Out of the nether regions of the Black Forest stumbles a Rock & Roll Sasquatch, tonsured and spitting wild declarations of dissonant truths hushed for forty years in the briars of that wood. Welcome back to civilization The Monks, once buried bones of a missing link that never saw American airplay, and who have nearly fallen as relics behind the stage. Black Monk Time draws together the girl-group hysteria and beatnik spirit of the '50s while foreshadowing the birth pains of psychedelic garage rock and proto-punk vigor of the early '70s. The habit wearing, ex-patriot GI's harmonize sarcastically in mock of Phil Spector's nonsense sing-a-long songs, mash the organ quicker than Jimmy Smith in a religious revival of entombed jazz legends and exhume a fervor of angst that hardly breathes again until the wobbling punk revolution finds they have nothing to say again.
The Monks' lone album release does not stink of failed genius, nor should it be relegated as some historic sound-mark referenced to justify some far-flung revisionist agenda. The energy and audible derision in Gary Burger's voice, the shambling organ under Larry Clark's fingers and the dappled quips of Dave Day's electrified banjo will make a believer out of anyone. Any band wielding an electric banjo deserves at least a little credit. The Monks' claim to be reacting (in agitation) to the “English Art-School Stuff” of the early '60s, and that's what you get: Rock n roll as an end to itself, the rerouting of sexual tension and angst through the tinny base of a second hand amplifier.
1. Monk Time
2. Shut Up
3. Boys Are Boys And Girls Are Choice
4. Higgle-Dy-Piggle-Dy
5. I Hate You
6. Oh, How To Do Now
7. Complication
8. We Do Wie Du
9. Drunken Maria
10. Love Came Tumblin' Down
11. Blast Off!
12. That's My Girl
13. I Can't Get Over You
14. Cukoo
15. Love Can Tame The Wild
16. He Went Down To The Sea
17. Monk Chant
18. I Hate You
19. Oh, How To Do Now