'Laughter's An Asshole' & 'Lion Land'

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Editor's info:
QUINN WALKER's a sweetly sinister suburban swami, roaming highways and cul-de-sacs with his oneman neu rave nursery school band.
This fresh baby boy has recorded armfuls of hours long albums packed with meticulous chaos- Quinn's voice stretching from medieval falsetto to autocratic bass. His songs all dwell in the canyon between the childendangering occult and the classic top 40 from the 50's.
Quinn's a wholesome punk rocker. A modern werewolf. A chain-smoking toddler.
Voodoo-EROS is fortunate to release two albums (for the price of one damn album) at one damn time by the first biological male to enter our womb.

LAUGHTER'S AN ASSHOLE
With the safe sterility of Doogie Howser, Quinn clicks on the broken keyboard of a broken computer and brings you into a perilous playground packed with haunted horses murmuring merry-go-round music as they are led down the red carpet by (the original) Mickey Mouse Club chorus.
A single revolutionary guitar howls in wedded bliss with maracas, drums, tambourines, keyboards, and Masonic bells- all of which seem to play themselves as if inspired by screaming pygmy monkeys from a NOVA special they saw on PBS. All this just to conjure a hundred neon-static televisions singing at you all at once.
Laughter's An Asshole is encouraging, eccentric yet non-exclusive. It's like, Come and play with me let's get drunk on the beach, it's Tuesday! Quinn's meditations include the beauty in infinity: fear not the insane, don't block the voices, write down what they are saying, don't be afraid to look in the mirror when you're tripping.

LION LAND
LION LAND is basically an e-card sent to grandma back in Africa from a tribe of lions on their first visit to Disneyworld/Kissimmee St. Cloud, Florida. Damns and whirlpools of itchy frightening frequencies tenderly romance lyrics that orbit the worlds of ecstatic parochial school patriotism and junglebook moral codes. Industrial beats are stocked by hems of cinematic synthesizers suckering you, as a sunset might, into having an emotional moment.
Quinn's feral musicianship flows freely through every anthem and a warm, howling wave of screams and whispers and pounding drums will feel at times like fuzzy hugs, at other times feel like the result of letting a blind lion cub into the kitchen to invent a new recipe for lasagna. ("Lasagna" being used here as a euphemism for "pop music".)


Quinn Walker SUPPORTING COCOROSIE MAY 2008 NORTH AMERICA: