Gandalf
Life moves by quick in this city.
Nothing ever stays around for too long and a moment is worth everything.
There’s a lot of talent out there that never quite bubbles to the top of the pot; some of the most gifted people happen to be at the right place at the wrong time (or vice versa). But that’s the nature of the beast, and the sad reason why a lot of deserving bands never received the spotlight that destiny disallowed them.
There’s also endless sauce that gets tainted by the grotty hands of corporate mismanagement.
Originally known as The Rahgoos, Gandalf were a prominent psychedelic band in the mid 60’s NYC live music scene. Their high dosed, bohemian, stained glass sound rang all throughout Greenwich Village and the greater Tri-State area, where they had a considerate amount of buzz before a series of label blunders extinguished their fire. This included disconnected cover art, a forced name change, poor mixing that suppressed their vision, as well as a screw up far more unforgivable than those aforementioned: the stifled release of their debut EP where it was discovered there was another band’s album in their record sleeve.
While at the time this was considered a kiss of death, the magic of Gandalf is well and alive (I’m writing about them in big 2025). Their self titled project has a cult following, and for very good reason.
The moment you press play, a siren’s song lures you into the water and you find yourself being slowly dragged into the deep end. There’s mystery, there’s intrigue; if there’s any light here it’s gleaming from the moon. Like many songs on this album, Golden Earrings is merely a cover. This particular song was based off an old Gypsy tune and it’s evident in it’s allure and mystique, but others were renditions of their contemporaries’ music such as folk singer Tim Hardin, whose songs made multiple appearances on the album.
Their own material was written by guitarist Peter Sando, who infused a lot of eastern elements as well as an all encompassing brand of lyricism that would probably blanket well over most psychedelic tracks. I don’t think it’s hard to please someone tripping, however it is very easy to displease them. I can assure you though, this album is optimized for the wandering mind.
The signature sound here is characterized by hazy guitars, grounding organs, and strong percussion, which the band felt was overlooked and washed out by the album’s producers who weren’t so collaborative on the mix. This is why it has been recommended that you listen to the album loud, in order to get a feel for the heavier qualities that defined Gandolf’s true identity before others diluted their work.
I feel like there are a few different prevalent themes and scenes set for the listener, all with a kaleidoscopic undertone that ties the project together. Sometimes the guitar weeps and the drums crash down like waves on the shore, and it feels like I’m wandering a coastline at night searching for the answers in my life. Sometimes it feels like I’m getting my palms read and my cards drawn by a fortune teller under the warm flame of candle light, in an act far more intimate than sex. Sometimes I’m reminded of my comforting walks through London’s magnificent graveyards, all thanks to the lighter toned B3 organ that is equally existential as it is playful. And other times the analogue vocal effects take me to an all too familiar sun-bleached day dream that I never want to wake up from.
After listening to this album all the way through in it’s full glory, I want you to be reminded that this band did not “make it” in their own eyes. While it may be a cult classic and a stellar achievement in the subgenre of Psychedelic Rock, their label killed all hope of Gandalf becoming the massive success that they deserved to be. Bands, heed this warning. Fans, take this as a sign to go support independent musicians and help them flourish without a label. Don’t know where to start? Well lucky for you, you’re in good hands. I’ll see you on the other side.
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