Classic Revaluated; The Monks - Black Monk Time

or the record better known as the one from the band of the mayor of Turtle River, Minnesota

I guess at least part of you know the story so far: 20 years after a devastating blitzkriegish war that almost burned down the whole world, five American soldiers stationed in BDR form a band. You can see them playing in German television under a moniker of "The Monks", wearing black robes, nooses around their necks, and their heads tenure-shaven. The vision is apocalyptic, the music is ugly. Ugly and demented. Reminiscent of an SA marching band playing the Horst-Wessel-Lied with electric guitars (and one electric banjo) and Pink Floydish organ that cries out like an overdriven Jericho trumpet from hell. And the fact is that the German teenagers are dancing to this. It's 1965 and it's anglo-saxon pop music, so of course they are crazy for it. The scene is very decadent and disturbing. The first impression is that The Monks are Pure Evil.

One must point out that the historical importance of this album is questionable. Released only in Germany without any remarkable success, there's no doubt that the likes of Velvet Underground and The Fugs were actually superstars at the time compared to these guys. Hardly anyone heard the record in 1966 so it won't really make a difference if they invented the use of guitar feedback (as it is claimed) or if they pioneered punk (or postpunk, or maybe industrial, EBM or death metal for God's sake!).

But the lack of a historical substance is nothing compared to the fact that the record is awesome. I already mentioned the EBM context; The Monks are actually something like Nitzer Ebb thrown into the sixties. Philistine as a beer hall full of nazis. The music is mechanical, set over the most roaring, almost tribal drumming and violent tambourine clashing, making it look so evident that rock music is nothing but a form of a primitive religious ritual.

If the music is a combination of strict militarian monotony and the all collapsing chaos of war, the lyrics are nothing more than psychotic rantling of bigotry, ranging from torsos of protest songs to nihilistic battle cries, sometimes near existentialism in their minimalism (Drunken Maria). Gary Burger's vocals are aggressive army marching chants of call and response ("People kill, People die for you!" of the horrifying Complication). At times it's all just wild shell shocked stream of consciousness - the opening track Monk Time being the best example of Burger's hysteric rhubarb ("My brother died in Vietnam! James Bond who is he? Pussy Galore is coming to town! Stop it, it's too loud for my ears!") the band beating the shit out of their instruments in the background.

The Monks' idea of a love song is degenerated as well. The bluesy rumbling I Hate You, with Burger crying out the "(unintelligible line) -- I Hate You with a passion baby! -- I hate you because you make me hate you!" opening, must have been a truly shocking moment in 1964 or 1965, when the audiences were almost completely nurtured with lyrics fitting to the boy meets girl canon of popular music. But I guess not that many actually got shocked. Some did, but the German teenagers, maybe a mite challenged with the English language, seemed to be happy raving while the band were playing numbers like Shut Up, where the protagonist, with an intonation of a Germanic warrior, yells his counterpart to shut up and stop her crying.

One should remember that the Monks were five GI Joes in a foreign country, frustrated by cultural isolation and pissed off with the army. Music like this couldn't have come out in New York, neither in Frisco. Somehow it makes sense, that in these stranded conditions they were forced to create the most barbarian, primitive, menacing album of the sixties.

The Monks: Black Monk Time
(Polydor, 1966)
Record rating: 9.5/10