Slambovian Invasion: Gandalf Murphy and the Slambovian Circus of Dreams comes to town armed with myth, magic and fantastical music.

By TERRI LAGERSTEDT

The Myth

Once upon a time in a magical place called Slambovia there lived a guitar-slinging minstrel by the name of Gandalf Murphy. One night Gandalf had a dream and in his dream he saw a circus. But this was no happy circus. The once-majestic lions and tigers were roaring and clawing to escape their cages, the clowns' painted eyes overflowed with tears that turned down the corners of their exaggerated smiles, and the trapeze artists were too terrified to take leaps and fly through the air. Gandalf lowered his eyes and walked amid the chaos to the center of the ring. Just as a single tear began to form, the minstrel saw something out of the corner of his eye. An old derby lay quietly on the ground. Holding his guitar in one hand, he bent over and picked it up. Something about the hat made him smile, so he placed it on his head, drew it low over his brow and began to strum his guitar. As he continued to stroll through the circus, strumming and humming quietly, the chaos began to dissipate. The roars of the big cats turned to purrs, the clowns dried their eyes, and overhead, a single trapeze began to swing. Gandalf woke from his dream and knew it was time to venture beyond Slambovia.

As he walked toward the border, he heard the steady beat of a drum. Turning westward, he followed the sound until he came to the source.

"I've been waiting for you," said the drummer, stopping for a moment. "What took you so long?"

"It's time for me to leave Slambovia," said Gandalf, not understanding the question. "And I heard the sound of your drum."

"Well, move along then," said the drummer. "I'll see you when you get there." And he resumed his beat.

Gandalf winked, turned to the south and continued on his way. As the drumbeats faded, they were replaced by the sound of running feet. Gandalf turned to see the figure of a boy running after him. "Brother!" called the boy. "Wait for me!"

"It's time for me to leave Slambovia," said Gandalf gently.

"I know," said the boy. " I'll see you when you get there."

Gandalf turned to the east and once again took up his journey. After many days, he reached the Slambovian border, but it was too foggy to see beyond his homeland. He paused, taking a deep breath, and then suddenly he heard the tinkling of bells behind him. He turned to see a tiny woman bathed in golden light. "Here," she said brightly. "You nearly forgot your hat." And with that she handed him a brand-new black derby. Gandalf opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, she said, "Go now. I'll see you when you get there."

The Music

If you ask Gandalf Murphy and the Slambovian Circus of Dreams how they came to be, that bit of folklore is akin to the best answer you'll get. Hailing from the appropriately mysterious Sleepy Hollow, N.Y., GMSCD is one of the most intriguing bands this area has ever seen. But they're not just a band. That's something like saying the Bible is just a book. (pull quote) There's a magical quality that transcends the music, that speaks to centuries-old wisdom in the band's unique, albeit quirky, way.

Their debut release, A Good Thief Tips His Hat (1999, Slambovian Records), is both lyrically rich and musically compelling. According to the band's frontman and chief songwriter, Joziah Longo, the title comes from the realization that imitation is not necessarily a bad thing. In a climate where a band's worth is all too often measured by who they sound like, it's not difficult for an artist to feel discouraged as he struggles to find his own voice.

Longo takes a different view. Intense eyes peer out from under the brim of his ever-present derby as he explains. "Those old blues cats, when they wrote what they wrote, it came from a very painful, real kind of place. All in all, the music came from poor, very suffering black people and from poor, very suffering white people...and the merge of those two things, and the kind of love in stealing from each other, [became] rock and roll." Longo's tone is a reverent and respectful one as he continues his philosophy. "They couldn't do anything with it to make it popular; it was so much from themselves that they didn't realize what it was or how good it was.

"Then when people overseas, like the Stones and The Beatles, locked into it and stole it and played it with this love and awe and reverence for it...I realized that that kind of stealing is what makes it happen. It's a very childlike expression of love to unashamedly imitate somebody." He chuckled. "And you end up doing it kinda badly...so it's original because you can't quite do what you're trying to do." And so it's with a loving tip o' the hat that Longo acknowledges, with the band's debut album, those that have gone before.

In the Circus of Dreams, however, there is no such thing as doing it badly. When the sound first hits your ear, Longo's gravelly voice hovers over spare instrumentation - a guitar here, mandolin there, even the low moan of a cello or the pleasing dissonance of an accordion. At times, the music heads for the hills or brushes elbows with a punkier sound or bounces here and there into the wonderful world of pop, but always there is an underlying beckoning for the attentive listener to search out just a little bit more. "I've realized," said Longo, "you've got to cop a certain posture, a certain vibration, to recreate a feeling you felt when you heard a song, that allows you to go to a place where you can find solace and healing and hope. So we're doing that."

In unabashedly imitative riffs and vocal textures, Longo and his compatriots have become Gandalf Murphy and the Slambovian Circus of Dreams. Much like The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper and the Lonely Hearts Club Band, this fab four has transcended reality and in this incarnation has gone on to become something bigger than themselves. With a spiritually-rooted philosophy, Longo's alter ego, Gandalf Murphy, creates not only a refreshingly original sound, but in doing so, draws back the veil that reveals the gateway to Slambovia.

Ah...Slambovia. Yes, it's a real place, but you won't find it on any map. For those who believe, it's as real as Valhalla or Nirvana or Heaven. "I stuck that name on that place within me," Longo explains about Slambovia, "...where Santa Claus still lives, where all that magic still lives. [It's a place] where you can still believe in people and they are transcendent and The Beatles are who you believe they are and not who you find out later. It's a place where the legends live."

For the last two years, Gandalf Murphy and the Slambovian Circus of Dreams have been making music. While Longo is the band's primary songwriter, he acknowledges the monumental contributions of his bandmates. Guitarist and band-christened "babe magnet" Sharkey McEwen lends his talent by way of acoustic, electric and slide guitars, bass, mandolin and vocals, while accordion and piccolo flourishes come compliments of Tink Lloyd in addition to her flawless delivery of enticing cello accompaniment and completion of the group's rich vocal texture. Drummer and percussionist Tony Zuzulo rounds out the foursome, or as McEwen puts it, provides the glue. But again, the mystique of the music goes way beyond well-honed chops and a penchant for good songwriting. Amid the kitsch and the mythology, Joziah and Tink, Tony and Sharkey have their feet rooted firmly in the sincere and genuine while their hearts and souls soar ever-reaching toward their beloved Slambovia.