With a paradoxical, anachronistic sound that was simultaneously 1966
and 1977 but not really either, the Monks’ 1966 sonic recipe was as
follows: confrontational, psychotic-rant vocals atop harmonies
resembling a maladjusted Gary Lewis & the Playboys; primal drums
with Standells-esque organ and fuzz guitar, plus “electric banjo” and
occasional blasts of pre-Hendrix feedback; and lyrics swerving between
almost-scary, sardonic angst and Ramonesy bubblegum nonsense. In an era
when long hair was a rock virtue, these guys not only cut it short but
fearlessly shaved reverse-Mohawk bald spots on their heads. With ropes
around their necks and clothing as black as their album cover, the
Monks were radical even in a time of intense cultural upheaval.
The Monks should have graduated from underground cult obscurity to
widespread punk worship when Henry Rollins reissued the group’s lone
album with bonus tracks in 1997. However, that CD fell in and out of
print with relatively little notice. This reissue addresses the obscene
lack of commercial availability of these brilliant, historic
recordings. The new booklet and packaging are extensive and top-notch.
But since the music mostly mirrors the 1997 Black Monk Time, owners of that version should first pursue the collection of Monks
demos, The Early Years, 1964-1965.
— Michael David Toth
This article appears in May 6-12, 2009.
