
The Monks
Early Monks 1964-65 / Black Monk Time

[Arbitrary Signs/Apostasy; 2005]
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Styles: skronk rock
Others: Live Skull, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks
Numerous burgeoning post-punks have thrown around the "No Wave" tag to describe
their despondent experimentation, but often the implications seem to point to
some of the more accessible acts that made waves around the mini-movement’s
waning days (for example, UT and many great, yet much more restrained post-Pop
Group projects like Maximum Joy and Rip Rig & Panic; even the unclassifiable
individualism of post-funk/disco geniuses like Liquid Liquid and ESG sometimes
gets lumped in with the No Wave explosion). While No Wave is, to this day, open
to interpretation, the promise of a band able to own up to the polarizing
nihilism of the sub-genre’s most unruly spawns (i.e., Lydia Lunch, Mars, DNA)
feels like wishful thinking when any troop with a Sonic Youth-influence purports
to deliver some non-existent sequel to No New York.
Well, The Magik Markers are it, folks. If any modern No Wave band has slithered,
spewed, and thrashed its bile on the faces of a totally blindsided rock ’n’ roll
nation with such gorgeous gusto, it’s this trio of noise-mongers. It’s hard to
know where to begin when describing what the Markers do. Maybe it’s that Elisa
Ambrogio forgoes the "no chords" rule a young Jad Fair set forth with and
doesn’t even bother playing notes, or that (former) member Leah Quimby’s
battalion of atonal bass thumps sound more like the apocalypse personified than
anything resembling music, or that Pete Nolan’s drumming recalls a potential
murder victim scurrying away from their axe-wielding killers in an infinite
loop. They’re one of those bands that has to be heard or seen to be believed,
and love them or hate them, they’re guaranteed to get a reaction.
On that note, it took a few times seeing the band live before I could even
conceive an opinion: were they the greatest living, breathing musicians in the
universe, or was it all simply wretched nonsense laughing at all the fools who
have just been had? Live, the band is potentially both at once, and across a
CD-R/vinyl catalog to last a good box set or two, releases like Feel The
Crayon proved the studio was the only thing that could reign in these three
for a bit and establish some type of context for critical conclusions to be
drawn.
While not as powerful as this year’s factory-pressed CD or the sadly out-of-print vinyl opus I Trust My Guitar, Etc., Feel The
Crayon is pretty factual proof (to noise-rock and No Wave fiends, anyway)
that the Markers are not to be taken for granted. In a poorly-recorded
environment, a terrifying claustrophobic tension is added to the Markers’
dissonance. Ambrogio’s tirades, recalling perhaps Mark E. Smith as a
schizophrenic street preacher, feel all the more like she’s purging herself of
bona fide demons (nowhere better than on "Just A Child") while the Quimby/Nolan
forcefield has the swagger of an oubliette’s house band. And what’s most
successful about Crayon is that it aptly argues for the Markers as more
than a trio of pranksters having a go at stuffy music folks, if the dynamics of
a track like "Creaking Jesus" are anything to go by.
But what one realizes somewhere down the line while listening to Crayon
is that the Markers are so special because they honestly seem to not give a
shit. If they don’t have much "talent" by the length virtuosos measure, then so
fucking what? Didn’t punk rock set out to obliterate all these notions of
"talent" corresponding to great music? Such visceral noise, regardless of
musical abilities, has its own special power. And dicking around is certainly
not something to accuse the Markers of; their caterwauling has the urgency of
their life depending on every shard of feedback reverberating as powerfully as
allowable. And honestly, if No Wave was a reaction against punk becoming too
conservative, what better time for a band like the Markers than during the
commodification of every possible underground musical movement? Rock ’n’ roll is
becoming more and more lifeless with every passing month, which is why we need
bands like the Magik Markers more than ever.
1. White Bikini
2. My Sweet
3. Hero For Our Times Pt. 1
4. Hero For Our Times Pt. 2
5. Creaking Jesus
6. Just A Child
7. Fuck You