered it. He did things I’ve never seen anyone do before or since; he used condensers and limiters when I didn’t even know what those things were. After we finished the instrumental track, he said, let’s come in at 10 A.M. tomorrow and finish the vocal. And sure enough there he was, in his slippers and bathrobe because he just lives around the corner from the studio.”

The restraints imposed by the Rebel Rousers and the later big band forced Cliff into the more commercially tenable position of progressive rockdom. He formed a band with three ex-members of the Gods, a well-respected but little known British rock quartet.

They decided to call themselves Toe Fat, at their manager’s request (their management is still latter-day Epstein, the Robert Stigwood Organisation).

Befo-re splitting England, they recorded their second album, this one with the able assistance of Peter Green, late of Fleetwood Mac. Peter sent for Cliff to come to a session he was producing in London and later came over to do a track with Toe Fat. “He ended up playing for six hours and not only that, he helped produce the thing. At the end, that was the hard part, when we had to give him his session fee,” Bennett recalled.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t take it,” guitarist Allan Kendall said. “He said, ‘Give it to someone who really needs it.’ So I took it.”

The first album is an interesting melange of Amerikan rhythm and blues with Anglo-Saxon heavy. The Elton John composition “Bad Side of the Moon”, which was their initial English single, is undoubtedly the strongest composition on the whole album and pretty much representative of the group’s sound. Unlike the crash and bore of' so many hapless British lads, they seem to have the innate foresight to include a song or two among the set; particularly interesting is the old Coasters’ tune, “Just Like Me.”

So far, their Amerikan tour seems a success; Bill Graham liked them at the Fillmore where, Bennett claims, people were running up to him and exclaiming, “Fuck me man, you’re great!” And their album cover alone, with its fat toe people, is drawing raves and attention all over the map. Rare Earth just might have a group, at long last, that one could view with some measure of respect.