On the surface, Leeds trio Quack Quack seem to exist in some animated part-prog, part-post-rock indie hinterland, but closer inspection reveals a tight-knit instrumental trio who, in absorbing and acknowledging everything from dub, jazz, funk, and electronic music, subvert all tidy enclosures of prog-this or post-that.
Keyboardist/drummer Richard Morris (also of Two Minute Noodles and Chops), bass player Stuart Bannister, and veteran drummer Neil Turpin (also of Bilge Pump) are the core unit of players/engineers whose music - typified by chirpy synth, droning rumbles of bass and a keen sense of groove -- explores dynamics and refined interplay with a ceaseless, sprightly invention. Their self-titled EP and 7", both produced by Richard Formby, are a winning seven-song introduction, throughout which the trio build upon a series of deceptively-simple ideas and offer intuitive responses, their individual contributions often subverting and off-setting (though never overwhelming) each other. And yet, their experiments are far more playful than studious, always respectful to the core elements of rhythm and sound while investing the whole instrumental (albeit guitar-less) "rock" shebang with a rare sense of fun.
While a great many instrumental bands still favor the 'quiet-loud' axis as their main dynamic, a hallmark of nearly every Quack Quack song is the 'striking moment', often comprising some subtle juxtaposition, dynamic change or breakaway where the band lock into something skewed or unexpected. It's there in the finale to "We Need The Eggs", where a bass drone subsisting over a spluttering jazzy drum breakdown suddenly lunges into a synchronized, dual-drum workout of slow-burn funk. It's there in the joyously melodic breakdown halfway through "Cut Me Some Slacks" or the sudden stop-out, long pause and crash-in of "Bravo 150", it's there in the startling multi-rhythmic shifts of "Mars", and it's there in the collision of Bannister's juddering bass riff with Morris's videogame arpeggios ("Conversations"). Such moments seemingly arrive as fleeting, subtle breakdowns in amidst the driving rhythms and plinking, hummable melodies, but as with Lemmy's all-out utterance in Motorhead's "Ace of Spades" ("That's the way I like it baby, I don't want to live forever") these moments often come to encapsulate the whole song. There are dozens of these moments spread across the seven songs, making it safe to assume that Quack Quack's instinctual dynamism makes far more sense in a live setting. And yet, as with the best electronica, hip-hop and dance music, they're songs that come alive on headphones and make your stereo sound good.
It's all too temptingly simplistic to compare Quack Quack to the likes of
Can, and not solely for the fact that all three members have contributed to Damo Suzuki's Network. Both bands build around uncompromising, driving rhythms, exact their subtle-yet-arresting dynamics with calm fluid restraint, are comprised of individually talented musicians who subsist collectively within a unique and uncategorizeable sound, and who each recognize the recording environment as an instrument in itself. But even so, Quack Quack sound nothing like Can whatsoever. Or anyone, in fact.
- Allan Harrison
