Author’s note: one of my aims in this blog is to provide historical commentary in regards to Trevor’s career in all (or nearly so) incarnations. But what follows is merely speculation and commentary based on applicable research; I’m not presuming to be an authority on Rabbitt relations.
Trevor’s decision to go alone must be respected, and we wish him well for the future;
-text from the sleeve of the Morning Light maxi-single (Jo’Burg Records, 1977) credited to Duncan Faure, Ronnie Robot and Neil Cloud
In 1977, not long after their “Farewell Tour” in South Africa as the members of Rabbitt were expecting to journey to America for the purposes of expanding their fanbase one country at a time - having secured an international distribution deal with Capricorn Records the previous year - a shocking announcement rocked the nation: the lynchpin of the entire enterprise, their singer, songwriter, guitarist, arranger and co-producer Trevor Rabin was bowing out as the master plan fell apart, the band unable to obtain the necessary clearance to work outside the country. Censures against South Africa, the nation which practiced apartheid, were becoming more and more prevalent worldwide. After passing on (regrettably in hindsight no doubt) an offer from Mutt Lange to produce the band in London, Trevor had decided the easiest route to further success was simply to move to London, as the UK was more accepting of its Jaarpie relations. However his bandmates declined to participate in what he considered the logical course of musical ambition.
But Trevor had a deeper reason for deciding to exit: his conscience would no longer allow him to live in a country whose government administered such an abominable methodology of legally-sanctioned discrimination.
Before Trevor’s career could be advanced on foreign soil he had to provide recorded proof he could succeed without benefit of the band or their production team, to prove he was truly the artistic soul behind the music.
And so two records were released within a month of each other and the nation witnessed a rivalry likely never before experienced (nor ever after, to my reckoning).
In one corner stood Trevor’s near-one-man-band solo declaration of independence, the album Beginnings. Its fanciful cover portrayed Trevor as an amalgam of imaginative imagery. but with his famous face intact by way of illustration. On the back cover the feathery-haired teen idol more familiar to the populace looked very serious indeed.
By contrast, weighing in at one member less, Rabbitt’s follow-up Rock Rabbitt seemingly displayed a tougher side to the band’s image, from the title (an interesting choice of adjective), along with the group photo: showing the trio glowering at the camera and Ronnie’s shirt summing up the overriding sentiment, printed with the most famous line from Gone With The Wind.
There could be little doubt who the message was directed at.
And it could be said it was in response to Trevor firing the opening salvo with the first (and only in ZA) single from his album, a song called “Fantasy” which led with this refrain:
You taking all my money
you trying to take away my fame.
But there’s one thing you can’t have, babe
you can’t share my name.
As well as this possible declaration to Duncan, who authored all the songs on the new Rabbitt album:
You trying hard to show me
that you can do it all alone.
I’m not particularly interested
I wanna do it all alone.
…and indeed he did. Trevor played all instruments on the album save for the drums (provided by studio cohort Kevin Kruger) as well as guest appearances on violin by his father Godfrey on “I Love You” and “Love Life.” Only one song featured backing vocals by Rene Arnell (nee Veldsman), Trevor sang everything else himself, with stacked harmonies and intricate arrangements. He wrote the songs, produced and arranged the album, and although Hennie Hartmann is credited as the recording engineer, Trevor likely manned the console as well. He retreated to their former studio, RPM, while Rabbitt remained ensconced at Satbel, the state-of-the-art facility which had been built for the band only a year before.
Even if the album had not been successful Trevor had absolutely proven once again that he was the wunderkind of South African rock. And in my estimation his album definitely did rock, much more than his former band’s follow-up. Varied and ambitious (in a way which his next two solo albums would not be), this was the sound of a man finding his artistic freedom and liking it very much.
But the difference in intensity is not so surprising in relation to the other release, given Duncan Faure’s propensity for sweet pop hooks and melodies. The album bears a gentler dreamier version of the Rabbitt sound with elaborate arrangements and strong playing, but it could be said it’s missing a bit of the bravura which Trevor creates so easily. And that specific absence is addressed on the second song - likely a response to the pointed jibes in “Fantasy” - entitled “Mr. Muso.”
Mr Muso
with your new show
will you succeed with your dream
succeed with the ambition you knew
see it through.
Will your life change
for a while re-arrange
after hearing your song
I really can’t see you go wrong.
Mr Muso
with your new show
will you star while they scream
as big as the dream you once knew
see it through.
Years later, it’s likely Duncan realized the irony of his suggestion that Trevor would never be as big as he was in Rabbitt. Interestingly enough the two experienced a shared destiny in that they each later joined an established band – although in Trevor’s case he did not originally join Yes, the brand name was revived as a result of professional machinations after the assemblage was mostly finished recording their album. And in both cases they came to be credited with bringing further success to those enterprises as a result of the addition of their unique talents.
So despite the diplomatic statement printed on the back cover of the last release from the original lineup, Morning Light, which attempts to sooth the hysteria of thousands of distraught young women, the breakup wasn’t as forgiving as the boys wanted their fans to believe. More interesting is the consideration that despite the band being unable to properly focus in regards to what became an aborted third album (with only four tracks ultimately recorded), once the split was final both sides seemed to produce an album’s worth of material overnight. It is perhaps a sad commentary on how bad things had become in the organization. But they all were equally determined to rule the roost on their home turf, and Duncan acknowledges what a formidable force Trevor is in regards to his ambition:
So your life it may seem
is obsessed by this dream.
After hearing your song
I really can’t see you go wrong
get it on.
The competition aspect can be inferred by the bridge to the chorus of "Fantasy"
Baby baby it's lovin'
but it's loving just for one.
Trevor displayed a more philosophical perspective in another song from his album, “Live A Bit:”
Now I know what's it like to be alive
I look around and try and find solid ground.
Feet still hanging up and blowing in the wind
the only thing that's permanent is change.
And in this very significant crossroads for four young men with a dream which succeeded, then shattered, then reformed and moved on, the character of obsession and determination would provide the crucible of the rest of their lives.
