The World
The Explosive Sound of the Atlantics by the Atlantics (1964)
If you travel west from Sydney, Australia, you get to Cape Town in just under 7,000 miles. Or you could go east and get to Buenos Aires in a little bit more than that. Still, the instrumental quartet from Sydney chose to name their band the Atlantics. It would be like me calling my Washington, DC band Tuvalu.
However, when you hear the band, it begins to make a little more sense. This is instrumental surf music in the finest tradition of Dick Dale. “Dimitrius,” the opening track on their third album is practically a western hoedown fueled by Theo Penglis’ sweet guitar licks. There is the lovely, melodic “Cherry Pink & Apple Blossom White,” the galloping energy of “The Sheriff of Nottingham,” and their own take on Dave Brubeck with “Rondo a La Turk,” which all employ the same basic approach while varying the sounds and rhythms just enough to keep things from ever getting monotonous.
The Atlantics' best-known song, “Bambora,” came out on an earlier album, but I think Explosive Sound is a bit more complete.
Black Monk Time by the Monks (1966)
The Monks came from Gelnhausen, Germany, but they sure sounded like a bunch of Americans. That’s because they were. A group of young American soldiers stationed in what was then known as West Germany decided to spend their free time basically inventing punk rock. They recorded one album that had all the swagger of the best punks to come.
They announced themselves on the opening track “Monk Time,” then launched into a series of simple, high-energy tracks like “Shut Up,” with its psychedelic organ riff, and “I Hate You,” which begin with a stately organ before turning into a slinky jazz number built around … well, just look at the title.
Their biggest hit was the gruffly primitive ode to adolescent romance “Boys are Boys and Girls are Choice,” which I think is a misspelling of the title because it sure sounds like they are chanting “boys are boys and girls are joys” when I listen. They also had the chugging “Complication,” which could have served as a model for the Knack a decade later. The Monks split up and reformed a couple of times over the years.
They never really moved beyond those early structures, and I don’t imagine they would have really gone much farther had they been given the chance. Then again, I kind of remember thinking the same thing about Ramones, and they did pretty well following in the footsteps of the Monks.
Bakerloo by Bakerloo (1969)
Now we’re getting into some serious blues rock, courtesy of this trio from the Midlands. If Clem Clempson wasn’t quite as explosive as Eric Clapton, he came awfully close, and on their one and only album, you might think you are hearing Cream. The opening track, “Big Bear Ffolly,” is a letter-perfect blues instrumental.
But they could go beyond that, throwing a blues harmonica into the sinewy Willie Dixon cover “Bring It On Home,” or adding Clemson’s turn on harpsichord to crossover on some Johann Sebastian and the ultra-cool “Drivin’ Backwards.” There are slow-burning blues like “This Worried Feeling” and more guitar workouts like “Last Blues,” all culminating with the glorious sludge of “Son of Moonshine,” 14 solid minutes of a blues sonata that moves like a freight train. Clemson left to join another band after the Bakerloo album and eventually would replace Peter Frampton in Humble Pie.
Get the Picture by Pretty Things (1965)
Pretty Things’ biggest failing is that they weren’t the Rolling Stones. They came out of London at the same time, playing a similar brand of blues-drenched rock & roll that had enough hooks to attract some radio interest. Vocalist Phil May was more gruff than Mick Jagger and not quite as hypnotic, but he was still a first-rate blues shouter. In Dick Taylor, they had a guitarist who could match Keith Richard’s blues riffs.
On their second album, side A is comprised of mostly originals, and several of them are true standouts, like the moody “Can’t Stand the Pain,” and the funky “We’ll Play House.” They also throw in a number of diverse covers, including Slim Harpo’s “Rainin’ in My Heart” and a surprisingly sweet take on Solomon Burke’s “Cry to Me.” The album closes with May shouting out Ike Turner’s “Gonna Find Me a Substitute.”