It’s time once again, for a number of reasons, for Mr. Quintron to appear on our fair pages four years to the day since he first featured. The biggest reason being his new album that came out two months ago on Goner Records, Too Thirsty 4 Love. Recorded on 2 track, it’s Quintron playing his custom Hammond/Rhodes combo organ with working headlights and utilizing his Drum Buddy creation, in his native New Orleans with his partner in crime and puppet shows, Miss Pussycat. The other reason: I needed something to help me get over some High School Musical-inspired, Disney Channel-ish, over-produced, over-scripted, pre-teen/teen flamboyance. Let’s just say Mr. Quintron came through for me.
Original Post: Jan 5, 2005:
This one is for Sean. Over the years, Sean and I have recommended bands to each other, with limited success. It all started back in 1993 when I went into the music store where Sean worked and told him I was bored with everything in my music collection. He handed me a Green Day CD which I traded in shortly thereafter, despite the rocking cover of the Who’s “My Generation.” Sean, a la Ronald Reagan, says he “cannot recall” handing me Green Day, but I assure you it happened. Another notable moment was in 2000, when he and I (and Sam) were in San Francisco at Ameoba. I recommended Jessamine to Sean; he bought a CD, and probably traded it in shortly thereafter. But it all finally came together, thanks to 3hive, when Sean posted Louis XIV. I just love “God Killed the Queen.” Success! I then hipped him to an early ’90s British band, Five Thirty, whose mod, power pop, blues, fuzzed-out wah stills gets my feet shakin’. Another success! So after our little fun with The Herms yesterday, I wanted to post Mr. Quintron for Sean. Mr. Quintron is a one-man band and organist extraordinaire, who has also invented the Drum Buddy (see below). It is to my great shame that this New Year’s Eve I missed Mr. Quintron playing “Grandfather Time” at the stroke of midnight at the Hi-Tone in Memphis, just 12 minutes from my house.
â€Saws are tremendous pranksters, and the ruse of causing Human Beings to believe that they are actually playing them is perhaps the most beloved and persistent joke in Saw-kind’s long history.†That’s funny because when I think of saws, I usually think “sharp teeth†and “missing fingers.†Of course, I’ve never been intimately involved with a saw and, though I’ve heard melodies made from them, I believe this is the first time I’ve heard saws sing with no accompaniment. Julian Koster — he of The Music Tapes and Neutral Milk Hotel — coaxes from the saws a sound that is eerily placid. Yes, it’s shrill and not for everyone, but it’s quite lovely if you’re in a right merry frame of mind…and if you’re tired of the same-old holiday songs sung by pompous humans. The bewilderment comes roughly every three minutes or so as you realize, holy crap, you’re listening to an entire album of holiday standards played on a piece of actual hardware. But, as Koster notes, Jesus was a carpenter. Who knows—after a particularly stressful day of sermonizing and house framing, maybe the Son of God sat down with his saw, bow and a goblet of wine and conjured a soothing rendition of “Silent Night†to remind him of that fateful evening away in the manger.
A Hundred Things Keep Me Going Back to Love Is All (in no particular order):
It’s the day after Thanksgiving and I’m still thinking about eating. Even the music I’m listening to reminds me of eating. Enter Boy Eats Drum Machine. It’s somewhat of a misnomer because Jon Ragel the multi-instrumentalist behind the moniker is all grown up and no, he didn’t eat a drum machine. Instead, he joined forces with a who’s who line-up of Portland indie rock drummers via a local drum break series called Bridgetown Breaks. Drum credits go to the drummers of Viva Voce, Talkdemonic, and Menomena among others. Ragel adds everything else and it’s a plateful: turntables, synths, tenor sax, guitar, organ, and yes, bravely, vocals. RJd2 didn’t even step behind the mic until his second album. From record one (Booomboxxx is his third) Ragel’s armed with one turntable, one microphone and all the goodies mentioned above. The result is a scratchy, earnest pastiche of jazz, breaks, spaghetti western soundtracks, and soulful crooning. A delicious mix of sounds for the whole family to feast on this holiday season!
On her myspace page Leila lists her influences as “life…noise…stuff.” I’d just add “beats” to that list for a quick summation of her sound. These tracks her label has generously offered for your downloading pleasure demonstrate Leila’s controlled cacophony as she gathers audio odds and ends, samples of this horn and that vocal clip, and masterfully stitches the sounds together into something you can dance to and something you can chill to, respectively. It’s pastiche-core in the vein of 
I know, I know… If you’re at all like me, you were probably pretty stoked about a band named after Thomas Jefferson’s intrepid explorers of the Louisiana Purchase, until you noticed the “e” up there that’s not really on the end of William Clark’s name. Then you realized the band’s name refers to the correspondence between C.S. Lewis and Arthur C. Clarke, not the Corps of Discovery. (Ok, the band website helped me out on that last part.) And then you download the ten minutes of “Before It Breaks You” and listen to it, and then it’s over before you realize it and the whole time you’ve been bathed in the musical equivalent of sunlight filtered through a grove of aromatic, soft-needled southern pines, or something similarly tranquil and pleasant. Lewis & Clarke call their sound “avant chamber folk,” but don’t let that turn you off. Give them more than a few minutes, and see if you like what you get back. I did.
I’m at least six months late in writing about this Detroit-based quintet, which gives me the luxury (or burden) of reacting not only to their music, but to others’ reactions to their music. One rarely hears Zoos of Berlin mentioned without a reference to Brian Eno and David Bowie collabos. And while there are certainly similarities, especially in Trevor Naud’s cool, spacey vocals, to focus on that is to miss the range that Zoos demonstrate live, or even in the three songs on their debut EP. “Below the Old House” serves up ebullient psychedelia then resolves in a trance-inducing ending. “Speak Well of Manderlay” romps and stomps about with an amped-up Baroque air. Then there’s “On Large Amusements,” my personal favorite, which fits a sprawling shoegazerly jam into an efficient two-and-a-half minutes—leaving you hungry for more. They’ve kindly permitted us to make all three tracks available for download so you can decide for yourself which Zoos of Berlin you like the most. Have fun.
I hope you don’t like this song very much. Or, better put: I’d advise you not to get too attached to this song, show up at a GROK show, and expect them to recreate this recording live. See, GROK’s got a thing or two to prove, and that thing or two has plenty to do with improvisation. They have no songs (at least not in that written, structured, rehearsed, performed sense of “song”), the songs they do have are performed only once so that every GROK show is a one-of-a-kind, highly unique experience, and audience members act as collaborators by suggesting a theme for a song, playing an instrument, or spinning the Wheel of Chordal Destiny. Their music sounds just as fun and whimsical, as is the case in “Pink Shirt.” Don’t worry if you find yourself listening to “Pink Shirt” more than once. To disagree with GROK is ultimately GROK. Don’t think about it, just listen…
These guys dig women…or their names, at least. Not just the “Saturday Night Live” star after which they’re named (twice, for good measure), but every track on their debut album is named after famous-to-obscure female celebrities (if you can identify all of them without the help of Google, my hat’s off to you). What connection they all have with each other is a mystery to me (“Batgirl, Miss America 1954, and a French physicist walk into a bar…”). And that mystery is only furthered by their nearly unintelligible lyrics and eclectic compositions (ranging from Eno-esque to bluegrass to indie spunk). What I do know is some strangely compelling songs emerge from the artsy din, “Bianca Montale” probably being the most conventional of the lot.
Stars Like Fleas is a Brooklyn-based collective of musicians you probably haven’t heard of from bands you probably have heard of (especially if you’re a regular to 3hive). At the nucleus are Montgomery Knott (vocals) and Shannon Fields (everything else). It was Shannon who emailed us to say that Stars Like Fleas will be releasing their third album after “a fair bit of wandering-in-the-desert time.” That’s gotta be some kind of crazy metaphor ’cause they recorded the album in Iceland—with Bjork’s producer, Valgeir Sigurðsson—and I don’t think there are any deserts there. Wherever it was that they wandered, they appear to have lost their penchant for unstructured, free jazz compositions and replaced it with a knack for lushly-orchestrated pop epics. The single, “I Was Only Dancing,” is a precise audio replication of a cloudburst falling on parched earth, sandwiched between slices of warm sunlight. Bathe/bask in it and you’ll see why it’s already one of my favorites of the year.