Spastic monastic

by JOHNSON CUMMINS

What do you mean you’ve never heard of the Monks? American G.I.s stationed in Germany circa 1964, they were one of the many bands fuelled by Chuck Berry and the British Invasion, which had hit full swing in Germany at the time. Along with contemporaries across the pond like the Godz, the Sonics and the Fugs, the Monks were one of the first bands to stumble upon a genre that Bomp Records’ Greg Shaw would officially name a full decade later: punk rock.

While the Beatles were singing about wanting to hold your hand and other niceties, the Monks were hitting back with both barrels, inventing a sound that was completely different from any other band’s at the time and, quite frankly, hasn’t been replicated since. The vitriol behind seething stompers like “I Hate You” and “Shut Up” flew directly in the face of the innocence of the time, while “Complications” and “Black Monk Time” showed a pioneering spirit prior to the anti-war movement really gathering momentum. Ripping pages from books by Kerouac and other beatniks, they told teenagers to smoke marijuana in “Blast Off,” but also muddled up their messages with absurdist lyrics in songs like “Oh, How To Do Now” and “Higgle-Dy-Piggle-Dy.”

The lyrics are one thing, but their primal, wailing blasts are what made them stand out at the time. Their debut record, 1965’s Black Monk Time, is as primal as rock ’n’ roll gets, with the charge being led by whomping tribal beats from the drums, while chanting and screaming replace melody. Further challenging their audiences weaned on simplistic melodies, guitarist Dave Day put down his six-string in favor of an electric banjo that he would play chords on to get a specific metallic sound that crested over their cacophony.

The Monks were indeed as rocking as all get-out, but are still probably best remembered for their blasphemous attire. Day and drummer Roger Johnston (R.I.P.) shaved their pates in monk-style tonsure haircuts on a whim, with the rest of the band quickly following suit. To further make their Dadaist statements stand out, they adorned their monastic cassocks with nooses worn as neckties that, according to bassist Eddie Shaw’s amazing biography, symbolized “the metaphorical nooses that all humanity wears.” For teenyboppers in 1965, this was heady stuff for sure.

After the band ruffled feathers and infuriated audiences for a couple of years—bassist Shaw was nearly strangled by an audience member once—the band finally packed it in. Not much was heard about the Monks until Shaw’s 1994 biography Black Monk Time hit the shelves. Henry Rollins quickly re-released their record on his label, and the Fall’s Mark E. Smith has since covered four of the Monks’ classics and has also remarked that they are the only band he actually likes. The Fall will be one of many bands taking part in a Monks tribute record, which will be released later this year.

Although they reformed in 1999, releasing a new album and continuing to play the odd show, chances of them coming to Montreal are slim to none. Thankfully, though, Eddie Shaw will be holding a reading and book signing of Black Monk Time, one of the greatest rock reads of all time, at Casa Del Popolo on Monday, July 30 at 5 p.m., and best of all, it’s free, with signed copies of the book going for a measly 20 clams. Black Monk Time is right now, so bug out!

“James Bond, who is he?”
Jonathan.cummins@gmail.com