Pretty Things live ’67… and the Valiant Little Tailor

By Mike Stax

The Pretty Things may not have been the most commercially successful band of the ‘60s, but at street level, around the world, they had more influence and credibility than many of their more popular contemporaries. One band who formed in homage to the Pretties is Valiant Little Tailor, a short-lived outfit from Wuppertal, in the North Rhine-Westphalia region of Germany, a band so obscure they don’t even rate a mention in Hans-Jurgen Klitch’s definitive German Beat book, Shakin’ All Over.

Valiant Little Tailor, 1967. L to R: Michael Müller, Uli Schmidt, Klaus Meier.

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What Kind of a Person Reads Ugly Things?

Bun E. Carlos of Cheap Trick.

Oh Yeah! Jim Sohns of the Shadows of Knight digging his UTs, circa 1991. (Photo: Big Vic Baltusis)

Will Sergeant of Echo & the Bunnymen (Photo: jeremy nobody, esq)

Mark Sultan a.k.a. BBQ. (Photo: jeremy nobody esq)

Having a Read Up with the Yardbirds. John Idan (left) and Chris Dreja, 2002.

Oh How to Do Now: Dave Day of the Monks.

If you don’t dig this fanzine — get yerself a crewcut, baby! Dick Dodd of the Standells tries it.

Doyle of the Misfits. Mommy, can I go out and… READ TONIGHT!

Ugly Freaks, Daddy! Ray Collins of the Mothers of Invention is surprised to see UT got the scoop on Baby Ray & the Ferns.

Moulty of the Barbarians digs what the new breed say.

The Monks – Monk Time

This article was the cover story of Issue #11 of UGLY THINGS in the spring of 1992. At this point in time, only two of the original Monks had been located. In the years that followed there would be a book (Eddie Shaw’s Black Monk Time), reunion concerts, an award-winning documentary (Transatlantic Feedback, directed by Dietmar Post and Lucia Palacios), tribute albums, and numerous reissues. But UGLY THINGS got there first.

I’d like to dedicate this article to the memories of Dave Day Havlicek and Roger Johnston.

MONKS STORY by Mike Stax / INTERVIEWS by Keith Patterson and Mike Stax

The music of the Monks is the stuff of true greatness: huge chunks of reverberating bass and drum rhythms, beaten into further frenzied overdrive by the atonal gash of an electrified banjo; this overlaid with the rapid-fire piercing squeals of delirious organ wailings and the hum and howl of fuzz and feedback as some maniac jaggedly assaults an electric guitar; this all pushing forward the angst-driven, aggressive voices shouting: “I hate you baby with a passion…” “People go to their deaths for you…” “Boys are boys and girls are joys…” “Pussy galore is coming down and we like it… we don’t like the atomic bomb…” “Shut up! Don’t cry!” and “Higgle-Dy Piggle-Dy—let’s do it!”

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