The last time around Sam Coomes and Janet Weiss delivered what everyone thought was their scathing political record. Reading interviews with them, however, suggests the band are far more personal than that and therefore more exciting and insightful. Quasi's latest on Touch and Go is stripped down, grittier, and perhaps just a little brighter than anything else they've done. Quasi may have found some room in their music for hope.
Touch and Go
Finish the title however feels appropriate. Just don't count Quasi as being down for the count, the dark isn't what's going these days, at least not entirely. There's darkness everywhere, incompetence running amok, and a general sense that the dark really is starting to invade even the most private corners of our home. It's hitting us all personally as fans are sued for their fanaticism and corporations reach new heights in their campaign to alienate everyone who supports them through the purchasing of their products. Coomes and Weiss are aware of this, their interviews reveal a band that actively interprets the world around them and confronts it, deals with all the shit personally and reacts accordingly. If Coomes and Weiss feel the dark closing in on them and others, they also feel a little hopeful and a little hesitant, hesitant to just give in and let it all happen without a fight.
When the Going Gets Dark is a bleak record as it begins. "Alice the Goon" opens the record with a defiant blaze of crashing pianos and pounding drums, renouncing the sinking ship everyone is on, but finding that it isn't so easy being on the outside, either. The song ends with "I'm Popeye the Sailor man / I live in a garbage can." Everyone is with Coomes as the song ends, laying in the trash and trying to figure out how it all got so bad so easily. Immediately, however, the group launches into a statement that is equal parts Orwellian nightmare and rebel yell. "The Rhino" calls everything shady around it for what it is, "a rat" that everyone can smell. Even if the bars are closing in and even if there's more reason than ever to distrust the government, big industry, and the media, "The Rhino" cries that there's no way any of them can ever capture anyone's dreams or free will. When the going gets dark, then, the angry get going.
As for the sounds, Quasi has stripped down a bit. There are still some string flourishes and synthesizer madness to be found scattered on this album, but at the heart of it is Weiss' Bonham-esque pounding and Coomes flagrant, rude, scattered piano and pure rock guitars. There are some blues, some metal, and some out and out electric fuzz on tracks. Elsewhere are meditative instrumental works and drunken protests about liars, money, and fixations on the end, on the worst, on everything that's gone wrong. There might be a lingering stink in the air at the moment, but the worst of times can be the best as well. Quasi bare the bones of their instruments, wringing out of them pain and electricity, a shout of joy that sometimes escalates into utter chaos and sometimes descends into flowing calm. All together, the album is mountainous terrain, full of valleys, sudden drops, monumental peaks, and vertigo-inducing heights, and they've pulled it all off by going into the recording process naked and unafraid.
When the Going Gets Dark is a bold, edgy record and for that reason, it gets my vote for being one of Quasi's strongest releases. I couldn't ask for a better, heavier rock record at the moment. There's plenty to love, tracks that will satisfy a lot of people of a lot of different persuasions, and most importantly it feels like an honest collection of songs. "Death Culture Blues" has been stuck in my head for a few days, now, and listening to it is a joy every damned time. Coomes sings, "If you ain't got love you ain't got shit," and I believe him each time. He half shouts, half sings his lyrics, filling them with a kind of rapture, making him all the more powerful and believable. Each time "Alice the Goon" and "The Rhino" hit one after another, I'm taken back by the one-two punch they deliver, the power that the band forces out of their lungs and hands at every turn. Rock is alive and well, but only the honest can wield it, now. Quasi is one of the precious few bands left with the power of honesty and electricity on their side. I'm tired of singing the death culture blues, too. Luckily this record is nothing short of an exorcism.
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