It’s two o’clock in the morning, the kind of hour where a deep-cut classic truly earns its keep. The air is still, save for the low hum of the home audio system and the faint hiss of an old vinyl pressing. You’ve settled in for a late-night session, chasing ghosts through the dustiest corners of the late-sixties singles pile, looking for something that just works. Something that cuts through the fog of nostalgia with pure, unadulterated velocity.
Then it hits.
The opening of The Equals’ 1968 single, “I Get So Excited,” isn’t a suggestion; it’s an immediate, physical shove onto the dance floor. It arrives with the primal, yet tightly controlled, energy of a band operating at the absolute peak of their kinetic power. This is not the measured psychedelia or the blues-rock extension favored by many of their contemporaries. This is raw, integrated power-pop, years before the genre had a name, infused with the essential rhythms of the Caribbean diaspora.
The Epicenter of the Equal’s Burst
To truly appreciate this glorious, two-and-a-half-minute explosion, we must place it in the context of The Equals’ extraordinary career arc. Formed in North London in 1965, The Equals were, by 1968, on the cusp of conquering the UK charts with the re-issue of the Eddy Grant-penned “Baby, Come Back.” They were a phenomenon—one of the UK’s first major interracial rock groups, noted for their vibrant, eclectic sound that freely blended R&B, pop, rock, and ska/bluebeat elements.
“I Get So Excited” was a standalone single release—a non-album track at the time—which landed on the UK Singles Chart’s lower end, peaking just inside the Top 50. Though it didn’t achieve the global dominance of “Baby, Come Back,” its very existence, released in the year of that global breakthrough, solidifies 1968 as the group’s true commercial and artistic epicenter. It proved that their momentum was built on more than one catchy tune; it was built on a consistent, driving aesthetic.
The genius of their sound was chiefly driven by the songwriting and ferocious guitar work of Eddy Grant, with Derv Gordon’s commanding, slightly frantic lead vocals serving as the focal point. While session details are often opaque for tracks from this era, the established President Records sound under label head Ed Kassner was known for a punchy, immediate mix, lending the recording an air of urgent garage-pop economy.
Sound and Fury, Signifying Everything
The arrangement of “I Get So Excited” is a masterclass in economy and controlled chaos. It wastes no time establishing its high-octane tempo. The drums, delivered by John Hall, are a relentless, unflagging pulse, heavy on the snare and cymbal, laying down a simple, driving four-on-the-floor beat that owes as much to early rock and roll as it does to the energetic dance rhythms of ska.
The heart of the rhythm section is an astonishing interplay of three guitars (Eddy Grant, Pat Lloyd, and Lincoln Gordon, who later switched to bass). One six-string provides a clean, fast chugging rhythm, almost funk-lite in its choppy precision, which anchors the entire structure. A second is often heard playing sharp, clipped counter-rhythms, while Grant’s lead guitar cuts across the top with thin, bright, fuzzed-out lines. These aren’t virtuosic blues solos; they are perfectly constructed, melodic bursts of noise—quick, two-bar phrases that sound like a fire alarm going off in a pop song. The timbre is trebly, cutting, and insistent, far removed from the thick, creamy distortion that would soon dominate hard rock.
“This is not a song that invites you to sit back; it demands you participate, turning the listener into an active, breathless participant in its ecstatic breakdown.”
What often gets overlooked in the clamor is the understated but essential use of the piano. It sits low in the mix, providing small, quick stabs of harmony—a melodic cushion that fills out the crucial middle-frequency space and gives the whole piece of music its harmonic fullness, preventing the relentless guitar attack from sounding too thin. It’s an arrangement detail that reveals a sophistication often missed by critics who simply categorized The Equals as a “garage” band. It speaks to a deep, structural understanding of pop music’s required scaffolding, even at this breakneck pace.
The central narrative of the song is one of overwhelming, uncontainable passion. Derv Gordon delivers the lyrics—a straightforward account of being rendered speechless and physically overcome by his love—with a vocal tension that is practically visible. His voice is taut, soaring over the instrumental maelstrom, often pushing into a high-register scream that is less painful and more genuinely ecstatic. The backing vocals, a unified gang shout, provide the perfect call-and-response element, injecting the track with a communal, rude-boy energy.
A Modern Reverberation
Revisiting “I Get So Excited” today is a revelation. It bridges so many late-60s sensibilities—the raw urgency of US garage rock, the hook-laden brevity of British pop, and the syncopated, off-beat drive of Caribbean music—into one cohesive, thrilling blast. It is a blueprint for what would later become both punk and new wave in its concision and anti-bloat sensibility.
Imagine this track played through a pair of high-quality studio headphones. The complexity of the guitar layering, the subtle swing of the drum fills, and the way the bass (played either by Lincoln Gordon on rhythm guitar or an uncredited session player, but certainly locked tight to the kick) pushes the whole structure forward become startlingly clear.
This song is more than a curio of the 1968 charts; it’s a living, breathing artifact of a time when pop music was being fundamentally, and joyously, redefined by a band that didn’t adhere to the cultural dividing lines of race or genre. It is a glorious, noisy celebration of feeling everything, right now, as loudly as possible. It deserves a prominent place in the pantheon of essential late-sixties singles.
Listening Recommendations: Adjacent Sonic Explosions
- “Police on My Back” – The Equals (1967): Shares the same frenetic, socially-charged garage-ska energy, another must-hear Eddy Grant composition.
- “Little Bit o’ Soul” – The Music Explosion (1967): A similar burst of hyper-charged, keyboard-driven proto-power-pop with an irresistible, shouted chorus.
- “Mony Mony” – Tommy James and the Shondells (1968): Captures the shared spirit of ’68 pop with a similar relentless, joyful rhythmic drive and simple, infectious hook.
- “Sweet Little Sixteen” – The Rolling Stones (1964): For the pure, unbridled rock and roll energy and fast-paced piano accompaniment that fuels the song’s core structure.
- “Friday on My Mind” – The Easybeats (1966): An equally perfect, concise piece of power-pop built on a driving rhythm section and sharp, melodic guitar hooks.
- “I Can Hear the Grass Grow” – The Move (1967): Features a similar blend of psych-tinged pop with a highly charged, dynamic instrumental arrangement.