This album was a major game-changer for me and so many of my friends. In 1989 my friend Jordon came back from a school music class/band trip to Boston with a bunch of albums you couldn’t get in Pembroke, Ont. I remember one was The Wonderstuff (our band used to cover Wish Away) and another was the debut album by Syracuse’s Masters Of Reality. I lived out in the country and didn’t have cable, but Jordon had seen the band’s video for the song The Blue Garden, and made a note to try to find it. Even the record was beautiful — dark blue and psychedelic. It’s self-titled, but often referred to as The Blue Garden because of the sleeve artwork. It helped, of course, that the band was named after a Black Sabbath album, especially the one with Children Of The Grave.
Every damn song on the Masters’ debut is loveable, many of them as good a guitar rock song as you’ll ever hear both in composition and performance. But, back in 1989, grunge hadn’t happened yet. We were all just finished with and recently bored of Zeppelin, Sabbath, AC/DC, Boston, ZZ Top, Deep Purple, etc., and there really wasn’t much straight-ahead rock out there. Of course, this would all change very soon with the likes of Danzig, Soundgarden and the like. We hadn’t yet embraced punk and were still blissfully unaware of Hüsker Dü, Meat Puppets, Minutemen and the like. So Masters of Reality were like a gift. A bridge between the classics and the eventual glut of so-called alt-rock bands which would dominate the 1990s. Masters founder/frontman Chris Goss is himself a walking symbol of this transition — being the key figure behind Masters and then having a major role in both Kyuss and Queens Of The Stone Age.
The band got its start in the early ’80s via the home recordings of Goss and co-founder lead guitarist Tim Harrington. The duo used the same cheesy 1970s drum machine we had — a Rhythm Ace — and used two tape machines to dub and re-dub instruments and vocals. Eventually the project blossomed into a four-piece band with (not Debbie) Googe on bass and Vinnie Ludovico on drums (more on him later!).
They started playing shows, and made a demo which eventually ended up in the hands of Rick Rubin — who liked it enough to go see the band in person in 1986. He signed them to Def American and began working with them on the debut we’re re-examining here today. He helped Goss find a sound which he still utilizes to this day — big and dry, which was not at all the formula for the times. It really was the Rubin touch. You can tell the albums he produced from the ’80s and ’90s. They all have that stripped-down feel, that big drum sound, no reverb, no strings — and it fits the debut down to the ground. There are five more studio albums and two live albums, pretty much all of them with different musicians.
There are two different song sequences of the debut album — the original vinyl one, and the 1990 CD reissue after Goss broke the band up and left Def American for Delicious. Despite the fact that the CD has the incredible bonus track Doraldina’s Prophecies, I prefer the vinyl sequence. So we’ll stick to that. Incidentally, Doraldina’s Prophecies was one of the very earliest Masters Of Reality tracks. It appears to have been slated for the debut record due to the fact that some of its lyrics graced the gatefold sleeve.
It opens with the explosive, stoneriffic instrumental Theme The For The Scientist Of The Invisible, which really showcases Ludovico’s drumming chops. He is absolutely incredible on this album — a model for my own drumming. I know every little thing he does on it. I have no idea why Goss moved on without him when he broke the band up a few months later. I suppose it has a lot to do with the fact that he managed to convince Ginger Baker to join. It saddens me that Vinnie isn’t up to much these days. Maybe I should see if he wants to play on one of my songs? Ooooh.
Anyway, he’s a sick, overlooked drummer. Much like Les Warner, who was the drummer on another Rubin-produced record: Electric by The Cult. Warner now lives in Vegas, where he regularly performs at the New York, New York Hotel & Casino in The Celtic Rockers. I digress.
Next up is a song we used to cover with great gusto — Domino. It’s a damn masterpiece, this song. A perfect rock song. It’s up there with Toys In The Attic for me. Thinking person’s guitar rock.
“Walking down the street
I can feel the tension
Everybody on me
Like I’m some kinda suspect.”
Then we’re treated to The Blue Garden, my personal favourite from the album. If you love heavy psych, Hammond organ and wah-pedal, this is your jam. Speaking of that wah-wah, it might be one of the best Cry Baby solos ever. Take a bow, Tim. Incidentally — and bizarrely — he’s another guy who should be way more busy and way more famous.
Next up is Gettin’ High, which has a cool-coy little riff which reminds me a bit of The WASP (Texas Radio and the Big Beat) by The Doors. This might have been the one I would have swapped out to make room for Doraldina’s Prophecies. Though if you repressed the album as a double at 45 rpm, it would all fit and sound amazing.
The Candy Song is the second-last song on the side. There aren’t many songs about prostitutes I like as much as this. It’s somehow dumb and clever at the same time — and catchy as hell. The songs-about-having-sex-with-women theme continues on the last track, Magical Spell.
“Don’t she look good
Don’t she look fine
She needs to be picked
Like fruit off the vine
Ain’t she got class
Ain’t she got style
She’s got the right ass
But all the while
Ain’t I a wreck
My can’t you tell
I fell into her magical spell.”
There’s definitely some Aerosmith feels on this, but more playful and less drunk.
Flip the record over for The Eyes Of Texas, where things get a little ZZ Top-esque. Sleepwalkin‘ follows. This was not among my favourites as a 17-year-old, but I love it now. The harmony guitars, the tone … it’s a greasy groover.
Then we’re treated to three beauties, starting with the acoustic guitar/tambourine Lookin’ To Get Rite. It’s goddamned authentic, and has more than a few Led Zeppelin III overtones. Next is John Brown, which has always reminded me of John Sinclair by John Lennon/Elephant’s Memory. Except it’s better. Lennon’s is about a guy who got jail time for weed. Goss’s number is about the American abolitionist. Compare Lennon’s track with Goss’s:
“It ain’t fair, John Sinclair
In the stir for breathin’ air.”
“John Brown, bring him down
Pull his body to the ground.”
Finally, we arrive at the epic Kill The King, which steals a riff from one of the unlikeliest of Zeppelin songs — For Your Life from Presence. I love this damn song, it’s dark, cool and has an extended ending bit which is up there with She’s So Heavy.
You need this album. It’ll put a smile on your face, and then you’ll do like Goss and put it away for a decade. 4/5
Here’s the playlist in proper vinyl order — and with Doraldina’s Prophecies.
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Area Resident is an Ottawa-based journalist, recording artist, music collector and re-seller. Hear (and buy) his music on Bandcamp, email him HERE, follow him on Instagram and check him out on Discogs.
