"Salad days" is a strange idiom, with two meanings that contradict the other: 1. a time where one is young and inexperienced, and 2. one's glory days, or heyday. For those born between 1965 and 1980, these two definitions intersected in the 1990s, in a syzygy that has not been seen since and may never be seen again. A common bond of angst and ennui bonds this generation, far too small to be statistically relevant and blessed with the ability to thrive under the threat of hot conflicts, cold wars, holes in the ozone, nuclear winter, star wars defense systems, iron curtains, teflon presidents, acid rain – the list goes on. Dodging impending disaster makes you nimble enough to dance on these grave predictions, and beat the odds to age into the eccentric but wise sages of the present day, resisting the blame for everything that's gone wrong in the past 58 years and forecasting uncanny warnings about whatever lies ahead. Portland, Oregon's Quasi emerged from the Garden of Earthly Delights that were the mid-90s and have been telling it like it is ever since. The duo's name is also a mix of opposites, meaning 1. seemingly; apparently but not really, and 2. being partly or almost. Multi-instrumentalist Sam Coomes and drummer Janet Weiss are in fact a couple of exes who transcended their own divorce to forge a musical partnership that has thrived for more than two decades. Their excellent new album, the cheekily titled Breaking the Balls of History, on Sub Pop tomorrow, more than lives up to its promise – or threat – bearing witness to the epic fails of civilization in trying times with sardonic and sly commentary.
"History" is both hilarious and foreboding: a song cycle for the anthropocene – that current era of geological time that we named after ourselves for setting the wake-up alarm on the doomsday clock. Here, outrage at our predicament is not expressed as one barbaric yawp, but channeled into multi-layered indictments. Even the loopy and rollicking "Queen of Ears" cannot turn a blind eye: "Folly and fever/conspire to bring you here/this country of such flux and fog." A bright and infectious melody takes a curious left turn in "Shitty is Pretty", a celebration and condemnation of surface values - "So second-quality, baby!" The existential "Last Long Laugh" – "At the edge of dreams/sound/time/death" – plummets straight out of Camus's The Fall. "Back in Your Tree" rallies against our inflated sense of importance: "Fuck the whole human race, man/now you want to be a space man/But you'll never have a place there/Because you can't afford the space fare." Perhaps our ancestors should have stayed arboreal. Vocals rise and fall at the pull of "Gravity", playing up the realization that even the weakest force of nature is stronger than our efforts to transcend it through wordplay or action. The lovely and spare "Inbetweeness" hovers dreamily between one thing and the other, "Neither here nor there/neither she or he nor they/neither you nor me/nor we." Resisting definition may be liberating, but as Weiss laments a mantra of "Somewhere/nowhere/something/nothing/neither/nor" she may also foreshadow the end of community. "Nowheresville" follows a funky beat through a maze of blurry distinctions and loses its way intentionally: "Here they come now/thoughts and prayers/thoughts and prayers won't get you there/but I guess they do make a pretty pair." Clever, biting lyrics are offset by sophisticated arrangements; the result is bigger and grander than you would expect a duo to make, yet a quorum of two is efficient enough to get straight to the point. Coomes and Weiss are so good at imagining the whole sound, including the finishing touches (background harmonies, sound effects, changes in tempo), while maintaining the urgency of the leading elements. If anything is over the top, it's completely intentional.
In a collection of appealing rhythms, "Rotten Wrock" is irresistible – just try to sit still as you go through the list of grievances: "Everybody knows/your mind's gone dark/and that's what makes you such an easy mark/And what exactly is a human being?/A little button on a touch screen? Everybody knows/it ain't no fun/to matter less than a machine gun." The music gradually devolves into the sound of water going down a drain. But no song condenses the last three years of the global pandemic as perfectly as the strangely appealing "Doomscrolling", capturing the illogical action of going through the same motions again and again but expecting different results. It charts the innocuous rise of teenage TikTok stars, to the frustration of kids in their virtual classes, and on to the bogus claims of anti vaxxers, climate deniers, and so-called patriots. Meanwhile, the rest of us go on "baking bread, doomscrolling going out of our head/just trying to get by/to stay alive/or at least not die." Quasi close their aphorisms for the end times with "The Losers Win" their version of a lullaby. As Weiss sweetly repeats "round and round" in the background, Coomes posits, "If half a loaf is better than none/how 'bout/half a half of a hot dog bun?/You're gonna lose anyway/again and again/until the day/the losers win."
Breaking the Balls of History resonates with fighting spirit. I've never had so much fun considering difficult truths and their troubling outcomes. Rallying cries don't launch from the point of victory. We may be down, but as long as there is room for thought and consideration – as well as passion and fervor – we are not completely out for the count. Quasi do not feel sorry for themselves, or for you. They commiserate with clear-eyed commentary, a generous dash of satire and infectious beats and clever hooks. The ebullient and fierce "Riots & Jokes" is the album's call to action. Weiss's fluency with the drums comes through in thrilling grooves and fills, as Coomes proclaims, "The world is yours ladies/what are you waiting for?" Seeing that proverbial glass half-empty makes less room for possible disappointment but holds the same capacity for impending joy.
Breaking the Balls of History is out on Sub Pop on February 10.
[Photo: John Clark]