Sneak of the Week: Cliff Bennett & The Rebel Rousers – “Got to Get You Into My Life”

Did these British soulsters best The Beatles?

As soulful young Brits in the early ‘60s, they toughened up their game at the start by playing American R&B covers at places like the Star-Club in Hamburg. A little later, they earned the attention of Brian Epstein, who became their manager. They recorded plenty of cracking cuts for Parlophone in the UK. And in 1966 they turned plenty of heads in England by recording “Got to Get You Into My Life.” But there was nary a John, Paul, George, or Ringo in the bunch.

Cliff Bennett & The Rebel Rousers had plenty in common with The Beatles when both bands were getting themselves going. That’s why they became friends. And it’s also why they were the Fabs’ opening act on The Beatles’ final British tour in 1966. During that tour, Bennett and company got a sneak peek at Revolver’s soultastic song “Got to Get You Into My Life.” And when they learned that their Beatle buddies weren’t releasing it as a single, they decided somebody should.

The tune’s originator apparently agreed—Paul McCartney duly produced the Rebel Rousers’ version, which became the band’s biggest hit, soaring up to No. 6 on the UK charts. It’s an ideal example of the overlap at the center of the Rebel Rousers/Beatles Venn diagram.

As mentioned earlier, R&B was a crucial building block of both bands’ sounds. But while The Beatles ventured far and wide beyond that, soul always remained central to Cliff Bennett & The Rebel Rousers, who built a rep as one of the sound’s strongest UK purveyors.

While US R&B was obviously McCartney’s prime influence in putting together the tune, the differences between the two versions speak volumes about where the bands were coming from. The basic arrangements are quite similar in terms of the horn charts, tempo, groove, etc. But lean in close enough and the differences reveal themselves.

Even though the horns are playing pretty much the same parts, there’s something about the way the brass on the Bennett cut is recorded that makes it feel more like it could have come off a contemporaneous Stax Records tune. And the big, swooping drum rolls feel more like something Motown house drummer Benny Benjamin might have played than anything in the Ringo toolkit.

There’s also a notable absence of guitar—the deep-bending, bluesy guitar lick leading into the coda of the Beatles track is replaced by piano here. But naturally, the most glaring difference between the—dare we say—competing cuts lies in the lead vocals.

There’s no question that McCartney acquits himself admirably, and his vocal delivers no shortage of soul; the Beatles track is far and away the most soulful moment on a predominantly psychedelic LP. But soul was Bennett and the Rousers’ business. And the way Bennett tears into the tune, whooping and wailing, crooning and shouting, he comes exponentially closer to the kind of performance you might get from somebody like Wilson Pickett or Otis Redding. And perhaps most importantly of all, he manages this while sounding utterly like himself. He never comes off like a Brit aping Americans; he’s simply a singer tapping into something deep inside him.

Americans scarcely ever even got a whiff of the cover version, presumably having enough to occupy them between The Beatles’ output and easy access to an ongoing avalanche of homegrown R&B. But whichever side of the ocean you’re on, the Rousers’ recording is, in its own way, fully the equal of the original.

-Jim Allen

Photo: public domain