Q///Q – ‘Crude Gourds’ and ‘Azores Azul’ [Review]

Oh yes, we’re into something different now. After that frontal assault by German Army, a sort of cavalry rolls in in the form of Q///Q. In this tribe of Excepter, the godhead, beats that walk are the currency, and emotion is gauche. It’s a new no wave: sometimes rotten, sometimes downtrodden, but always optimistic like James Ferraro without the east coast chip on the shoulder. And what makes this the cavalry besides the hats? Well there’s something to those hats – in the fact of wearing a hat – that denotes sophistication of form. Unlike German Army’s shock & awe/divide & conquer approach to vaporous music, Q///Q allows more time for themes to develop, thereby generating an accessible song structure upon which to convene and respond in equally formal terms.

a2553274506_2More refined than a militia, less refined than their travel mate, the seven percolating pieces of the ‘Crude Gourds’ C20 have the bounce and flare to match Sun Araw’s tropicalia, but rendered in bolder colors more sterile and asthmatic. Plots unfold like Aeon Flux. The romantics disillusioned, we’re reliving the angst of ex-new wavers The Creatures and Dalis Car as they wash up on various meridians, achy from sun, sex, and colonization, returning quickly home with horror stories of Burmese Days. Except now it’s all Burma (they knew it then too, but still). Reframed by the modern tape game, this cynicism is more potent in all globalized ways except one, the tape itself in a time where tapes too much, too much. You kind of have to have a heart to make these things. But you don’t have to act like you like it. Queasy, a vocalist mumbles through tissue on most the tracks, a Poesie Noire parallel to the Suicide of Mattress. Countless stairs ascended in absolute black. Recommended.

a2165736487_2The ‘Azores Azul’ C27 is a double A-side – so more like 14 minutes of music – with five tracks all 2-3 minutes. The sound is a subtle muddling of Psychic TV/Psychic TV-era Coil and the Psychic TV-era Coil-era sounds of the Southern Records post-rock scene – Pajo, Tortoise, Ui – the tones and timbres are all modular-cynical grocery aisle kitsch, but crashcading down a American West sulfur yellow freewayscape. Some vocals, some nifty sound effects. Like the finger weaves demonstrated on cover, these bold lines of programming cross elegantly into another, forming contrasting hot & sour transformations. The effect grows over time, as the full complexity of these synthetic thought exercises reveals itself to the listener. Edition of 60 copies. Also recommended, only slightly less. 

Singapore Sling cassette
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Skrot Up cassette
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