The third, Puzzle (and it is a puzzle why they switched keyboardists and added an orchestra, but it’s the only one I still listen to much) featured an Escheresque (or perhaps it was M.C.) painting of a circular parade of gigantic chrome-plated maggots endlessly slithering up the down staircase. I swear I don’t make these up. If I’d come up with an idea like that, don’t you think I’d save it for my own album cover? And can’t you just imagine what sort of reviews a thing like that would earn nowadays?
Wouldn’t you know it? This is the one I own only on tape. Visuals aside, it’s a surprisingly good album, far more minimalist in some ways than one would have expected, with the added orchestration and keyboards used in a droning, hypnotic, repetitious manner that suggested that somebody might have been hip to 20th-century avant-garde, in addition to the 18th-century stylings they had been dealing in previously. In among the trance-out suites there were also a few simpler, sparer tunes that recalled those on their first album. And without that synthetic harpsichord trilling in your ear like a sewing-machine contracting rabies it was possible, finally, to hear them.
But this was a musical departure that never caught fire with the listening public, who had heard all they would ever care to of the MM on their first album or two. How to describe that sound? Like Phluph they had a vocalist, guitarist, bass, drums and keyboard, but that’s about the only resemblance. These guys were everything critics of the genre love to hate about it--incredibly solemn and self-conscious, and they had no boogie-woogie in their souls. So what? Unlike some latterday progressive acts, they neither aspired nor pretended to, so why dump on them for that? There was a certain haunting quality to them that was rather unique: an excellent listening choice for the day after a heavy trip, as you’re trying to reintegrate yourself with everyday reality...or if you’re a truly hardcore alchemist, trying to integrate everyday reality with where you’ve just been. Which is a far more useful attitude to take if you’re gonna bother to make the journey at all. But I digress.
Randy Monaco, their vocalist, had only one trick up his sleeve, yet it was devastating: a lysergic croon that’s been described as “mellow, pleasing” yet sounded as if parts of him had lived several successive 500-year lifetimes of navel-gazing and were more than capable of sucking you into a similar karma. (He eventually mutated into a Philly-soul producer and died of a heart attack in the late 80s, but that really kills the romance so forget I said it.)
Their keyboardist, Michael (“Hey you! In the glasses!”) Kac, had a cheepo electric harpsichord and a cheepissimo electric pianosorta. He’d cornhole J. S. Bach on the former, then (on the particularly mellow, pleasing tunes) noodle absentmindedly on the latter. He was a distraction as annoying as he was fascinating.
Their lead guitarist, Craig Anderton, was as good as these second-string guys get...damn good, in fact. The only one in this band to truly get a life once the 60s ended, Craig got into computers and electronic music in a big way, eventually becoming something of a MIDI guru, writing a text on the subject that was more than a little helpful one time when I had to do a term paper. So he can do no wrong in my book. He made a New Age LP in the late 80s, which I’d gladly buy if I could ever find it in the bargain bin, but it never is.
The percussionist, J. Kevin Lally (mygod, just from the names of these people you know they can’t boogie-woogie! You can’t dance a gavotte. Leave ’em alone.), had a couple more doohickeys in his drumkit than a lot of other people did, but he’d bash everything indiscriminately. He was the animal of the bunch, so don’t let him be misunderstood.
Put these four guys together, and you get a sound that’s...well...every time I hear the first album in particular, there’s this haunting vibe...I mean literally, to the point where I refuse to put it on because I don’t want those tunes bouncing around my head for the next week or two. There’s just something about them--for all their good intentions there is some vibe they put out that (far more than anything so obvious as an Alice Cooper or Marilyn Manson) feels fundamentally un-healthy. Or perhaps there’s an alien subtext that goes through your psychic gullet like a gram of Olestra, with similar etheric effects? No matter. The very essence of psychedelia is that it be capable of taking your head somewhere...other. If that’s the yardstick, then perhaps these guys aren’t second-stringers at all. Here and there, CDs may be purchased. If any of this makes you even slightly curious where they’ll take you, then go right ahead. You’ve been warned; hear them now, forget them never.
Along with the Nazz, this was one of Philadelphia’s top bands throughout the late 60’s. Prior to Puzzle, they released two good rock albums that had a vague Doors influence, mixing keyboards with guitar oriented psychedelia. Puzzle, released in 1969, is an extremely challenging album that is not recommended to those who are into song oriented pop. It’s also a very progressive album that mixes classical/avant garde elements into a dreamy soundscape.
The album is really a mood piece, with plenty of strange moments including one track devoted to a choir of children praying while Whisper Play has, you guessed it, whispers amongst a classical backdrop. Randy Monaco croons throughout the album and there is the occasional guitar freakout, one heard at the end of the 9 minute instrumental Bucket of Air. The reoccuring theme, Just a Blur is a nice, short trippy piece of acoustic music that hints at a concept.
For the era, the Puzzle album is somewhat long, clocking in at around 50 minutes. The real meat of the album lies within the songs. Earthfriend and Hiding are so ambient and so full of great sound effects that they predate a style of psychedelia that Spacemen 3 pioneered throughout the late 80’s. Ocean’s Daughter is another great, menacing song, being a trippy psychedelic ballad with studio trickery and light orchestration. The song characterizes the album itself: confused, dark and unsettling on one hand but alluring and full of beauty on the other. Even the album cover art is really weird and demented, featuring a well known painting with chrome plated maggots inching their way up an endless flight of stairs.
While not for everyone, Puzzle shrouds itself in a velvet mystery. It’s a totally unique experience within the world of pyschedelia that sounds completely unfamilar
1. Earthfriend (Prelude)
2. Earthfriend
3. Just A Blur (Version 1)
4. Hiding
5. Just A Blur (Version 2)
6. Tadpole
7. Kyrie
8. Ocean's Daughter
9. Volcano (Prelude)
10. Volcano
11. Whisper Play
12. Bucket Of Air (1)
13. Bucket Of Air (2)
14. childrens Prayer
15. Puzzle
Mandrake Memorial: Randy Monaco (vocals, bass); Craig Anderton (guitar); Michael Kac (keyboards); Kevin Lally (drums).
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