Pitchfork

Man, if I only had a car. Something red with cheap lingerie hanging from the rear-view... a subwoofer in the trunk named for some large, powerful animal wired to eight satellite speakers positioned for optimum stereo separation... the rush of the open road as the fall air howls through the T-top, crisp as an ATM twenty... and Quasi's Featuring Birds on the stereo. I'd play it loud as I motor to the pulse of this vast land, thinking to myself that if God were more than just "dog" spelled backwards, this music would rule the airwaves.

Back in the harsh fluorescent light that passes for late millennium reality, I recognize that I'm far too poor to own a car in this town and that commercial radio is only going to get worse. But I've still got Quasi. Like 764-HERO and the Spinanes, Portland's Quasi consists of a guy, a gal, and a suitcase full of melodic magic. Sleater-Kinney's Janet Weiss pounds the drums and sings back-up while Sam Coomes (formerly of Heatmiser) does just about everything else. Though he plays some guitar and bass, Coomes' primary instrument is the Rocksichord, an electronic keyboard thingamajig designed to sound like an electrified harpsichord. In Coomes' able hands, though, the Rocksichord becomes something else: a many-tempered musical beast that veers from bouncy, hurdy-gurdy chugs to droning, guitar-like distortion. The quirky instrumentation creates a nice contrast to his pleasant voice, which at times recalls a more vulnerable Matthew Sweet.

As for the songs, they're undeniably, unabashedly, unapologetically pop to the core, with nary a dud melody in the bunch. The songwriting reminds me of XTC, but stripped-down, with an abrasive edge and goofier lyrics. Textures range from the shrieking, artsy noise that opens "Sea Shanty" to "Please Do," a gentle folk song that would sound great sung by Leon Redbone. They're all short, tight, and supremely catchy. True to its title, the album does feature birds-- track 14 has 1 minute and 20 seconds of our feathered friends chirping away to beat the band. Why? Who cares! All I know is that it sounds great pumping through that perfect ride, the sharp red one that exists only in my mind.