Tactfully incorporating simplistic rhythms and hallowed, organic instrumentation, Quixote’s self-titled debut album, being self-released on June 14, is an array of diverse styles that cohesively mold together creating an album craftily flowing between epic highs and mellowed dips.
Starting in Brookline, MA, Quixote’s first baby step began in early 2007, with members Joe Stulpin (vocals/guitar) and Evan Murphy (drums/percussion) jamming together and recording some tracks for a class. Genius ensued, along with the properly timed folding of previous musical endeavors, and Quixote was on the market. Shuffling through a number of different line-ups during the recording process, including now electric-guitarist Anthony Valera who played bass on the album, they eventually completed the record then found the perfect fit with the remaining members Justin Demers (bass guitar) and Greg Prendergast (keys/percussion). The band found a common tie that coalesced their individual music backgrounds and tastes, each separately drawing musical direction from diverse genres such as folk, hip-hop, classical, 60’s pop, and electronica, the quintet had a heavy hand in the production of the album, which invariably resulted in the fruition of an organized collision of sound. Joe has said “working on both sides of the soundboard really gives you a whole new perspective on sound and what makes a great sound; the kind of stuff that really hits you on the inside.”
The album opens with the staccatoed punch of “Annunaki” and immediately you are on a fierce, unstoppable ride. Flowing into the subtle twang of the violin opening in “Hubris,” the song picks up with the energy of Gogol Bordello-esque horns, big band style drums, and the careening down slope of an electric guitar solo. Slowing down the tempo, “Owls” is a stripped down, folk breath of fresh air that leads into the aggressive rumble of “God Damn” which juxtaposes a slower accordion line against thundering drumbeats. The album ends with “Don’t Hurt,” an effects-infused blues thunderstorm, layering a mystical fog of guitar and airy samples; Greg describes the song as displaying the “duality of a dysfunctional relationship both metaphorically speaking and literally sounding,” ending mid-sentence, ever so cunningly leaving you wanting more.