Paul Revere and the Raiders

Story by Bill Kopp

In connection with the 2010 Collectors' Choice Music release of the 3CD compilation The Complete Columbia Singles [review here], I arranged a series of extensive, in-depth interviews with former members of 60s hitmakers Paul Revere and the Raiders. I was fortunate to gain insights from vocalist Mark Lindsay; bassist Phil "Fang" Volk; guitarists Jim "Harpo" Valley and Keith Allison; and Raiders manager Roger Hart. In a modest tribute to Raiders guitarist Drake Levin -- he passed away on July 4, 2009 -- I'd like to present this five-part Raiders feature. -- bk

"In a little town in Idaho, way back in '61..." So began the lyrics to the wryly autobiographical 1967 b-side "The Legend of Paul Revere." The song tells the story of how keyboardist-leader Paul Revere (his birth certificate reads Paul Revere Dick) found vocalist/sax player Mark Lindsay and recruited him into his group. Revere's group got its start a few years earlier, and Mark Lindsay actually joined in 1960. But unlike "sixty-one," that year doesn't rhyme with "fun." And ultimately, fun was the raison d'être for this group from the Pacific Northwest. Fun, delivered with kick-ass energy, and a bit of danger. As Revere told Ed Osborne (producer of the 2010 Raiders compilation The Complete Columbia Singles), "My band was bad. We had long-ass greasy hair and I wanted parents to say, 'My daughter's not going out with that guy.'"

An early single, "Like, Long Hair," charted, but whatever momentum that instrumental cut might have afforded the band stalled when Revere was drafted for military service. Revere claimed conscientious objector status and was instead assigned to a job as a cook in a mental institution.

Northwest Nights
When Revere's service was up, he rejoined the band, now based in Oregon. Word of the group's lively stage show caught the attention of Portland KISN-AM disc jockey Roger Hart. Hart recalls, "I was pretty much the Pied Piper of the town, doing the teen dances at the armories, skating rinks, anywhere we could find a floor to dance on. We started having live groups; we were inspired by the Wailers, out of Tacoma, Washington. My bank teller told me about Paul Revere and the Raiders, and I hired them to do a teen dance." Hart observes that though they were young, the group was already "mature; they had a little experience." He soon became the group's manager, and the "first order of business was to go into the studio and record a song that was driving the kids to the dance floor."

The group released a version of that song -- Richard Berry's "Louie, Louie" -- recorded within days of, and at the same studio as, the version by another regional group, the Kingsmen. The latter group, with access to better distribution than the self-released Raiders version, got the hit. By 1963 the Raiders' lineup included Mike "Smitty" Smith on drums, and Drake Levin on guitar. During this period the group's raw and largely R&B-flavored set list consisted mostly of covers. The Raiders' reputation grew on the strength of their raucous, high-energy live performances.

Mark Lindsay says that onstage, the Raiders had been "wearing collarless blazers, like any number of groups, quite frankly. Paul Revere and I were walking in downtown Portland one day, to pick up our dry cleaning. We happened to pass a costume shop, and in the window was a mannequin dressed in a three-cornered hat, Revolutionary coat and tights. I turned to Paul and said, 'You know, that's the way Paul Revere and the Raiders should dress!'" They rented the costumes and wore them for the second act of that evening's show at the Lake Oswego Armory. It was a one-night rental, "just for a gag," Lindsay says. But once onstage, "the whole tenor of the band changed. We were always crazy, but we became...insane." The next time they played in Lake Oswego, sans costume, "the kids crowded around us and asked, 'where are the outfits?'" From that point until the late sixties, the band always performed in costume.

Jim Valley -- then of the Viceroys – recalls first hearing of the group. “In ‘64 we played in a place in seaside Oregon. We were supposed to have eight hundred kids, and instead we had eighty. And we wondered what had happened, because our record ‘Granny’s Pad’ was a big hit down there. Someone told us, ‘there’s this group out of Portland; they’re called Paul Revere and the Raiders. They wear three-cornered hats, they’re wild and crazy, and the kids love ‘em.’ They had a thousand kids at the club up the street.”

Asked if the band ever worried that Revolutionary garb would keep them from being taken seriously, Lindsay says that in those pre-hit days, "our main stock in trade was our live shows. Whatever worked in a live show is what we wanted to do." He does note that "I don't think the Raiders will ever be voted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, because people don't take the music seriously. They forget that we had some pretty good rock and roll records."

The Raiders Take Los Angeles
As one of Columbia Records' earliest forays into rock music, the Paul Revere and the Raiders weren't initially shown much attention or respect by label head Mitch Miller. Manager Roger Hart notes that Miller "was on the Andy Williams -- Barbra Streisand side of things; that's where his focus was." Yet in a move somewhat unusual for the era, one side of the Raiders' major-label debut, Here They Come, featured the group in live performance. Produced by Bruce Johnston, Here They Come managed to capture the excitement of the Raiders' onstage set. The second side included studio cuts that maintained that energy level, and those tracks featured new bassist Phil "Fang" Volk. By 1965 the most celebrated Raiders lineup was in place.

Volk's entrance into the band had as much to do with his dancing prowess as his musical ability. Friends since childhood in Idaho, Volk and guitarist Drake Levin used to "tear up the dance floor," Volk says. "So we incorporated that, to excel in the band's showmanship. We added a lot of sophisticated choreography, while playing in the pocket." And rather than hiring an outside choreographer, the band relied on Volk and Levin to develop all of their patented moves.

The group migrated to Los Angeles and began a long and successful association with impresario Dick Clark. Clark launched a new daily TV program called Where the Action Is, and the Raiders were the "house band" for the show. For nearly two years the group would appear on television every weekday, lip-synching and clowning around in the manner of the Beatles' 1964 film A Hard Day's Night. "Hollywood put the group farther than anyone intended," notes Hart. To fans of a certain age, Paul Revere and the Raiders would provide the template of what a rock and roll band should look like, act like, and sound like.

The Raiders were considered for another TV project, but when that idea was fully developed it became The Monkees. "There was a feature that I had written and had given to ABC-TV," Hart recalls. "It found its way to the folks that put the Monkees together. ABC wasn't able to use my treatment -- about five crazy guys -- but the next thing you know, this little treatise called Madness became an ad in the Hollywood papers under the title 'Madness -- looking for actor-musicians.'"

Raiders vocalist Mark Lindsay notes that "the Monkees and the Raiders and the Beatles all drew from the same well, hearkening back to Marx Brothers-style slapstick comedy."

With Lindsay and producer Terry Melcher helming the studio, the group's sound was pushed in what was then a more pop-rock direction. Lindsay notes that "on the Complete Columbia Singles set, you can really hear the R&B influence on the early cuts. Then you can hear Terry kind of bending us into commercialism" with tracks like the hit "Just Like Me." Lindsay observes that "right about that period, we were rocking pretty hard," and he notes that the song has been cited as an example of protopunk. Hart says, "We had to make major adjustments from being a really tough band -- more like a Rolling Stones -- to really reach out to an entire nation. And with television, obviously our focus would be the teen fans. We had no great messages other than entertaining."

Speaking of the Rolling Stones, the Raiders shared a bill with them a number of times. In markets where the Raiders were more popular -- Seattle, Vancouver, San Francisco and other cities -- the Raiders were top-billed. "And this was around the time of '(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction,'" Volk emphasizes. "The Stones were pretty hot then, too."

If there was a formula to the singles -- many written by Lindsay and Melcher, several by outside composers -- it involved a driving arrangement that often used Volk's bass lines as what he calls "the hook of a lead instrument." Placed forward in the mix, the bass parts often provided a strong melodic (or sometimes countermelodic) element. That musical prominence, coupled with Volk's crowd-pleasing demeanor, made the bassist a focal point of the band. Hart recalls that by 1966, "Fang" was getting as much fan mail at 16 Magazine as fellow heart-throb Mark Lindsay.

Peak and Valley
The grueling schedule of TV taping and live concerts left Paul Revere and the Raiders little time for studio work. Yet the group managed to record two successful albums in 1966, Just Like Us and Midnight Ride, both among the best of their recorded output. Guitarist Drake Levin was drafted and left the group in 1966 to join the National Guard. His replacement was Jim "Harpo" Valley, by this time guitarist with the up-and-coming Don and the Goodtimes. Valley initially hesitated to join, believing that the Goodtimes were on the verge of success themselves. He recalls, "Paul Revere gave me the fatherly advice: 'A lot of bands are "this close," but most bands never get beyond that.'" Valley accepted the offer in part due to assurances that some of his songs would be included on the next Raiders album (Spirit of '67). But as the time came to cut one of his tunes -- the last to be recorded, Valley recalls, "Mark Lindsay came running in and said, 'Hey, I just wrote a song in the crapper. And it's got to be on the album!'" A frustrated Valley left after a year of touring with the group.

Levin returned briefly, but soon he too would become disenchanted. "Phil [Volk, bassist] and Drake were writers, too," observes manager Roger Hart. "And they wanted to move up front a bit. But there weren't that many opportunities." Volk says that "we thought maybe the Raiders were losing their edge. Our focus was too much on pleasing the teenyboppers." What's more, future Raider Keith Allison says that because the group was often on tour, producer "Terry [Melcher] would start tracking songs without the entire band. That was a matter of contention, especially for Phil and Smitty." In 1967 Levin, Volk and drummer Mike Smith left the Raiders to form Brotherhood. "It probably wasn't a wise business decision" for them, says Hart, recalling CBS' forcing a delay in release of the first Brotherhood LP. Revere sued the departing trio for breach of contract as well.

The division of labor within Paul Revere and the Raiders had by this time been well established. Lindsay handled songwriting and production (originally with Melcher, and eventually without him). Revere, always the businessman, concentrated on live shows and commercial exposure. While Revere's manic boogie-woogie piano playing had been an early hallmark of the group's R&B-derived sound, as the Raiders moved toward guitar-oriented rock, the songs provided less for him to do. In the studio, as often as not, the keyboard parts had been played by Volk, Melcher or (occasionally, when a session was booked and the band was on tour) session musicians. "Paul was not always comfortable in the studio," Hart notes. "He loved being onstage."

Volk stresses that although "things in the studio moved too slowly for him," Revere "could rock his ass off." Volk offers, "if you really want to hear Paul play, listen to those b-sides" on the new 3CD singles compilation. As Revere told Ed Osborne, "I was [Terry Melcher's] worst nightmare. I'd always been the leader of the band; I was the guy. It was my band and I ran that son-of-a-bitch like a sergeant. And all of a sudden, I had a general over me."

The 1967 disc Revolution -- recorded with a new lineup -- was the last Lindsay-Melcher collaboration, save the left-field A Christmas Present...and Past LP. Lindsay recalls that he and Melcher developed that holiday album as "combination Vietnam war protest and man's-inhumanity-to-man observation." He chuckles that the resulting music "turned out to be very dark, and not exactly" what the label had wanted. "It wasn't exactly our most commercial enterprise," Lindsay admits.

The Happening Era
In 1967, Paul Revere and Mark Lindsay went to Memphis and filmed a pilot for a planned TV show called Treasure of '67, but that project failed to materialize. A local station (WHBQ) had just installed color cameras, so the pair produced an off-the-cuff program in hopes of selling sponsors on the idea. Lindsay laughs as he recalls the "last-minute" nature of the program, complete with "spray-painted paper plates" decorating the wall and naughty banter that could never make it onto TV. At one point in the program, Lindsay turns to Revere, who's wearing a frog sock puppet on his hand, and says, "Get the frog out of my face!"

Meanwhile, Roger Hart had suggested to Dick Clark's people that they should develop a show for Revere and Lindsay, based on, in his words, "whatever's happening in music." What came out of those meetings was the weekly program Happening (and later a companion daily show called It's Happening). Their co-host on some programs was a former co-star from their WTAI days, solo artist Keith Allison. The Raiders and Allison had toured together for years; Allison would open the show, and then return mid-set to be backed by Revere's band. Allison had also contributed as a session musician to the singles "Ups and Downs" and "Him or Me -- What's It Gonna Be?" In 1968 Revere approached Allison to join the group on bass. "Be in the studio next week," Allison recalls Revere telling him. He showed up in time to play on the single, "Cinderella Sunshine."

By 1968 the band settled into a lineup of Lindsay and Revere plus southerners Freddy Weller on guitar, Keith Allison on bass, and Joe Correro Jr. on drums. While the 1968 album Goin' to Memphis was a Raiders album in name only (Lindsay recorded all songs -- except the single "Peace of Mind" -- in Memphis with producer Chips Moman and his stable of sessioners), the next three -- Something Happening (1968), Hard 'N' Heavy (with Marshmallow) (1969) and Alias Pink Puzz (1969) -- were more band-centered projects. "On Hard 'N' Heavy, it's all us," says Allison. "That's all Freddy, Joe and me. We played everything on it. Glen D. Hardin played keyboards" on a few tracks, he says, but "I played keyboards on a lot of the stuff in Paul's absence; he was already up in Idaho."

After the Sixties
In the new decade the hits slowed down ("diminishing returns" for their efforts, says Hart). Lindsay and Weller both had successful solo careers in tandem with their Raiders work, and concerts of the era included selections from their solo records in addition to Raiders hits. The latter were often condensed into medleys, since the length of a typical concert didn't allow for performance of all of the Raiders' long list of hit singles.

The surprise success of another Raiders-in-name-only cut, "Indian Reservation," in 1971 reinvigorated the group as a concert draw, but the rocking 1970 Collage LP bore little resemblance to that sound. By the early-to-mid 1970s Paul Revere and the Raiders was more of a live revue than an album-making outfit.

Even though the music got heavier, Raiders concerts didn't bow toward the musical excesses of the era: Paul Revere and the Raiders never did drum solos. "In February '72 we went into Vegas," Allison recalls. "The first two rock acts to play Las Vegas were Elvis and us. We were at the Flamingo, and he was at the Hilton."

The group had retired the Revolutionary garb shortly after the departure of Phil Volk, Mike Smith and Drake Levin in favor of "high-fashion street clothes," in Allison's words. By the early 70s they wore "jumpsuits with a yoke up the front, and rhinestones and shit" like Elvis, Allison laughs. Coming full circle, when the Raiders went to Vegas they again donned the uniforms.

While gigs in Las Vegas and on the oldies circuit suited Revere, the other members slipped away one by one. By 1975 Allison and Lindsay had left, and the recording era of the group was effectively over. Revere continued the group as a live act with various other musicians, and as of 2010 continues to perform with a lineup based in Branson, Missouri. Hart likens the Raiders' ever-changing lineup to "a well-oiled machine, with occasional spare parts."

The Great Lost Raiders Album?
Asked about the existence of any “lost” Raiders recordings, the various members do recall a few unheard gems. Jim Valley raves about the 1967 sessions for an unreleased Barry Mann - Cynthia Weil cut called “Long Way to Go.” Featuring electric violin and oud, the song would have “taken the Raiders to a different realm,” Valley believes. “It wasn’t a teenybopper song.” He says that Mark Lindsay’s inability to hit some of the notes doomed the song, which was never completed.

Valley also recalls the band going into Armand Steiner Studios between touring dates. There they would record cover songs (”Stand by Me,” “Bad Boy,” etc.) for airing on Where the Action Is. The band would be shown lip-synching to the tunes, but the songs themselves were essentially recorded live in the studio. Those tracks were just the band -- absolutely no studio musicians -- and featured Paul Revere in a more prominent musical role than he enjoyed on the group's officially recorded output.

Lindsay says that in the earliest (1958-1961) version of the group back in Idaho, “one of the guitar players had a Wollensak recorder. And there are some live tapes of that group. Mostly covers, and a lot of Ventures, since we had two guitarists in the band.”

“Somewhere in this world,” Lindsay adds, “there’s an eight-track recording of a live show we did in Hawaii. This would have been about 1968 or 1969. I don’t know where the tapes are.” Neither Lindsay nor anyone else associated with the group knows of any live recordings of the ‘66-67 era group.

In his personal collection, Roger Hart has an unreleased recording or two. "I have a complete set from the Division Street Corral in Portland, from May 1965. One of our early fans recorded us that night. It's a muddy recording of everything from me introducing the group right through to 'Oo Poo Pa Doo.' I've never listened to it all the way through," he admits. "I never felt the need, mostly because I've heard it all before."

The Raiders Legacy
Looking back, the heavy exposure that Paul Revere and the Raiders enjoyed -- especially at the height of their popularity in 1965-1967 -- was a double-edged sword. While it's true that the group holds the record for most television performances of any group in the 1960s -- more than 750, by Phil Volk's count -- that exposure, coupled with their costumes and zany onscreen image, may have worked against the band's long-term credibility. But beginning with the 1998 expanded release of the various-artists Nuggets box set, modern listeners have rediscovered the Raiders' music alongside fellow rockers such as the Sonics and Wailers, and are drawing musical connections with those harder-edged strains of music. "When you take away the pictures," notes Hart, "what you're left with is a tough, Northwest-style rock band that managed to make it, to get out of the north woods and take over the country."

This is a contrast to the context of mid-60s AM radio, when a Raiders cut might be sandwiched between singles from, say, the Lemon Pipers and the 1910 Fruitgum Company. The group has won modern-day praise from David Letterman's bandleader, Paul Shaffer, who often refers to the group as "the best show group ever." Greg Prevost -- leader of garage rockers the Chesterfield Kings -- insists that "the Raiders are one of the most important groups to emerge in the U.S. Their albums and singles -- both in content and production -- are in the same league with the 'Top 5' (Stones, Beatles, Who, Kinks, Byrds)." And the new 3CD set collecting all the group's Columbia singles -- most in punchy monaural mixes -- is a fitting "Exhibit A" to support Prevost's assertion.

Dick Clark Productions -- creator and owner of Where the Action Is and many other programs -- has never put together a Raiders video retrospective, and none of the WTAI or Happening episodes has ever been released on video. In fact most of the episodes (with the exception of a high-quality dub of the unaired pilot) exist only as grainy kinescopes, so future release remains unlikely.

In the end, that fact might aid in critical re-evaluation of Paul Revere and the Raiders. Absent the visual shtick, modern-day listeners are instead left with the music. And while the onscreen image of the group was almost always about comedy, the music rarely was. Hard-rocking hit singles like "Steppin' Out," "Kicks," "Hungry," "Good Thing" and many others demonstrate a no-nonsense rocking combo that produced an era's worth of finely wrought, hook-filled pop singles. Paul Revere and the Raiders combined the exuberance and fun of youth with a bit of the abandon and attitude of wild rock and roll.

Reflecting on the group's legacy, Mark Lindsay says, "I'd rather people remember us as a kick-ass rock and roll band than as humorous, because there wasn't a lot of slapstick onstage. That came with TV." Keith Allison agrees, adding that the Raiders "don't always get credit for the quality of the records." Jim Valley expresses the pleasure he gets from fans approaching him, saying things like, "You made us feel good. You were the reason we came home after school to watch Where the Action Is." Phil Volk sums it up. "First and foremost we were musicians. That's very apparent if you listen to some of the b-sides. Those are us playing spontaneously from our gut, from our soul. We played with taste, with soul, with chops. We were the real deal."

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