Written by Nick Leitzke

First and foremost, for the band and for those of us who may have heard the wrong thing, I believe the gentleman in the crowd shouted, “We were better last time,” not, “You were better last time.” I will touch on this later, but I wanted to clarify that.

Quasi came to Washington, DC, on April 24 to play the Black Cat, and I am going to miss hearing at the frequency my ears are slowly ringing away twenty hours later. For my first show outside of Roanoke in nearly three years I remember all the things I love about making the three-plus hour trip and all the things I hate. The love far outweighs the hate, which is why I keep coming back and throwing away gas money like confetti. I’m making it rain for Chevron. As long as it’s all in the name of supporting great music I’ll sell out Mother Earth.

I don’t feel like counting how many times I’ve made this trip. To see Stars alone I’ve driven to Washington, DC, four times. When you live as far away from DC as I do you have to choose the shows you really want to see. This means letting some of them get away. This also means picking the really important bands – the shows that give hauling ass more credence. The journey turns into a religious pilgrimage, a trek you have to complete in order to sleep at night knowing the music gods are pleased.

When I saw Sleater-Kinney on their last tour nearly three years ago I had to make the trip twice in four days because the first attempt at the 9:30 Club got cancelled. I drove home to Roanoke the next day feeling like I’d lost the Super Bowl. That was my last chance to see a band like Sleater-Kinney, and a massive triple-digit heat wave had to go and strain the 9:30 Club’s transformer to the point of explosion.

However, when I came home and checked my voice mail and found the show had been rescheduled two days later, I started doing cartwheels on my front lawn. It meant driving to DC and back in one night and going to work the next morning at 10:00, but there was no way I’d let this one escape. Living so far away from ground zero puts a story behind every trip. You remember each one as though they are individually branded. It doesn’t make the experience more memorable or more extraordinary. You just return home feeling like you’ve broken out of your boon dock shell. It’s like leveling up in experience points.

But what about the show? Quasi did play a solid set last night, and that’s why I’m writing this. Let’s talk about that.

Seeing Quasi was like seeing old friends. When you’ve seen a band multiple times, each time they take the stage is like saying hello to the old crew. This was my first time seeing Quasi, though. Obviously I’ve seen Janet Weiss perform before with Sleater-Kinney, but I had never seen Quasi. What made this so personable was the accessibility of Janet and Sam Coomes. Maybe I’m not very observant, but I’ve never seen a headlining act manning the merchandise table as the venue doors open.

I made it to the Black Cat a little after 9:00, scanned the sparsely populated floor when I went upstairs, and was surprised to see both Janet and Sam standing behind the merchandise table. Who wouldn’t go say hello? I bought my shirt from Sam, and while I was fumbling with my bag and the thousand things I had in hand I set my wallet on the table. What does Sam do plop an identical wallet on the table next to mine. Here I am before the Quasi show and I’m comparing wallets with Sam Coomes. Of all the “what the hell” moments in my life this was probably the best. Only a hipster like me would be this giddy, although the “what the hell” factor didn’t sink in until well after the fact. At the time, mid-conversation with both Sam and Janet, it just felt natural.

I’ve been raised, trained, engrained on the sanctity of theatrical illusion. With every production I’ve ever been involved the rule is the actors/performers never set foot in the house after the doors open. The theory behind this is that it “breaks the illusion.” After last night, I can safely say that theatrical illusion is a crock. Every show I’ve ever been to here in Roanoke has been among friends. My friends are in the bands and we hang out before the show, during the show, after the show, inside the venue, outside the venue. Who cares? They’re here to play music. We’re here to hang out and watch them play music. We’re all real people living real life. There should be no illusion, just a great fucking time. I’m getting thumped off my ass tonight and I might as well tell the band I’m looking forward to it. A minor interaction – a brief conversation – was the best way to preface the night.

When Quasi finally played there were no reservations. They were here to thump me off my ass, and they succeeded. Maybe it was my proximity to the speaker but as I said before I am going to miss hearing at that frequency. But it’s a fair trade. Quasi do everything right. Sam Coomes is like Jerry Lee Lewis projected through a Picasso prism. His energy alone is enough, and it doesn’t hurt that he picks his SG with his fingers.

Janet Weiss is everything I want in a drummer. She’s fluid. She’s patient. She makes it all look so effortless, but she’s tearing the kit to shreds and hitting you with an artillery barrage. All the while she’s back there just having the time of her life. I think of three musicians who symbolize each aspect I look for in a drummer. Mitch Mitchell is the frenzy. Levon Helm is the concentration.

Charlie Watts is the sheer enjoyment of playing music. Janet Weiss is as if all three passed through a matter transporter and had a horrible accident, but the horror is to our benefit. Some amazing new being has been created by combining the superpowers of all three drummers. That new being is Janet Weiss, and there are too many great things to say about her. So I’ll stop with what I have. Add Joanna Bolme on bass laying the groundwork like John Entwhistle and you have Quasi, April 24, 2010 at the Black Cat. They were raw, they were confident, and they were absolutely in love with that stage. Quasi are not a reincarnation of the Who, but anyone who has watched the Happy Who Year DVD that came with the Kill Rock Stars preorder of American Gong knows that Quasi should have been at the Super Bowl this year playing Who covers. And they ended the show last night with “Pictures of Lily,” sounding like they were born to play it.

If anything at all was wrong with the night, I would call it the crowd. Seriously? Quasi is playing the Black Cat and it’s only seventy-five percent capacity? Nobody is dancing? What is wrong with you people? I don’t expect a circle pit but I want to bounce a little. Somewhere in the middle of the show someone shouted, “We were better last time,” a comment that the band misheard but which prompted an adequate and necessary response. Why would someone pay money to see a band they don’t like just to shout, “You were better last time?” But the comment was indeed, “We were better last time.” I did not see Quasi the last time they played Washington, DC, but being part of that crowd I have to agree. We could have been better. I wish we had been better. That crowd was like an embarrassingly tired sex partner when you’re ready to roll. Next time Quasi is in the area I’ll make the pilgrimage. I’ll be a one-man cheerleading squad, even if it means being “that guy.” They take the time to be so accessible, to play so energetically and play so well. The least I can do is show them ho much I love it. And I did love it. Quasi thumped me off my ass, and I want them to do it again.