QUASI

Mole City is not in the tradition or deviating from the tradition – it is the tradition. After 2 decades of
launching drums, guitars and pianos through the shifting interzones between harmony and chaos
(moonlighting along the way with the likes of Sleater-Kinney, Wild Flag, Elliott Smith, Built to Spill and a
long list of others), Quasi are a genre of their own - they write songs in the style of Quasi, and Mole City
is the Quasi Song Book: Parlor Sing-alongs for the Last Century.
Now in their 20th year, Quasi hand-delivers the double album/Liberation Cookbook/Encyclopedia of
Kicking Ass, Mole City, to those of us who still care about well-built, homemade objects crafted with
integrity, spirit, fire, and skill. In other words, those of us who don’t fit into a world where the empty
noise of crass capitalism, slick branding, and high profile hot pants have drowned out nearly all other
concerns. Mole City, their ninth album, is a set of anthems for the refuseniks, Molotov tossers, pacifist
soldiers and bug-eyed freaks, and Quasi is the band playing as the Titanic of what was once Independent
Music goes down.
Quasi would actually fit in just fine if every other band had such technical control and ability that they
could express each passing thought and literally converse through their instruments, could write
meaningful, memorable songs, could sing with heart and humanity, could maintain a musical
relationship for nearly a quarter century, could disregard the consumer-tested research and American
Idolatry, and was brave enough to strip back their production budget and advance to zero, ditch the
engineers, producers and side players, and head underground into their basement alone to record and
mix over an hour of new music from scratch.
And Mole City would sound like everything else out there if all the other records peeled off their absurd
costume jewelry and piped pleather jumpsuits, climbed into the sweat-lodge, confessed their sins of
avarice and pride, renounced all earthly possessions and ties, then kicked out the fucking jams. This is
the music at an agnostic afterlife juke joint where lysergic teardrops are cried into sweating mugs of
high octane hellfire, the bartender can see clear through to your every thought, fear and desire, the
upright player’s head is locked into a guillotine, and the guys next to you are whispering conspiratorially
about how to fix their time machine. Shakin’ blues, precision freak-outs, air-guitar-worthy riffs, heavy
round droplets of time, fuzz everything, wah wahs, ya yas, ooh ahs, grunts, shuffle struts and chiming
minor seventh chords - this is rock n roll.

Lea Cho, keyboards; Russ Waterhouse, guitar, electronics

Blues Control doesn't sound like any other band in history. A unique combination of keyboards, guitar and tape manipulation, the duo casts their palette wide. Invoking such different genres (sometimes simultaneously) as new age, krautrock and noise, Blues Control has found audiences on tours across the US, Canada, Europe and beyond. After releasing records on labels like Sub Pop, Holy Mountain and Woodsist, their most recent album Local Flavor was released by perennial Philadelphia favorite Siltbreeze Records. Now based in the Lehigh Valley, Blues Control have performed at the SXSW Music Festival, Museu do Chiado in Lisbon, the Film Society of Lincoln Center, and the Institute of Contemporary Art in Philadelphia.

"There is blues in the band, but none of a specifically formal sort – at its highest volume and most violent, this is the ghost of whatever was kicking around in everyone's heads in the late 60s when metal wasn't codified as such and there was no such thing as a fuzz pedal too overdriven." – Ned Raggett, All Music Guide

$15.00 - $18.00

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The Rhythm Room

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QUASI with BLUES CONTROL, NO VOLCANO

Monday, November 11 · Doors 7:30 PM / Show 8:00 PM at The Rhythm Room