RICK RANDLE & THE ROCKERS, "I'M HURT" C/W "THAT DAY," ARC 4445 (REL. 10/1958)

 

Rick Randle (or Randell) is not Joe Pesci. This urban myth is just that: hogwash. He did perform with Pesci, famous for his psychotic, paranoid mobster in Martin Scorcese’s classic film Goodfellas, live and on record, but they’re unique entities.

Born Rocco Gaeta in Newark, New Jersey, the singer made several singles for various labels; today we’ll hear his debut disc—with one side a harbinger of things to come in rock ‘n’ roll. Rick and The Rockers epitomize the early regional combos that sprang up when rock was new and the possibilities endless. Anyone could put a band together, practice enough to get heard and, if the chips fell and cookies didn’t crumble, local heroes might become global celebrities.

This happened perhaps once in 10,000 attempts, but that was enough to keep young, ambitious performers eager to try. The system was stacked hard and high against their success, but we can only give thanks that they tried—more so for those who left behind recordings.

Rocco’s band, begun in junior high, lasted through his upper grades. They played at high school dances and teen sock hops, where they drew large audiences. Their popularity got the attention of two men who ran Arc Records, an Elizabeth, NJ label with some other solid rock ‘n’ roll contenders.

Arc captured the group at their raw essence—this is how they performed to local audiences without any filters. None of Rocco’s subsequent records would sound like this; he was happy to have New York arrangers and producers mold his work into the set pop-music boundaries. Once you hear “I’m Hurt,” the intended B-side of this debut, you’ll question that decision.

It opens with wolf-whistles and an unintelligible chorus; it sounds like the group sings eighteen over and over. Crude recording equipment gives this song a rugged live feel. Rick’s voice is poorly miked, and that adds to the sense of spontaneous excitement.

Like Alton and Jimmy’s 1959 Sun Records classic “No More Cryin’ the Blues,” it uses unusual chord progressions for early rock ‘n’ roll and looks ahead to much later developments in vernacular music. One writer said of Alton and Jimmy’s record that it could have been a SubPop release from the early 1990s. The same could be said of “I’m Hurt.” Its out-of-nowhere sound is refreshing. The more I root around in the lower depths of ‘50s music, more evidence surfaces that some musicians weren’t content with the norm and tried to break away from it. This scrappy, raggedy song is a prime example of those who dared—most often outside the loop of the major record labels.

Cash Box focused on the more commercial ballad side.

“That Day” opens with unorthodox chord patterns but settles into the traditional four-chord grind first heard in the 1934 Broadway musical song “Blue Moon.” That song was considered radical when new for those chords, which became the backbone of popular music and still are heard in new recordings of 2025.

By 1958, they were a cliché, but certain artists could breathe life into them, and Rick and his pals do that here. The crude sound gives them an impact that a slicker studio production might have lost. No strings, vocal chorus or other fancy implements are needed—just the sincere voices of these teenagers who express themselves without reservation. Unlike so many similar songs, “That Day” has a gripping power that pushes through the rockaballad formula.

Arc Records promoted this record as best they could, and I imagine it sold well along the Northeastern seaboard; it might have reached the rest of America, since I found my copy here in Portland. It didn't chart, but it got the interest of ABC-Paramount Records, who signed Randell and had him record on that imprint and their Apt subsidiary. Randell made some fine sides on his own, including the groovin’ “More of the Same,” which was played here five years ago (well, not here; on Facebook). None of them recaptured the primitive impact of his debut.

It’s rare that we have an interview with the person or persons featured here. This link to a 2010 talk with the singer gives an interesting, un-bitter look back at a young career in music. Well worth the read!

https://rarerockinrecords.blogspot.com/2010/09/dining-dancing-and-talking-with-mr-rick.html

Tomorrow: another Jersey group, white doo-woppers The Passions, with a heartfelt 1961 rockastring release on Audicon Records, with arrangements by the great Teacho Wiltshire. Will satisfy your ‘teener’ yen, should one exist.

Alas, the podcast is delayed until next Friday due to life being too darn busy!