Dear Friends,
I found out yesterday that my Uncle Tom died on Saturday afternoon. He had a brain tumor that was fast, aggressive, inoperable, and clearly a total fucking bastard. I’m angry that I will never get to see my uncle again. I’m angry that people I love are hurting right now because of stupid, motherfucking cancer.
It hurts.
This year has been full of death. I know all years are full of death and we are fragile beings that are here for a short period of time. I should focus on the fact that he was part of my life, even from a distance for fifty-four years. I should focus on the fact that he was a damn good uncle. He called me “Thomas” and I know in my heart that he cared.
I should focus on these things right now and in a minute or an hour or a day or a week, I will. Maybe it will take longer. Maybe it will never feel right to me.
The last time I saw him was a really great evening. I wrote about it here. It was when my cousin, Brian, got married. We had a good chat, exchanged smiles and laughter and seeing how happy and proud he was of Brian and his family was enough to keep my heart full. February of 2024 will always remind me of him and I can live with that.
I feel so sad for my dad. Here is a guy, a good guy, who has been a big part of my dad’s life for almost 70% of it. A guy he saw regularly and a guy he respected; despite whatever differences they may have had. Uncle Tom, at least from where I sit, seemed like he was a good dad, husband, and friend. He was, as I wrote, a good uncle, so why wouldn’t he have excelled in other parts of his life.
He was smart, too. Wickedly smart…sharp. Quick. Funny. Competitive.
We used to be part of a fantasy basketball league. I came close to winning one year and it was to him that I lost in the finals. Why did I lose? Well, I had dropped Leandro Barbosa and Uncle Tom picked him up for the last week. Barbosa hit a three at the end of a game and that sunk me.
He never let me forget it and that’s okay. I never will. I also know he would have been the first one to congratulate me if I would have won.
I love you, Uncle Tom. I wish I would have said that to you when I saw you last.
*****
There are a lot of other things on my mind, but I’m just going to go into the music now. I’ll get into the other stuff tomorrow.
*****
I think Shane is the one who turned me on to the Boston band, Quintaine Americana. He was always in on the heavy and weird bands. It’s good to have a friend like Shane if you love music. He has no problem sharing music and when he thinks you will like something, he shares quickly and generously.
He was right about Quintaine Americana. I liked them instantly.
For me, it’s the bass sound on their records, especially their first one, Needles. It’s such a great tone. I have no idea how they got it, nor do I care to try and emulate. I’m pretty happy with my own bass tone, but damn if I don’t like how the bass sounds on Needles.
On Needles, Quintaine Americana generally stay right in their lane and provide their slow, methodical songs that just grab you by the jugular and don’t let go. The first time they really do this is on the third track, “Retarded Whore.” In those days, kids, you could title a song “Retarded Whore” and not be considered a candidate for cancellation.
I mean, maybe the guys in Quintaine Americana are total assholes (I doubt it) and enjoy making fun of sex workers with disabilities, but I’m guessing they were just having fun and the song is not about anyone or meant to offend anyone. Obviously, I am defending them because I have my own guilt/trepidation about my own lyrics, but I never really set out to offend anyone who didn’t want to be offended.
My guess is that it was the same for Quintaine Americana.
I reached out to them once back in the day to see if they were ever going to make it out to Phoenix, but I don’t remember if I got a response or not. I think I did but it was brief, and the answer was “no.” I’ve never really dug in and tried to track them down.
There should be a podcast where the person running the show tracks down great, sorta-forgotten bands like Quintaine Americana and interviews them. It’s not me. I don’t have the bandwidth, but I would listen to a show about great, forgotten bands that never really made it out of their region.
Back to Needles…
After “Retarded Whore,” the record is pretty much gold. “The Rifleman” is a fantastic song. It has great lyrics (which was a strength of the band) and provokes some pretty great imagery of a cowboy going across the desert with the intention of killing. The interplay of the guitar and bass, the latter of which is fairly simple and plodding, is excellent.
You listen to a song like “The Rifleman” and hear how a three-piece band could use all the space without needing to fill up every nook and cranny. I love this and have strived for it a lot in my own music career. There is a lot to be said for songs having the proper space to breathe. In the case of “The Rifleman,” Quintaine Americana added several layers of texture to the song without making it too busy. Heavy and delightful.
“I’m Sorry” is next and this is the song that fully cemented my love for Quintaine Americana. It’s dark and there are very few lyrics, but the lyrics were a lot for my brain back in 1996 when my relationship with my own father was not the best.
“So, what do you want me to say? So, what do you want me to say? Happy Father’s Day? Happy Father’s Day? The only thing I hate more than myself are the people who actually like me. I go to touch them, and I stop myself. I go to touch them, and I stop myself. So, what do you want me to say? Lost, gone, learned. So, what do you want me to say? Happy Father’s Day? So, what do you want me to say?”
After that last question in the lyrics, the song just sort of blooms, expanding out into the universe like every son (or daughter) who has had questions about their relationship with a parent. There is no resolution in the song, but that’s the way life is for a lot of people. I’m glad that I am in a very different place now with my dad.
“Caught Fly” brings the mood of the record back up as “I’m Sorry” concludes. It sounds like kind of like Soundgarden and Jesus Lizard had a baby. That’s a cute baby, too.
As I listen to Needles for the first time in a while, I have a sneaking suspicion that someone in the band was a fan of Tool. I don’t mean that in a band way, either. I go back and forth on whether or not I like Tool or just don’t get them, but I hear a little Tool influence in songs like “Sioux City” and “Faces” that sounds pretty good to my ears.
This one is highly recommended on a day like today.
*****
See you tomorrow.
AI seems to think LB was number 8. I don't think he was...
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