Review and video by Joel Patterson
The disembodied voice that came booming over the loudspeakers before the show was right up my alley. It encouraged me to, in fact, leave my cellphone ON, take out my camera, and in short, “Do whatever the fuck you want!” So I started to bootleg the show, and the results are here:
But I got bored after about the first seven minutes and twenty six seconds. I might not be the reporter to watch a reunion of pudgy, pot-bellied guys pretending to be the Rascals – even if they ARE the Rascals! There’s something inalterably pathetic about it. Extra-special for a group “formerly known as” the Young Rascals, eh? Scions of youth culture grown all haggard and bloated.
In pauses between the band performing onstage, a “television documentary” narrative with interviews explained the whole Rascals career and phenomenon, and then “artsy” photo and abstract color collages accompanied the songs they played. Nothing but young people, slim and slender dancers, in the vintage ’60s clips. By the end, a dozen people were up and swaying, and the half-full house (not half-empty!) was roaring in solidarity and joyous affirmation, a sea of white hair and balding heads.