Let’s continue, shall we?
Nelson (or, The Nelsons, as the DVD box would have it): Let’s review. There were 40—50 acts slated to play the Itchycoo Park Festival, including Felix Cavaliere, Blue Oyster Cult, Leon Russell, and Blood, Sweat & Tears.
And we’re settling in to hear Nelson. Not even a one-hit wonder, more of a one-hit huh?
The cynic in me suspects that the novelty of the boys being identical twins, along with their family’s show-biz influence, had as much to do with their success as their talent. In the interest of accuracy, I must point out that “(Can’t Live Without Your) Love & Affection,” the number they do on Itchycoo, wasn’t their only Top Ten hit (“After the Rain” was the other, and they also had two other Top 40 singles), just their only #1.
[ ... and their mother dresses them funny]
I distrust songs with long parentheticals in their titles, unless they’re “I’m Sorry (But So Is Brenda Lee)” . . . or my own “I Feel Good (But So Does James Brown).” This one is as mild and nondescript as its title, and not from the not 60s, 70s, even the 80s, but from a record released in 1990, further confusing me about the concept and target audience for this DVD.
What is impressive is that Gunnar (I presume, although I’d single his name out regardless because it amuses me) sings pretty decent harmonies while standing and playing a cocktail drum kit. Kind of puzzling, they sprung for a lead guitarist, but wouldn’t shell out for a proper drum kit? Or a guy to sit in back, playing it?
Keys: None. Hell, they only got half a set of drums! Like they’ve got room in the van for an electric piano!
ROD = Before digital TV, the Nelsons probably came off as pretty well-preserved here. On a modern screen, they have a faded debutante air in their closeups, and Gunnar seems pretty wiped out by the end of the song. And he doesn’t even play “Wipe Out”! Giving them a 6 on the decrepitude scale, just above average. Hey, compared to most of these acts, the boys are spring chickens—they ought to look like infants in this company.
Legend rating = Hardly, even if their dad was one. Sadly, not a living one. In comparison, Ricky Nelson starred in one of TV’s longest-running comedies, had a couple dozen Top 40 rock n’ roll hits, and went steady with Lorrie Collins! His boys managed a few nondescript singles, and one of ‘em can play drums and sing at the same time.
Rare Earth: There were three distinctive characteristics to Rare Earth: Pete Rivera’s lead vocals, frequent use of saxophone (and sometimes flue), and being the first successful American white rock band on Motown’s Rare Earth imprint. (The Rare Earth label also released Love Sculpture and Pretty Things albums, and Rustix were probably the first American band signed.) Rivera is long gone; the Motown connection only in that the song they do here, “Get Ready,” was probably their first hit only because of Berry Gordy’s insistance on his artists covering other Motown material; and while the sax player (Gil Bridges) is the original, his instrument is part of the song for maybe 30 seconds.
My tortuous point being, these mopes have a pretty tenous connection to the band that had those hits people remember and, presumably, came to hear. As much as the organist or the bassist, or drummer, or rhythm guitarist wants to tell him- or herself that he or she is vitally important to a band’s sound—to its very survival—I have a spot of bad news: to most listeners, everyone other than the lead singer is interchangeable and dispensible. The rest of you simply don’t much exist.
Think about it. To the world at large, Mike Love is the Beach Boys, and not only because he keeps dragging around the band’s festering corpse, but because he sang lead on their biggest hits. You think the average karoake barfly could tell Brian Wilson from Brian Williams?
Pete Rivera has a fairly distinctive voice, arguably Rare Earth’s signature sound. His replacement by the time of the Itchycoo festival, Floyd Stokes Jr., is a decent singer, but does not possess a voice that I could pick out of a lineup. Stokes’ vocal performance here is a little nasal (although I’ve heard live YouTube clips where he doesn’t have this issue) and both his drumming and singing are a bit stiff, possibly constrained by his dual drumming—lead vocalizing. He certainly drums with more flair when he’s not singing.
In the interest of full disclosure, I may be less-than-impartial toward both the drummer and bassist here because both remind me of people I know, not especially nice people and don’t care much for. The bassist also doesn’t endear by taking a solo. There may have been bassists who should take solos—Mingus, Jaco. As a rule, the bass guitar is not a solo instrument, as this guy ably demonstrates. On the other hand, it appears that he was promoted from the band’s roadie to the bass spot, which is pretty admirable, on his part as an achievement and on the band’s, for giving him a shot. He's from Lansing, Michigan, so he's probably a nice guy.
He just creeps me the hell out. 
The guitarist is unobtrusive, and somewhat reminiscent of less-demented Creed Bratton. Saxophonist Gil Bridges, an original member of Rare Earth since they were known as The Sunliners, not only isn’t allowed a solo, he is mostly relegated to playing tambourine. Great head of hair, though.
In keeping with their general tribute band vibe, this “Rare Earth” offers a presentable cover, even if allowing a bass solo (and it being the only solo in the performance) is as inexplicable as it is inexcuseable.
Keys: Where to begin. What kind of knucklehead goes to the trouble and expense of lugging around an honest-to-god Leslie cabinet, then runs, not a Hammond of even the modern miniature type through it, but some manner of dinky, toy-like, plastic synth through it. If he’s who I think (a fellow named Mike Bruner), he’s an accomplished guy, a published author and possessor of an undergraduate degree in organ (which is not what you would possibly think on first reading that phrase). He seems capable of playing the thing, albeit with abundant, superflous hand-slaps at the keys and other overly-theatrical flourishes. 
His dopey, bar band demeanor is compounded with his “Dad’s on vacation” white pants—Hawaiian shirt combo, Prince Valiant bowl cut, and salt-n-pepper disco ‘stach. He owes the rest of the world’s keyboardists and apology; he is what society is lashing out at when they receive their regular beat-downs.
ROD = Bridges is an original, and the guitarist (Ray Monette, presumably) has logged a lot of years with the band, and they both look pretty fit and well-preserved in this video (which is, granted, over ten years old). They get high marks.
Legend rating = Look, I own the Rare Earth box set, and even I don’t think a few hits constitute a “legend.” Here, they are represented by an iffy tribute band doing a song that was a cover when the “real” Rare Earth recorded it, hardly a strong case for legendary status. And I really wanted them to show up strongly on this DVD.
Firefall: If you start scratching your head over this one, you may never stop. For instance, how can a band of guys who used to play with the likes of Spirit, the Flying Burrito Brothers, and the Byrds make music this horrifically bland? Who actually likes this tepid music? How can anyone be so dead set on including Firefall on this DVD that this person could overlook Rick Roberts’ flat, beyond-his-range singing?
[Firefall, available in a variety of sizes!]
From his corny, inconprehensible dedication to “all the sun-baked ladies here this afternoon, you know who you are” through his strained vocalizing, Roberts displays all the wit, charm, and talent of that badly be-rugged reprobate playing the downtown cocktail dive, who sends “Do Ya’ Think I’m Sexy” out to your wife. The rest of the band proves itself capable of reproducing the studio version of “You Are The Woman” (and what else were they gonna play*) admirably, if there is anything to admire about this flavorless aural gelatin, further emphasizing the maddening question: what were musicians this hot doing making sounds this lukewarm?
* “Just Remember I Love You,” I suppose. Isn’t it actually the very same song, though? According to the band’s official Web site, they had several other hits, including “the smash hit ‘Strange Way’” which, along with their others, apparently enjoyed their great popularity during that decade when I was hermetically sealed away from all cultural influences, because I don’t remember ever having heard them. And according to their site, everything Firefall did was brilliant!
Keys: None, but they have a flute, which rivals the “keyboard” on the scale of lame. The two often slap it out over which is lamer.
ROD = Seems like Rick Roberts looked reasonably fit and youthful, but in a formaldahidic way, like that alcoholic “drunkle” you remember from your youth. I can barely picture the rest of this band, they are so forgettable. Not memorably decrepit, either, so rate them average.
Legend rating = I wouldn’t be surprised if Byrds/Spirit/Burrito Bros. fans haven’t altered Wikipedia to destroy any trace of these guys belonging to those storied bands. (Oh, I know. Alter Wikipedia to make the facts appear to support a delusional representation of history? Prepostrous!) Firefall is what people are talking about when they mention how sucky Seventies music was. And not even legendarily sucky!
