Quantic

Quantic And His Combo Barbaro | Tradition In Transition | 3hive.com
Quantic And His Combo Barbaro | Tradition In Transition | 3hive.com

On my radio show, Quantic (aka Will Holland) is my go-to guy, so when I realized we had not given him the proper props on these pages. I did some music mining. Lo and behold, Holland himself provides a minor motherlode on his Quantic site. I use him as a staple on the show precisely because his catalog is extensive and diverse. Holland cut his teeth on an album of downtempo hip-hop and soul, recorded in his bedroom before he’d turned 21. He’s never looked back. Eight years and twelve full-lengths later, Quantic has proved himself a jack and master of all genres, at least the one’s he’s conquered thus far. Funk, soul, jazz, house, hip-hop, dub, electronic, and on his last few albums, reggae, salsa, tropical, and cumbia. His Combo Barbaro is made up of musicians from all over the globe, including Panamanian Singer Kabir on “Linda Morena.” I’ve not only learned to never underestimate Quantic, I’ve also learned to count on him for quality and an ever expanding sonic palette.

Various: Sleepingfish 8

Alisa and I read differently. She reads for plot. I for sentences. Sleepingfish publishes writers whose first concern is the sound of their sentences. Music without notes. Just tone and rhythm. Rhythm and mood. Consider this sentence from this issue:

She is unaware of the little bits of fabric he would sew into her palms: in private she squelches her poise and it is awful to hear silence exist in such a perfect American accent. [Julie Doxsee excerpt]

Sleepingfish not-so-regularly publishes such work from some my favorite writers: Peter Markus, Dawn Raffel, Diane Williams, and Terese Svoboda. Of note: the latest issue of Sleepingfish features an online supplement, a setlist of contributors past and present. We’ll feature a few here, but more tracks, along with ordering info for the issue, can be found at
Sleepingfish.

The Plimsouls

I don’t remember where I’d been camping. I was thirteen years old, a boy scout. One of my best friends at the time, Greg Angel, was having a birthday party and because of a scout trip I wouldn’t be there. There was a Plimsouls show at Perkins Palace in Pasadena, California. The party bus captained by Greg’s mother would be leaving before I returned. A blowout between me and my parents probably erupted at some point, but my father, ever the peacekeeper, ever the politician, negotiated an early pick-up from the campground and offered to drive me out to the show. I don’t remember many of the details, but I do recall: the pure stoke I felt towards my father as he drove our orange, ’73 Ford Pinto up some L.A. freeway, headlights illuminating the road ahead of us, the seemingly cavernous venue, the sweet stink of marijuana smoke clouding the room, the raw energy of live drums, guitar, and the bass setting the pace of my heart, Peter Case in the flesh, cocked pigeon-toed at the mic belting out the songs I’d sung to myself hundreds of times before, the epiphany of rock and roll. And now these resurrected feelings of youth, stirred to life by this live album from that same tour, ordain my middle-age. Now what? Do it all again, this time with my own kids in tow.

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Phantogram

Phantogram sets the bar high for new music in 2010. Obvious comparisons to Portishead aside, this young duo easily hold their own. It’s a fine distinction, but Phantogram is more space-hop than trip-hop and “When I’m Small” throws down a groove of heavily plucked bass that brightens up the bedroom vocals and scratchy record sample circling its way through the track. About a third of the way through everything drops out except soft synth pulses and echoing guitar to highlight Sarah Barthel’s voice. Diamonds spill from this woman’s mouth every time she opens it! My limited judgment is based on this and a couple other tracks, but I’m happily prejudiced and waiting to be fully abducted by Eyelid Movies on February 9th (vinyl via Ghostly). East Coast dates begin shortly before.

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Tycho

Tycho’s latest single evokes the tranquil mood that accompanied my recent sunset chase here in Huntington Beach. A few years back my father pointed out that late in the year, and from the vantage point of the H.B. pier, the sun settles into the isthmus of Catalina Island. My father is full of such miscellany. For some reason, this year I had a major itch to witness this minor phenomena. To my surprise, I found no information online, so beginning winter solstice I closely monitored the coast trying to determine the D-day. My efforts did not go unrewarded. The area experienced scattered showers in December, which smeared plenty of clouds across the skies, clouds that bled all the warm colors of the rainbow. Sensing that was the day, I crammed kids and cousins into the car on New Year’s Eve and sped off to catch some dying rays. “Coastal Brake” provides that same warm, shimmering epiphanic moment.

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