There are those who create because they want to. They write songs in their basements, smoke grass for inspiration, and search deep within for that one silver moment where the clouds part and the seagulls of creativity let out a resounding “Cah...... Cah.”
Then there are shamans like Quinn Walker, who simply have no choice. They expel bursts of genius from their bodies like pus exploding from a swollen boil, and they can’t help it; it’s just how they roll. The end result of Walker’s artistic wellspring, where double album Laughter’s an Asshole/Lion Land is concerned, is a confusing whole. I’m not sure I could name a single track that doesn’t instantly fascinate me. Many of the ideas, however, float in space aimlessly on the heels of a repeated refrain. It brings LaH/LL back to earth, albeit not for long; with a mind this expansive, the final frontier is never too far away.
The best thing you can do as a listener is sit back and enjoy as Walker fumbles gleefully with his toys. He’s going to make a lot of mistakes, and he’s going to learn from each and every one of them. Much like a janitor -- played by, say, pre-slur Michael Richards -- who keeps slipping on his fresh coat of wax, his F-ups are charming enough to keep your attention. In fact, they’re often funny as all fuck-out, or at the very least amusing, which brings up a question few have asked and even fewer have attempted to answer: Why is humorous indie rock so rare?
It’s possible, considering the magnificence of many of these tunes, that the Lion Land half of this release will kick off a transition from freak-folk to tongue-in-cheek folk, but until then, his work will be content to reside in the collections of the Chosen Few. To me, though it’s always nice to pay the rent, that’s the ideal scenario. I’d like to see Walker quietly develop over the course of a few more albums, not only because too-hyped artists often lose focus, but because a bloated White Album kiss-off could very well see this dude venturing into Captain Kangaroo territory. In other words, when you’re teetering on the edge of sanity, musically or otherwise, there’s nowhere to go without dropping out of view altogether. Personally, I’d like to be able to keep tabs on this bat-shit motherfucker with the gangly genre reach.
Tracks like Lion Land’s titular number are the reason. Take those drones that sound like muddled steel drums from AC’s “Slippi,” slide a sassy tom rhythm underneath it, add Walker’s already-patented chanting overtop, and what you get is another reason -- shit, 14 reasons -- to delay suicide for another day if you’re a listener with an extreme Jones for music that wears fluorescent polka-dotted PJs and slippers with flapping mouths for toes.
The joyous clatter of Lion Land is complemented well by its companion. Laughter’s an Asshole delivers its rockers, rift-ers, and ragas in a rootsier manner, with acoustic and string instruments replacing samplers and effects, and it seems to take itself a little more seriously, though you’d never know it if you skipped straight to “Bing Bang Boom,” which sounds like AC’s “Sweet Road” with more people singing along. By now you’ve probably noticed at least three references to the revered Animal Collective, and sure, you’ll find a lot of paw prints on this double-album. But the A-to-the-C cast a long shadow, and I could think of at least a dozen indie rock crimes more severe than being influenced by a band as preeminent as AC.
I can also think of at least a dozen things Walker could have done to render this cluster-fuck a bit tighter, but wading through the muck of such a fertile imagination is half the fun. You’ll want to experience Lion Land/Laughter’s an Asshole warts ‘n’ all, indulgence or no.
More about: Quinn Walker
