I'd never heard of The Rave-Ups prior to finding a sealed copy of the record. I was out of town and had popped in at a record store while the wife was clothes shopping. This happens a lot. It was a strange little shop that was squeezed into an alley entrance, and the stock was piled into the corners in a system only the owner seemed to understand. Despite it being cramped, it was fun poking around. I didn't find anything on my list, but the owner seemed determined to find something for me ... and he would rummage around while we were chatting about stuff, and he'd pop his head up occasionally and show me something he thought I might like.
He managed to get a fair pile going, so I figured it was best that I just look through what he was stacking up. He had managed to get my measure pretty quickly, as most of the records he'd pulled out were from artists I was aware of, and thankfully I had a lot of what he was showing me, but there were a couple that caught my attention. This sealed copy of The Rave-Ups being one I was curious about. You can't really get much of a sense from the cover, but it felt alternative and artsy, and it was from 1988, so I figured it was it was likely going to fall into that sweet spot I enjoyed so much.
I was a little worried about how much this was going to cost, as frankly his pricing seemed to be completely out to lunch, but we settled on $20 for the couple of things I wanted, which was a little more than I wanted to pay, but I told myself it was okay.
Being away from home when I get new stuff is always a pain in the ass. If something is new to me, I'll often try to avoid just looking up the band and streaming it before I get home. I met myself in the middle and decided I'd just Google the band. There wasn't a lot out there, which made sense, as they were only around for a few years and in that time released three albums. Now, as often happens, the band would reunite and release an album called Tomorrow in 2022 that I'll likely stream.
- Town + Country (1985)
- The Book of Your Regrets (1988)
- Chance (1990)
Somewhere along the line, the band got on the radar of John Hughes through Molly Ringwald, whose sister was dating Jimmer Podrasky, the band's lead singer. Through that association, the band would be name-checked in the movie Sixteen Candles, where they were scribbled in pen on Molly Ringwald's binder. Then the band would appear on screen in Pretty in Pink. Now, to be fair, I was already in my mid-20s, and those teenage coming of age movies, aside from The Breakfast Club, weren't really my thing. Although those soundtracks did have some great tunes. Then there was St. Elmo's Fire ... but Molly wasn't in that, so it doesn't count. (To my dismay, Elmo wasn't either. Too bad. Would have been a way better movie.)
So now I was kind of curious as to what these guys sounded like. The music was an interesting blend of rock and what would eventually be known as Americana. Podrasky has an interesting and distinctive voice, and I liked a lot of his phrasing on the songs. The guitar work by Terry Wilson was really tasty, and while there was a lot of chorus (it was the late '80s, it was practically mandatory), his tone was nice and crisp. Not a lot of unnecessary adornment or processing. Essentially clean and crunchy. There was a wonderful swagger to his playing that really served the songs. The rhythm section of Timothy Jimenez on drums and Tommy Blatnik on bass kept everything anchored.
Now, I'll admit that it took a couple of spins before things started to gel. I had to remind myself that while this was new to me, this was not new. My first impression was pretty positive, but I was looking for those wow moments, and they didn't seem to be coming. Then around the second or third time around, I started to get it, and the songs just opened up. "When the End Comes Before" is probably my favourite song on the album. It kicks off Side Two, and the groove is just infectious. It's too bad there just wasn't that one killer song that could have pulled the album along with it.
Who knows whether or not this would have caught on back in the day. I suspect there was room for this. Even John Mellencamp had moved in this direction by the late '80s, and there were a lot of alternative bands who were mining this musical vein. It's always a case of woulda, coulda, shoulda. Like so many things, it's all about timing ... and a generous dollop of luck.
This album holds up remarkably well, and frankly, it's as good as any of the alternative Americana that's being released today. The band wisely kept the sounds organic. The use of accordion, mandolin, fiddle and banjo just add to the charm.
Having Molly Ringwald write your name on her binder probably didn't hurt, right? Then again, it probably didn't help either. In keeping with the theme, I'll end with a quote from Sixteen Candles, "It's really human of you to listen to all my bullshit."
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