On my radio show, Quantic (aka Will Holland) is my go-to guy, so when I realized we had not given him the proper props on these pages. I did some music mining. Lo and behold, Holland himself provides a minor motherlode on his Quantic site. I use him as a staple on the show precisely because his catalog is extensive and diverse. Holland cut his teeth on an album of downtempo hip-hop and soul, recorded in his bedroom before he’d turned 21. He’s never looked back. Eight years and twelve full-lengths later, Quantic has proved himself a jack and master of all genres, at least the one’s he’s conquered thus far. Funk, soul, jazz, house, hip-hop, dub, electronic, and on his last few albums, reggae, salsa, tropical, and cumbia. His Combo Barbaro is made up of musicians from all over the globe, including Panamanian Singer Kabir on “Linda Morena.” I’ve not only learned to never underestimate Quantic, I’ve also learned to count on him for quality and an ever expanding sonic palette.
Today we’re happy to serve up a North West smorgasbord. However, unless you can get to the Portland area within the next 48 hours or so, this post won’t do you much good. There are the MP3s. Have at ’em. That’s the reason why you’re here ain’t it? This year marks the fifth time the good people of Portland have put their collective musicheads together for a weekend of free live music. The fantastic thing about the aforementioned people of Portland is that they’re doing this all out of the goodness of their hearts. Bands, businesses, and residents all volunteer their time to put on this grassroots festival which has spawned action packed compilations that help raise money and awareness for the festival. I wouldn’t mind it a bit if I were actually there this weekend enjoying the music, the weather, the wonderful city, and of course a healthy Powell’s browse would top things off nicely. If only… Included are songs from a few bands playing this weekend. And if your attendance is more than my pipe dream, here’s the link to the 
Sonically, my Memorial Day weekend has been marked by the sizzle of meat, screams and splashes from kids in the pool, and the hearty blaring of these two tracks from the nearest sound system and my own vocal chords. New York’s The Boy Koan has me geeked to start summer, or maybe I’m just geeked for summer to start. One thing’s for sure, I’m geeked on The Boy Koan—they’re the first band that I’ve ever asked to send me their lyrics. On second thought, that may simply say more about my thorough lack of thoroughness. I get the same tingly sensations from “Beasts from More Rustic Days” as I did when I first heard Grandaddy’s Under The Western Freeway. And “My Russian Doll” fires up pogo reflexes with its ’90s new wave gang vocals giving way to Mark E. Smith-like lackadaisical lilting on the bridge. It’s hard to believe this is the band’s first recorded efforts and that the usual purveyors of all things indie between here and there haven’t been giving this sleeper of a debut more blog space. I’d be surprised if the lack of coverage lasted long.
Photons will be releasing three EP’s this year, the first of which is Glory!, out tomorrow via Insound.com. “Where Were You Last Night” continues the raucous party, still with bassoon.
I haven’t decided if William Fitzsimmons is a bastard with an irritating beard, or the undiscovered perfect boyfriend I missed sitting in the back of my most boring college class. Perhaps he’s both, and maybe I dated his evil angelic twin. Joseph, the boy who knew he’d never fight with his true love; the artist who was so sure he’d leave his young family in the dark of night.
A few years ago I went to a political fundraiser where it was decided everyone would more likely hand over their pennies if all the begging was disguised as a hoe down. BBQ beef on rolls as big as your head, piles of potato salad and hay. Bales and bales of hay. Cowboy boots on hundreds of people with too much money who’d never even seen a cow in real life.
I recall an interview with Robin Guthrie of Cocteau Twins many years ago where he said that in his head the music he wrote sounded like death metal. I get the same sense with King Loses Crown. While this San Francisco duo exercises their love of hooks and synthesizers analog and digital, somewhere in their heads perhaps their music sounds more like death metal than the electronic power-rock of their self-titled debut EP.
Rae Spoon is, according to the publicists, “one of the world’s only transgender country singers.” He’s also a clever songwriter and a bit of a wit, and really not all that country, at least on his most recent release, superioryouareinferior. This disc is a trip through musical styles, from lo-fi indie pop to mod folk. Drop a buck and download “If You Lose Your Horses” if you’re looking for a classic country track, or check out the album’s opener for an example of Spoon’s songwriting smarts — I never knew I wanted to write a song for the Great Lakes until I heard his. Oh, and if you’re looking for a record full of what it means to be a transgender country singer, you might want to keep on looking, because this isn’t it.