Monocled Alchemist

Raw Blastin’ Mid-60s Punk

SYNDICATE—The Egyptian Thing
Wailin’ this LP off to a frantic start is this INTENSELY RAW howler by these south Los Angeles legends. In August ’64 a few high school pals started toying with the idea of a group and by January ’65 had settled into a five-piece. At this point they were then set to be “a force which would make itself heard ’round the world by the inertia of its creative strength.” (A quote from their cool ’66 press bio “REQUIEM FOR A SYNDICATE.”)

Well, if it hadn’t been for the mass stupidity of the record industry, these guys would’ve knocked the world flat on its ass, because their two 45s are AWESOME slabs of UNCOMPROMISING FURY!

“The Egyptian Thing” was their second release, issued in November ’65, and it easily levels ANY European R&B raver to being lightweight pop, blasting LOUDER, FASTER and with more POWER and originality. The mysterious girl referred to as “the Egyptian thing” was your oft-mentioned heartbreaker inspirin’ most great ’60s punk rants, and was labeled such from a line in an early Dylan song that mentioned an “Egyptian queen.”

In the Syndicate’s case this bad girl had a habit of walkin’ the streets at night, cheatin’ and foolin’ around. Besides playing countless high school and college dances all over Huntington, Newport, Fullerton and Orange County, the group hit Ciro’s and the Sea Witch in Hollywood, Marina Palace in Seal Beach, The Cinnamon Cinder in Long Beach, and were on Charly O’Donnell’s “TOP 40” TV show on Saturday, January 22, 1966. (SOME-BODY GET A VIDEO COPY OF THIS, PLEASE!!)

They got signed to DOT records and were to record an LP of original tunes (even had a title for the LP: “FIVE THE HARD WAY”), but things didn’t work out; so they decided to call it quits in mid-’66, leaving the world with just two brutal 45s as a reminder of their legacy.

Back From The Grave | Volume 7 (Part One) | (Crypt) 1988

TOMBSTONES—I Want You
(Here’s WILD BILL NADOLNY, ’60s punk-fiend extraordinaire, to give you the exclusive low-down on this AWESOME chunk o’ Diddley POUND!) “The HAUNT of these TOMBSTONES was Greenville, South Carolina. These teen titans of electrifying punk cut this monstrous pounder on GRAVE RECORDS after BURYING the competition at a local Battle of the Bands in 1966.

To enhance their reputation as tough rock ‘n’ rollers, these guys ripped off a real tombstone and set it up on stage while they cranked out their raw arrangements of Stones and Yardbirds songs. Some sticky summer Southern nights, in dimly lit dance halls, a smoky, fog-like haze would swirl around stage creating an eerie image.

When the talented leader/singer/ lead guitarist got drafted in ’67, the band re-grouped and ventured up to Braintree, Massachusetts, to compete in the National Battle of the Bands.

To top off how hip these cats were, they were pals with THE WYLD (also from Greenville—NOT TEXAS), who are already in the ’60s punk Hall of Fame for their raunchy classics, “Lost One,” and “Fly By Nighter” (the latter included on GRAVE #4).” —B.N.

MOGULS—Another Day
The ONLY cool song about being on the road in a band! This theme has been over-used by geek heavy-metal jerks since the early ’70s, and hearing big-buck dorks with $300 girly hair-dos, flying in private jets and chauffeured limos, bitching about their “rough life” is really such a sack of SHIT! Send all these fags off to Santa Monica Boulevard and let ’em turn tricks with old geezers, and mebbe we’ll be spared any more of their crap!).

After playing in a high school surf-instrumental combo called the Gringos during ’63-’64, wildman Randy Bryson decided to try his hand at vocals. Eugene, Oregon was a rock ‘n’ roll hot-spot, so he easily found a crew and they named themselves the CENTURIANS, and started playing in June ’64.

They became the MOGULS in December ’64, when their manager had the idea that after “surf” music, “ski” music would be the Next Big Thing. He hired two go-go dancers garbed in “ski bunny” outfits, bought the group ski pants, turtlenecks, and after-ski boots, and the new name.

Back From The Grave | Volume 7 (Part One) | (Crypt) 1988

Their first 45 was two instrumentals (“Ghost Slalom” & “Avalanche”) with rumbling “snow” sound effects. They won a Battle of the Bands, for which 1st prize was a free recording session & single, so they recorded another “ski” tune, the ULTRA-HEP “SKI BUM” (Hear it on Side 3), backed with “Try Me,” produced by a member of DON & THE GOODTIMES.

“Another Day” was released in ’66 on the TORK label, named after the Tork Club, where they were regulars. By this time they had tired of the “ski” gimmick, dumped the ski garb, ski bunnies, the manager, but kept the name and primal attack, which kept ’em at top spot at the Tork Club, which was no easy job with 82 (!!) groups contracted regularly.

They were filmed playing LIVE—not lip-synching—at a club in Mt. Ashland for “WHERE THE ACTION IS,” which did get aired a few times. One of the band was a pilot, so they really travelled a lot, hitting quite a few states. In fact, after a wild show in Boise, Idaho two girls swiped their parents’ car and followed the Moguls’ van 500 miles, ending the trek by crashing the car. In September ’67, Randy got married and left the group, who changed their name to the MUSIC PRISM, but that only lasted a year.

PUDDIN’ HEADS—Now You Say We’re Through
Pretty odd name, eh? Well, there ain’t nothin’ cooler than this li’l pounder, mixing a jews-harp with a brutal Diddleyin’ guitar, and boss poppish choruses. From Los Angeles on CATCH records, but I can’t clue ya to much more info, ‘cauz it would just be lame guesswork.

JIM WHELAN & THE BEAU HAVENS—Elizabeth
Great teen rocker from Rockville, Maryland on the GAMA label, which also issued “Leave Or Stay” by the English Muffins. The group was a gang of 15 year olds who decided in ’65 to be their high school’s rockin’ rulers. Their neighborhood was called Belle Haven, so they figured “Why not call ourselves the BEAU Havens?”, and started playing all the local school dances and frat parties, clad in uniforms of blue shirts, bandanas, black jeans, and brown suede Beetle boots.

This cool, bass-rumbling, tom-tom banging ode to Liz was backed with another great teen punker, “Feel So Good.”

WORLOCKS—I Love You
Elgin, Pennsylvania punk screamer, with a lotta surf influence, and THREE frantic guitar breaks!! Dig the quick-fade ending where the singer yells “COOL IT!” at the guitar player, probably fearing a fourth dose o’ string-bend!

On the BIG ROCK label subsidiary of a C&W label called BIG COUNTRY. (Not to be confused with the new-wave bozos from Europe with the dopey bagpipes.)

HUSH PUPPIES—Look for Another Love
Wild party-trash punk flip-side to their snarling rant to be heard on Side TWO. If ya can’t dig this, you must be a big square, ‘cauz them Pups be wailin’! Organ riffs from “La Cu-caracha” and “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” county fair hawkers yellin’ “See the Hush Puppies! They BARK! They SQUEAK!”, rippin’ guitars, etc. Definitely my FAVE jazz record! The group’s only release, waxed on PLAYBOY records of Hollywood.

BUGS—Slide
Since this side seems to be degenerating into a party sort of atmosphere, why not end up with one of the all-time RULIN’EST honkers ever! This obnoxious pounder is the other side of the Merseybeat-styled “Pretty Girl” (on Pebbles) and was recorded without the band’s knowledge while they were doing a warm-up jam at the studio before a recording session.

The producer dug it so much that he decided they should put it out, and when it was released, the black radio WAAB in Boston made “Slide” their pick hit for a while.

It was recorded at the famed AAA studios on Dorchester Avenue in Boston, where they returned one year later in ’65 to record their fateful follow-up single.

Back From The Grave | Volume 7 (Part One) | (Crypt) 1988

Albert DeSalvo, the famed “Boston Strangler” sold the Bugs the rights to a song he wrote called “My Thoughts and Emotions,” in which he penned a sick ballad that starts out pretty normal, but he starts describing a murderous overdrive compelling him to strangle.

The Bugs laid down a mellow background tune and a New York disc jockey did the speak-over. For the flipside was a Bugs composition, “Albert Albert,” a goofy rocker asking Albert what he’s been doing.

The local papers crucified the Bugs for their “bad taste,” never seeing the humour behind it, and the Bugs were sort of banned. But they continued to play, lasting with the four original members until 1981.

One reason for their long career was that they were basically a family; “Wild” Ed McGee on guitar & vocals, his wife on bass, his brother on rhythm, and a friend drumming. They played shows all over Massachusetts, with Ed as the most outrageous frontman, dressed in crazy outfits his wife custom-designed, and even appeared on a TV show called “WING DING” in Providence, Rhode Island in ’65.

GENTRYS—Wild
I’m gonna just let this FRANTIC mutha do the damage to your noggins, ‘cauz there ain’t much you can say ’bout EXTRIMITY of this proportion! A 1965 release on KATO out of Northern California.

Well, actually I AM gonna do some blabbin’, come to think of it. If any of you are thinkin’ “Gee, this record’s not PUNK, and I don’t here any FUZZ guitar and The Miracle Workers are way more HEAVY, etc.,” WELL, FUCK YOURSELVES! My whole idea with doin’ these albs is to re-construct society’s notions of music, not create some revivalist fag-trend and provide crummy dips with songs they can cover whilst parading around in stoopid “retro” fag-garb.

Take a good look at the band-pix. As a guy from the CHOB said, “We were pretty normal, in fact, we were considered as NERDS.” Well, these groups were NOT nerds, ‘cauz they unleashed the most UNGODLY records of all time, and didn’t go about worrying about what clothes to wear to be cool.

Mosta the “revival” bands that started poppin’ up in ’83-’86 didn’t learn a GODDAM thing from ’70s punk. (The RAMONES obliterated all the guitar-hero damage caused by 10 years of Cream, Dead Zep, Santana, etc., BUT IT LOOKS LIKE NOBODY LEARNED A DAMN THING!

Lookit alla the bullshit goin’ on today: Speed-metal. Dorks like the FLAMING LIPS covering Led Zep and “Tommy,” and sap “punkzine” writers eatin’ it all up an’ thinkin’ they’re dangerous with their “gnarly” skull/bones/Pushead/deathrock imagery.

Crap like the Fuzztones, dyin’ their hair black and suckin’ up to the whole corporate idea of “rock image” in their leather trow, doin’ the whole Jimmy Page-getonmykneesandstrikebitchin’ guitarhero poses, and being adored by similarly stupid “garage rock” fans.

And now with the “Stooges revival,” alla these dumb johnny-come-latelies who start up apin’ the Byrds decide to grow their hair real long and create a new “rock image” as Radio Birdman. I AIN’T KNOCKIN’ the Stooges; I AM KNOCKING the whole damn “fashion” end of this stupid “rock industry,” ‘cauz if yer a true “punk,” WHY DO YA HAFTA WEAR ANYTHING MORE THAN JEANS AND A SHIRT?

Back From The Grave | Volume 7 (Part One) | (Crypt) 1988

Every time you follow trends, you are just supporting the fucking corporate mentality that has fucked up rock ‘n’ roll since day one! I’m not a close-minded tunnel-vision “’60s” twerp. Take a close look at the catalogue I’m pushin’ inside this album; There’s a pretty broad spectrum of musical styles represented—’50s R&B and rockabilly, instrumental rock ‘n’ roll, ’60s punk.

This stuff does not all sound alike, BUT the UNIFYING LINK IS THAT IT’S PURE, SLOPPY, AMATEUR, 2 OR 3-CHORD JUNK. (If I had the financial resources, I’d also have reissues of modern GODS like the Angry Samoans, early Lurkers, Ramones, Users, Raunch Hands, Mighty Caesars, the Pistols, etc. THIS STUFF HAS THE SAME STRIPPED-DOWN BLAM THAT KEEPS ME BREATHING.

I just HATE most modern shit because 99% of it slips into the excesses brought about by years of the BULLSHIT CONCEPT of “MUSICIANSHIP,” which we can all thank the fucking BEATLES for. So what I started out to say but got waylaid is basically that THE WORLD SUCKS SO’ FUCK IT !!! (How’s that for constructive criticism? I really don’t wanna continue this blabbin’ ‘cauz it is completely ineffectual.) BACK TO THE MUSIC.

Back From The Grave | Volume 7 (Part One) | (Crypt) 1988

SYNDICATE—My Baby’s Barefoot
Their debut 45, released in August ’65, with the most INTENSE mid-section raving! Dig the singer ranting ’bout an evil girl whilst the guitar slashes the heck outta everything in its path. This is PUNK-ROCK AT ITS FINEST.

BENDS—If It’s All the Same to You
This ultra-low-fi organ-loaded blaster was unfortunately the sole recorded output by these teen sultans of tension! This great tune was ished as the b-side of an easy-listening tune by a guy named SMOKEY, who tries his hand at Vegas lounge-croonin’, and surprisingly sounding just like that , Limey geek Rick Assley, who’s currently wowing teens into lower states of squareness. THE ONLY THING RICKEY BOY HAS IN COMMON WITH THE BENDS IS THAT HE DOES ‘EM EACH NIGHT WITH HIS RECORD COMPANY PREZ.

HUSH PUPPIES—Hey, Stop Messin’ Around
Extra-snotty levelling of a rich girl with an attitude problem. The thoughtful Pups appear to be preachin’ the clean life to her, Raiders’ “Kicks”-wise, tellin’ her to knock off the booze ‘n’ stuff. With a name like that, you gotta be tough.

Back From The Grave | Volume 7 (Part One) | (Crypt) 1988

CLIQUES—So Hard
More sneering vocal rant so as not to disturb the “ambience.” “Your FACE, baby, leaves me COLD!” Man, that’s a pint o’ sentiment! This hot four-piece formed in summer ’65 to liven up Champaign, Illinois. All 10th graders, one member previously in the INMEN for 1964.

Champaign was a good town for bands because of the large State University, where the group had regular gigs at the CHANCES R and the RED LION INN, as well as places like the BROWN JUG, a high school hang-out called the TIGERS DEN, and lotsa school dances.

They rattled skulls when they appeared in the ’66 Battle of the Bands, which was televised locally on a show called “THE HOP.” Another hot gig was at the U of III’s Summer Youth Music Camp, where frantic girls demanded that the group autograph their thighs!

But topping that out was a show in Westville, “a town with more bars than houses.” The girls there dug the group; their redneck dates did not. As they were leaving, a gang broke out in pursuit of the Cliques’ van, so there they were, bookin’ down a tight alley with the back doors open, swingin’ at the rednecks with mike stands and tossing a barrage of choice lingo at the frothin’ locals!

This crankin’ 45 was their only release, recorded on a chilly day In December ’66 in a basement studio in nearby Urbana. This hot recording session is where the two pix-to-Cliques inside the gatefold were taken, so grab a close peep at the cig hangin’ outta the lead sneerer’s chops. Class or what?!

Back From The Grave | Volume 7 (Part One) | (Crypt) 1988

HEATHENS—The Other Way Around
Schenectady, New York’s RAUNCH KINGS! After having drummed in local combos (Castaways, Wild Ones, Sensations—see photo), 15-year-old Mike Dellario auditioned for lead howler for the Heathens, just forming in late ’65. He won out, and thus was born a truly raucous crew to battle the popp-ish NEWTONES, the surfin’ TURFERS, and the evil REBELMEN, whose drummer sliced open the Heathens’ organist’s leg with a piece of glass after a heated show.

Playing the usual circuit of school hops, Rotary clubs, Elks lodges, and armed with a multitude of Stones’ covers, the Heathens soon became the number 2 local band. This was also due to their manager being a disc jockey, which helped to get gigs. At shows he’d spin records before the bands went on, and he’d amp up the crowd by wailin’ the Heathens 45 between the usual hits.

His one rather tough demand was that they let him sing Paul Anka’s “Diana” every night, to the raunchy & unwilling accompaniment of the Heathens.

They recorded this 45 in early ’67 at Nate Schwartz’ renovated/converted garage, named VIBRA STUDIOS. This was truly a primitive set-up, with the garage as studio, and the basement as engineer booth, and an intercom system between the two rooms, so there was no eye contact between the band and the engineer.

But with results like this, you’ve got plenty of motivation to go on a rampage burning down today’s sterilization studios. Why’s this song such a classic? Well, just dig this line: “I’d rather be DYING WITH YOU, than be ALREADY DEAD WITH HER!”

They ished their 45 on VIBRA Records, with the oft-bootlegged “Problems” on the flip, which is an equally venomous punker. Splitsville came in just before they graduated high school in ’67, but the Heathens’ legacy shall remain forever.

BEEP BEEP & THE ROADRUNNERS—True Love Knows Double-drummers provide the boss poundin’ that kicks this too cool teen-rocker off to a start, tho’ have no fear: Far be it for Beep Beep & Co to dork off in hippy excess like another 2-drummer band of hippies who should be Dead.

These guys were Worcester, Mass’ prime rulers, forming in ’62 (aged 10-12) as a five-piece, and then adding a 2nd drummer two months later as an attention-grabbing “gimmick”.

For their first year, they played only instrumentals, covering lotsa Ventures and surf hits. In ’63 they adapted to the Brit Invasion by mixing in a good amount of vocal numbers, tho’ as you can hear on this song, they certainly didn’t Limey-out, as there’s a HEAVY surf-instro pound driving this along. (For further proof of their surf-prowess, grab “STRUMMIN’ MENTAL VOLUME FIVE” for the b-side of this song, a HOT pounder called “Shiftin’ Gears”.)

This was their first release, ished in ’65 on the 2nd drummer’s dad’s label, VINCENT Records. The dad also was their manager, and a damn busy one, nabbing ’em a lotta air-play on the local station WORC, and setting up a lot of paying shows for them, including all of WORC’s outdoor concerts.

Local competition included the NEW BREED (famed for the great “Wasting My Time”), the JONESES, the PERSONALS, and the NIGHTRIDERS (who released a fairly dull 45, “She’s Mine”.)

Back From The Grave | Volume 7 (Part One) | (Crypt) 1988

In ’66 they hired on an organ player, becoming a seven-piece, and cut their second 45, a cool cover of “Watermelon Man”, backed with an original, “Don’t Run”. For this 45 they completely moved away from the by-now “uncool” surf sound, using an Animals-y “soul”-ish sound. They released one more 45 in the tail end of ’69, and in ’73 they finally decided to call it quits, lasting a pretty amazing 11 years. (BY THE WAY, PLEASE EXCUSE THE NOISY SOUND ON THIS TUNE. IT’S A RIDICULOUSLY RARE RECORD AND ALL COPIES IN EXISTENCE LOOK LIKE THE WORCESTER HOCKEY TEAM USED ‘EM FOR PRACTICE PUCKS.)

SNAILS—Snails’ Love Theme
Not exactly yer typical “love theme,” and you sure as heck won’t see this on any Adult Contemporary (read “braindead yuppie”) radio! These young hepcats began terrorizin’ their hometown of Smyrna, Georgia in ’64, at the early ages of 11 to 13. Naming themselves after sitting on a back porch for an afternoon, racking their brains for a suitable monicker—and lo and behold!—what crawls by but a slimy snail!

They started practicing “everywhere—we had to move because people kept calling the police!” In their early days, these frequent location shiftings were a rough time, because they were too young to drive, so they’d have to lug their equipment around in a little red wagon. (Which further boosts my total state of AWE regarding these guys! If anybody out there doesn’t dig this song, THEN GET OFF THIS PLANET!!)

They saved up their meagre earnings from shows and made the trek to a basement studio (dubbed “Perfection Studios” by the proud owner) in 1966 and proceeded to get about a recording session in the Snail manner!

They invited a bunch of neighbourhood teens in, tempting them with free grub and the honour of inclusion on their disc. Things got frantically (AND BRILLIANTLY) out of hand, as you can hear. DIG the shouts of “I WANT MY HAMBURGER!”, “MORE CORNBREAD!”, “I WANT MY SANDWICH!”, etc. COOL is a thing that can’t be bought!

These cats dish out cool in a lethal dose! My fave line is where the guitarist yells “CUT IT OUT! LET ME PLAY LEAD!” Anyway, before I overdo my blabbin’, I’ll finish the Snails’ tale: After ishing this on the PERFECTION label, the guys played for another one-and-a-half years before splitting up in early ’68. (NO DOUBT DISILLUSIONED BY THE DISASTROUS EFFECT ON MUSIC CAUSED BY THE MORONIC PSUCKADELIC ERA AND “SGT. PEPPER.”)

Back From The Grave | Volume 7 (Part One) | (Crypt) 1988

HALF-PINT AND THE FIFTHS—Orphan Boy
Chicago BLUES at its finest! Half-Pint’s woeful tale of misery shall surely make you cough up that bit o’ change the next time a wino starts washin’ yer windshield with his day-old slobber sparingly dabbed on a pair o’ crusty Fruit-‘O-The-Looms. (Mebbe this is just an NYC trad, but y’might’ve experienced somethin. similar. If not, ‘scuse the localism.)

This way-cool ORLYN release of ’66 trods along to a stonesy percussion, detailing graphically the survival means of a street urchin: “Racking pool tables for a nickel a game,” selling blood for chow money, etc. Definitely a relief from hearin’ old guitar-hero hippies like Crapton et al “bluesing” about a “rough life” while their coke-filled limo awaits their Beck and call.

I’ve caught a lotta grief for knockin’ the Yardbirds, but I’ll stick by what I’ve said: By 1966, those clowns’d lost all track of Bo & Chuck and ARE TO BLAME for THE ENTIRE SLEW OF FUCKING GUITAR HEROES (whose guitars don’t EVEN SOUND LIKE A GUITAR!), and WHAT’S MORE: Crapton & Cream, Page & Zep, Beck & “Fusion” ARE THE BACKBONE OF GODDAMN “CLASSIC ROCK” AND this so-called “NEW BREED” of GUITAR-JACKOFF BULLSHIT idolized by ex-“garage rock” bandwagoners who are to blame for the fagging-out of ’60s punk.

The CULT and their ilk were limey synth-geeks until they figured they could get rich re-hashing Zep and Bad Company. I ain’t gonna name names, cuz these self-worshipping “originators” of the TURD-LICK –60s revival” know who they are. All’s I can say is good luck with yer new TREND, and I hope Ian Assburied cornholes yer ignorant butts. If ya think yer smarter for “diversifying” or “broadening” yer horizons, keep dreamin’. You couldn’t dig trashy ’50s junk-rock cauz it didn’t have that METAL BACKBONE that you CLAIMED TO HATE when you “became a punk” in ’77, and you couldn’t ADOPT a “fashion” to “dig ’50s junk to,” so you “DIVERSIFIED” into suckin’ up to HORSESHIT like speed-metal, rap, or whatever.

Mebbe it’s cauz ya couldn’t get laid by garage chicks,” so ya “diversified” into that ’70s crap ’cause of the bitchin’ babes”: Well, SWING, YOU FUCKING SWINGERS! I’d rather be celibate than hoppin’ in the sack with some “babe” who digs Black Sabbath. Alla the johnny-come-lately “garage rock” bands now tryin’ to be the Stooges will NEVER EVEN COME CLOSE, and where were they in ’76-’78 while Monoman or Prevost were scorching out “BOY FROM NO-WHERE” or “HEY MISTER”?

It looks like I lost track of what I originally was tryin’ to say about the Yardbirds. What it all comes down to is this: The DOWNLINERS SECT were A ZILLION TIMES COOLER THAN THE YARDBIRDS, ’cause in ’66 while every other ’64 UK R&B band had moved on to playing “progressive rock,” they were BLASTING OUT RAW ROCK ‘N’ ROLL). OK, enuf of this babble. IF I’VE PISSED OFF ANY OF YA WITH MY RANTING, THAT WAS THE POINT. AND BY NOW YOU’VE ALREADY PAID FOR THIS ALBUM, SO TOUGH SHIT. YOU CAN ALWAYS TRADE IT IN FOR THE NEW ZODIAK MINDWARP ALBUM.

Liner notes taken from Volume 7. Read more Graves here.