The Pandoras
It's About Time

Not all beautiful stories have a happy ending. Many of those that were told to us rough garage-punksters do not.

Take the story of Paula.

Paula is a girl who has an insane passion for garage-punk, and she is with Shelley who eats garage-punk for breakfast; so Shelley, who already has a band, encourages Paula to form one together with some peers; but it's a band in name only, given that Paula practically does everything herself.

Paula hustles everywhere to get gigs to play anywhere; somewhere, she's noticed by Greg who is the head of a knock-out record label; and it turns out that Paula's band ends up recording for Greg's label.

Paula is not a favorite, nothing to do with being the boss's girl, it's a crime to even think it: she has great talent and will surely go far, so it's only natural she works for the best record label on the planet garage-punk.

And then an all-female garage band hadn't been seen: there are the Runaways, the Go-Go's, and the Bangles, then the rrrrriot girls will come, but Paula and the Pandoras are something else.

They play uncompromising garage-punk straight from the Sixties of Nuggets and Pebbles and have no use for a spot under the spotlights, so to hell with the plasticized trends reigning those days; and it's clear that not even the music business knows what to do with such a group. And so, soon enough, the charts will be dominated by the Bangles, while they will remain forever in the shadows.

But around Paula and the Pandoras, a small cult grows and still lasts today, made of pogo and headbanging on and off the stage and great vibes that flow from the amps straight to the hearts of a bunch of garage-maniacs.

The cult blossoms between the grooves of «It's About Time».

At the time, garage was the stuff of Fuzztones and Gravedigger V, ugly zombie faces and gravediggers that arouse fear and suspicion. Would you ever let your daughter go out with Rudi Protrudi? No way, damn it, I'd shoot him if I saw him coming down my driveway, and I'd shove down his throat the bones that adorn his neck and wrists one by one.

Then come the Pandoras and «It's About Time» from the cover is an explosion of color and yé-yé garage.

The yé-yé garage is what emanates from the grooves of the title-track and from tracks beautiful, beautiful, beautiful like «He's Not Far» and «I Live My Life», not to mention «It Just Ain't True». All fruits of Paula's pen, because she is full of talent and, unlike many garage companions, she decidedly favors her own compositions over easy and appealing covers.

Then there are the riffs stolen from «Gloria» and «Louie Louie» and the orthodox garage of «I Want Him» and the little anthem «Want Need Love», and it's still a great listening experience; as is the horrific instrumental surf of «Haunted Beach Party».

All very beautiful, but the commercial success is what it is.

So the Pandoras break up, Paula and the others argue over who can continue to use the band name.

Paula wins out and reforms the band from scratch and puts together a second album, «Stop Pretending», which is a marvel of freshness and garage vigor as rarely heard.

Then a mini and a live album, more quarrels, and the band splits again and what one can presume is that Paula doesn't have an easy character.

Then comes the end, which is not happy: Paula dies of an aneurysm, not even thirty years old. And it's a great shame that the story ends this way.