Reconciling the two Quasis—the studio version that sounds like the Beatles on a bad-luck streak, and the snarling live beast that often comes on like Syd’s Floyd, all whimsical jamming drowning in shivering waves of microdot—has proven one of indie rock’s more challenging puzzles. On Hot Shit (Touch And Go), the band’s sixth full-length, Quasi has finally crafted a studio work that exudes the same whiff of spontaneity that has always been evident in performance. (To underscore this point, the record’s first pressing includes a live bonus disc.) For the initiated, this is a welcome event. The rough edges that were previously sanded smooth (through the miracle of double-tracked vocals or studio tricks ensuring that songs with a looser-knit structure were properly “refined”) have largely been left intact. Leader Sam Coomes gives his patented fuzzy organ a rest, firing up his considerable guitar and piano chops in service of songs that are at once grittier (the swampy “Master & Dog”), angrier (the psychedelia-tinged title track) and more overtly political (“White Devil’s Dream,” which bashes Bush in a way that few of his peers have attempted) than anything the band has done to date. But as the title indicates, this is an intentionally “out,” difficult record when compared to 1998’s Featuring “Birds” and 1999’s Field Studies; or slightly less accessible, with melodies that are more angular and less obvious. It’s the most honest record—the most like both Quasis—of any the duo has recorded.

MAGNET found Coomes and Janet Weiss (who also plays drums in Sleater-Kinney) in Portland, Ore., charged up about American politics and Sly And The Family Stone.

This record sounds way different to me than your previous ones—more expansive, more psychedelic, angrier. It’s a pissed-off record, and way more political than what you’ve done before.
Coomes: I wouldn’t say it’s exactly that cut-and-dry in any of those respects, but I think you’re right. The funny thing about that is that I was talking to someone a couple of days ago, and they were like “this sounds more like your first album.” And it was a person in Japan, they just released the very first record over there last year, and a lot of our other ones haven’t been picked up over there yet. So they only have a few albums to judge from, and one of ‘em is the very first, which isn’t that much like the other ones, except for the new one. So in a way, to me it’s not that radical a divergence from anything we’ve done in the past, but it’s different from the last couple of records.
Weiss: It’s funny to hear you say that this record sounds angrier, because it was so much more of a pleasure to make than the last one. My associations with it are so positive. But it’s not the artist’s job to define the art, that’s for sure. That’d be a ridiculous thing to do.

Well, maybe just to focus in on the political aspects of the new record: I’m more accustomed to you guys singing about things that could be personal but have a certain universality to them. Relationship ups and downs. There are some very particular targets called out here.
Coomes: Well, the times haven’t been this way, to the extent they are at the moment, for a long while.
Weiss: It’d seem weird to make a record that was “la di da.” [laughs]
Coomes: We’ve already made two or three “woe is me” records, you know.
Weiss: It’s definitely not time for the “everything’s great” record. The last couple of times Quasi went on tour, the first time was right after 9/11. Literally, we left on the 21st of September. So that really affected us, traveling around in this devastated psychological environment. But now, the second time we went, was the day we invaded Iraq.
Coomes: We were watching the bombs drop on the TV in the bar where we were playing.

That was definitely a “where were you?” kind of moment. I was at this Creole restaurant in New Orleans and the place was just frozen in one spot, rapt. Watching the tracers on CNN, saying nothing.
Weiss: You definitely don’t wanna be playing a rock show that night. [laughs]
Coomes: You can’t be up on stage playing your little songs. It’s like, “What’s the fuckin’ point,” you know?
Weiss: It’s had a direct impact on us. You have to reflect—well, you don’t have to, but it feels natural to reflect what’s going on. Those events are really personal. So it’s not like we’re just writing about politics in general. This is so specific and personal. A lot of people feel personally assaulted by this administration, so it’s hard not to reflect that or have that seep into the music in some way. It would seem strange not to have that in there.

A few years ago, when Bush was elected president, a lot of people I know predicted that this would be a great four years for rock music because the volume of angry people who also happen to make music would rise exponentially. And yet, for all his supposed political infallibility, Bush will be the only president since Herbert Hoover to experience an employment loss during his four years in office. There are actually fewer jobs in the U.S. today than there were when he took office.
Coomes: Bush is certainly beatable. I hope it’s not just blind optimism, but I feel like he’s not going to be re-elected. It’s exactly what you’re talking about—people are fucked. They don’t want to sit around for that.

If anything, it’s surprising that there aren’t more overtly political records being made right now. A number of people I’ve spoken to were surprised that Radiohead’s Hail To The Thief didn’t explore that avenue more fully.
Coomes: It’s the times, remarkable times, definitely different the last few years than I can ever remember. It’s very difficult to ignore that, even people who aren’t inclined to comment on politics. It’s just up in your face.

On the album’s very first song, you sing, “I just came back here to say goodbye.” What an interesting way to open an album. What or whom exactly are you saying goodbye to?
Coomes: People have asked about that, and I started telling people what I had in mind. We did some other interview and Janet said “a little mystery never hurt anybody.” [laughs] And that’s kinda true, it’s better not to talk about it and let people come to their own conclusions.
Weiss: Well, someone asked specifically if it meant that we were breaking up and this was our last album. Feeling like they read it literally, “coming back to say goodbye and that’s it.” And—you never know. [laughs]

I didn’t take it that way. Perhaps I was thinking of a non-band related relationship issue, or something even more vague than that.
Coomes: I had that song sitting around for a while. The first version was much more specific. But as time went by, I just didn’t have any feelings about the specific thing that the song was about, and I just kind of forgot about the song. Then I started rethinking it, and I made the song about more general things, like you’re talking about. Just going from one stage of life to another stage of life; or one level of being to another level of being. Or however you want to look at it. And I started seeing it like that, so I kinda threw away about half the song, made it less specific, and it felt better that way.
Weiss: In a non-specific way, it definitely catches your attention. All the old Shakespeare plays, they have to have something to draw you in right from the start. There’s a million records people listen to, and there’s something interesting about having one of the first words on the record being “goodbye.” To me, it’s another way that the record is, we’re trying to let go of all the things we’re supposed to do, and do whatever we want. The title, the artwork—it’s us flexing our muscles: “This is who we are, we’re not afraid to show everyone. We’re not afraid of not being played on the radio, because we won’t anyway.” Giving up those “trying to fit in” things about the major-label, corporate music scene. We’re just saying “fuck all that shit.” It’s all bullshit anyway. This is who we are, what matters. It’s kind of rebellious. [laughs]

Next Page >>