Qualm Preventing Explosion
It is always good to hear a story or read a tale of some boyhood experience, even in this era of overexposure to too much man-dominated information and the ever-increasing amount of pulp slop begot by some uber suburban truant. Malls, skateboarding, chicks: we know the drill, right? Still, without them coming, the other entries in the world would seem trite and dull, because that's all we would have -- just that, nothing more. It's no different in the hardcore music scene. Just how many outfits do we really need in the same ilk before we get the main idea? Who's to tell? In any case, Qualm is a fine understanding that young boy angst is all too important and that tract house malaise demands to be addressed and dealt with accordingly. So they learn to play instruments and start a band. Thus, giving us a tight retribution of the qualities that we still need in informative pop culture entertainment. Punk has always been a fine outlet for nervous energy trapped in a body going through rapid change preparing for the doom of unstoppable adulthood. Besides, slam dancing is fun and everybody should get to tell their side of the story, in any form they want! Not Bad Records MW
Quest for Quintana Roo
Lo-fi packaging immediately resonates a warm and fuzzy feeling, as Quest for Quintana Roo do their best quiet/loud attempt at screamo. Ah yes, screamo, it's emo but screamier. It's wearing your heart on your sleeve, and then ripping it off your sleeve and crushing it in your hand. "I'm sensitive but I'm fucking angry. I love the bunnies and the trees, but fuck the world needs a real kick in the ass!" To their credit, this band seems fairly intelligent lyrically, and the music is done well. Don't expect any musical breakthroughs or songs to latch onto here, the songs are mostly binge and purge material. It's so hard to tell if this stuff is contrived or from the gut, but Quest for Quintana Roo is still one zillion times better than all of those goofy tight jeans/greaser bands around today. New Disorder Records JS
The Quitters Are King!!!
At my orthodontist's office in 5th grade, there were pictures on the wall depicting kayakers braving rapids with motivational phrases next to them like "Winners never quit, Quitters never win." I'd sit in the chair and read that over and over again while my teeth sat in plaster. I think the phrase is true. Next to the kayak photos were photos of my orthodontist flying biplanes He was a pilot. He, one could say, never quit. John Denver was also a pilot, and was a crossover success as a folk act. Christ, that's incredible. He did die on his plane though. But he never quit, not once. Neither did my orthodontist who also died in a plane crash. Man, this world is bumming me out lately. At least we know who the leaders are: the Quitters, our self-proclaimed royalty. That'll make knowing who to bow to a lot easier. Garage Pop Records RG 1.18.2002
The Quitters Second Album
The Quitters' Second Album is too much of a bad thing. The white CD jacket is similar to those from the 1950s and early '60s, with large letters, lots of musician photos on the cover, the phrase "high fidelity," and various exclamations, and I made the mistake of raising my expectations to the level of its boasting cover. There are about 23 mostly short rock songs with undistinguished lyrics on the album, including a bonus song. The first song, "Monkee Suit" (sic), sounds a bit like the early The Specials circa 1980, a mocking song about conformity. "I Got You, Babe" is a mean-sounding love song (very unlike the Sonny and Cher song of the same name). "Let's Get Real," is punk crossed with country. "Believe," one of the better songs, is about belief and brain-washing, and the singer has high energy and great lung capacity as he sings lines such as "believe what they won't see ... believe what you don't know." "Midnight at 7-11" seems to say "The jungle is full of monkeys -- they're reproducing" and "People [are] trying to sell Pampers so they can buy a little refreshment, liquid courage," and while there is a form of wit here, I couldn't decide if this was social criticism or racism. "No Silly" has a quick intense beat, punky, with a shouting voice, and is about betrayal, and it's not bad; it is what some of the other songs might have been if better-arranged or performed. "How to Mummify A Cat" is spoken and ends disgustingly, with a cat as soup. Garage Pop Records DG