OF THEE (QUASI ) I SING
So — at the Black Cat in DC, 14th Street corridor, last Saturday night — me. NEVER HAVING heard QUASI live before in my life — I set out to pay my respects.
Okay…Look, (Shhhh.) I am a reclusive musician. I’m shy. I rarely go out for a busman’s holiday. Thanks to YouTube I’ve expanded my hours of solitude to include various and sundry musicians I want to hear live. QUASI was on the list. I scoped out my surroundings…
First impressions…. um… subdued…nothing against a venerable house of worship, but it just felt a bit… quiet. Here’s the church here’s the steeple, open the door, you know… the people… Um…Oh… I’m early? Still…so quiet. Services hadn’t started yet ….scattered communicants… folks at the merchandising table. Wait… is that the band?
Say, here comes…LET’S WRESTLE — the opening act — okay, yeah…good — but, sorry boys, this is about QUASI. But — credit where it is due. Nice set.
HEY! HERE THEY COME! IT’S QUASI… I HOPE … Shhhhhhh!… okay, okay… I’ll whisper… it’s quasi…onstage… like the fishes and the loaves people have multiplied and gathered to hear …
YEAH! A SONG OFF AMERICAN GONG! RE-PUL-SHUN!!! AND …AND — Shhhhhhh. Oh… excuse me… sorry… what?…too loud? Me? Oops. Is this not a rock and roll show?
Hey! Waddaya know. The vocals, including lyrics, — discernable! (Thank you, Brother Soundman.) YES! I HEAR IT! An attraction to the sea, has he, Mr. Coomes. To sinking ships? Animals also seem to be rather intriguing to this somewhat sardonic lyricist (birds, rhinos, dogs, and snakes and lizards). No…Ah? Um…Look. I hate to interpret lyrics. First of all, I always forget them… second of all — it’s more fun to listen to Oscar Wilde in the moment than to risk quoting him after the fact… So, you’ll just have to listen for yourself, people. Simplicity and complexity are subjective. See, your ears might hear instructions from the cosmos (God), whereas I might hear a story about a dog. You might hold certain ironies to be self-evident, and I might be lost below deck mixing my metaphors. Instead, allow me to wax abstractedly about frequency levels…
Thee drums — a simple vessel with limited toms but possessing a full-cargo-laden bottom end. Of course, having a powerful drummer to kick ass/bottom is essential, and Janet Weiss is a formidable percussionist.
Thee bass — Joanna Bolme —- a fat, warm, dirty, fuzzy 100 to 200 Hz preserver on which the kick ass drumbeat floats. (Her tone, people, not Ms. Bolme’s calmly centered-flush-stage-right physical presence.)
Thee guitar — YaaaOOOOooeeeiiiii — Sam Coomes hoisted the main sail and mike stand while shouldering a Gibson SG (a sentimental favorite of mine — The Who/Live At Leeds — Angus/AC/DC — Robby Krieger/Doors) that wrecked the 5 kHz frequency level enough to offer a bit of precipice oriented feedback adventure without piercing or rupturing the contents of my inner EEEar(s) [2 ruptured ear drums in 1 lifetime are enough, thank you] — HEY! Captain Coomes kicks a mean keyboard, too — literally — without losing a shoe! At least someone has some happenin’ footwork around here (um, besides me and my dancing cohort).
All in all, I — Goldilox — sez everything was just right! Brother Soundman did them a good turn, but he had to have somethin’ to work with. The Power Trinity of Thee Coomes, Thee Weiss and Thee Bolme has got THEE FAITH. The band was pretty damn tight. No leaks. The only issue for them seemed to be the lighting because kick ass drummer Ensign Weiss made a remark about needing more illumination reflecting off of Captain Coomes’ countenance to make sure she could interpret his facial mannerisms as a means of gauging his satisfaction with the crew’s musical performances — Awwwwwwww. They love their captain and wouldn’t think of mutiny! Maybe that comes from years of playing together where you learn to pick up on subliminal cues like —WALK THE PLANK YOU VIBE WRECKING WENCHES! (I can’t imagine.)
HALLELUJAH! (Okay, I’ll say it.) THEY — QUASI — ROCKED! That cliché that bears repeating. Yeah, I’m a major 7th riffer, jazz has been my fallback issue as of late, but I come from a background of double kix and Marshall stax. I know my noise. I am not picky when it comes to listening to talented people. I don’t believe in keeping the peas and carrots separate. That’s not my parable, Johnny Mustardseed. Music is music. And nothing against peas… but these guys go beyond both P’s and cruciferous vegetables. This is Q territory. They got FLAVAH! A b(L)and by any other name would not be QUASI.
If I have to make any kind of analogies, because invariably one must when describing a band’s collective sound, I’d have to say they sound like… QUASI. The Quasi Modal: A veritable ratatouille of R & R. Maybe St. Floyd appeared to a couple of arrangements, and The Blessed St. Neil sprinkled rust on some riffs; The Apostles John Paul George and Ringo made their mark, too; The Brothers Kink, and, Monk, even… or maybe I just like to think I hear TS Monk everywhere as I am prone to hearing the voices of angels. And — is it possible — a little Prophet Pete Towshend? A little Fripp “Not Quite The Lesser” from his self- EXPOSURE years? A little Divine Jeff Airplane in the psychedelia hangar? Am I having religious visions in my auditory canal? Musicians don’t exist or grow up in a musical vacuum (and, neither do their listeners, so, if I am projecting, Mea Culpa) so they better have good taste in inspiration —- and QUASI has good taste, and their
music tastes reeeeaally good — Like sticking your fingers in icing — IT’S FUN.
music tastes reeeeaally good — Like sticking your fingers in icing — IT’S FUN.
Do I recall Captain Coomes saying that Quasi hadn’t played the Black Cat in about 5 years? He casually mentioned that he detected a “change” in the milieu. (I didn’t feel so alone in my paranoia.) Yeah. Gentrification. That block used to be a dead zone, now it’s a traffic jam. Diminishes the counter culture posing a tad. Could he also have been referring to that reserved worshipful silence enveloping the crowd? C’mon, folks it’ only R& R! Move thy a_s!
What was with the worshipful silence? Polite, non-rhythmic clapping? This ain’t no jazz club, but, apparently there’s no foolin’ around, either. Look. Nobody’s askin’ folks to handle snakes at the revival — BUT — where’s the JOY in the room? WHAT?! THOU SHALT NOT MOVE THY LIMBS IMPULSIVELY? The audience was a bit reserved. Made me feel a tad [Tasmanian] Devili(sh)-possessed-by- the- Unclean. Sophistication doesn’t demand suffering and seriousness, folks. (Maybe they belonged to a sect that prohibits impaired self-control.) Anyway… just askin’. Forgive my boisterous exultations. It isn’t Tourette’s. I’m just speaking-in-tongues out of exuberance. If one is allowed to be a cerebral, introspective communicant, then it is equally acceptable for one to be a singular Fool of Questions (such as myself). After all, we all express our selves differently — Amen. [Some of us more differently than others.]
But — I HAD A GREAT TIME. My companions who had never heard QUASI before felt the same. Roll out that barrel of Bon Temps! Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler! Fo’ Sho’. A QUASI commandment.
So — why isn’t Quasi being pimped by my local Indie Rock station? Is it because they made their debut more than a decade ago? So what. Myriad other music makers have done the same. That was then — this is 2010. I guess I’ll never agree with Radio Gestapo. Like… bands have shelf lives? Unlike Twinkies, the reality of a niche in the marketing world is not made of calcium sulfate or gypsum or ascorbic acid… but SALT —- salt of the earth — fans spreading the gospel of your worth. SO — starting right here — I’m spreadin’ the GOOD word. WORD —-
I SAY UNTO THEE! GET OUUUUUUT! Go forth and purchase QUASI’s CD(s) including their new release American Gong on Kill Rock Stars (Domino in Europe) — and, go out to hear them. They have in various incarnations and factions performed and recorded with Sleater-Kinney, Heatmiser, Elliott Smith, Built To Spill, Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks, et al. and maybe that garners them some attention still, but it ain’t all he wrote… (”He” would be Mr. Sam Coomes, the main scribe in this outfit — he of intro/extro-spective cynically witty voice.) Look, I can’t go on about the difference between their material at such and such a date and now — I am living in the moment! I AM NEW to it. And surely there are more acolytes just like myself (or, maybe not…lucky world) out here lightin’ candles at their altar.
I am not ashamed of the gospel of QUASI. HELLSFIRE! I like intelligent, well-arranged, obviously carefully tended purposeful music that borders on quirky and busts out the embarrassing head banger in me (sigh). I’m just sayin’ that “I adore simple pleasures. They are [after all] the last refuge of the complex.”* Music that means something to the musicians performing it deserves some witnessing, PEOPLE!
If not remarkably (meta)physical, the congregation was appreciative. I got a high five from a stranger — and, it wasn’t to my face! I’ll take that. Holy, holy, holy! Le MeOW the pew, PePe! I gotta have tah worship me some St. Vitus in QUASI’s thrall! PICTURES of LILY?! DAMN, SISTAH JANET! Ya shoulda kicked the set over! After all, it was.
People: Cast out thy demons of complexity by seeking refuge in QUASI — on tour now. For those European practitioners of the orthodox faith, they will be headed to a country (church) near you.
Thanks, Oscar Wilde
Thanks Dylan for the set list — which included It’s Raining and Pictures of Lily as encores.