The Further Adventures of Lord Quas

(Stones Throw; 2005)

By Chet Betz | 11 May 2005

Riding in on a “More You Know” rainbow, Quasimoto aka Madlib aka DJ Rels aka Yesterday’s New Quintet aka Pope John Paul drops down on stage to begin the infomercial for that grass that’s only greener on the other side. He stands in his Bolivian apron and holds up his Ziplock bags.

“Herb. Man, that’s the secret to cooking, to music, to life and sex and dying, to beat-making and rhyming. You hear my word? Herb.”

Further Adventures of Lord Quas was meant to be heard with herb, know what I mean. I tried to work it out where each disc comes packaged with a roach, but the legal department wasn’t having none of it. So the audience will just have to supply their own listening aids, see what I’m saying. Marijuana’s the context for this music, dun. It’s the muse.”

“We’re going to mix some chardonnay into this casserole, haha, oh shit, what am I doing. Let’s make weed cookies, right.”

“My music’s so much better when I’m on this stuff. I pick all these fresh samples and blend them all up. My talents are amplified, right; I use the herb to tap into them. They call it a gateway drug. Well, it is a gateway, man, it’s a gateway to hearing with ears that really hear, know what I mean. You get some perspective, son, and some perspective is a hell of a lot more than what most artists have on their own. And here’s what your new perspective tells you: marijuana’s awesome.”

“I got skills falling outta my pockets, so with a little extra inspiration from the grass, I’ll be like Beethoven fucking with cats when they hear the hot synth work I put down on ‘Greenery’ or the tight loop and break rocking ‘Rappcats Pt. 3’ or the straight classic pop composition of ‘Raw Addict Pt. 2.’ You know, some are going to front on what I’m trying to do here with my creation of a sticky green opiate opus. Peoples are going to whine and bitch about how my drums generally sound weaker and lazier than anything I’ve done before, how my songs lack strong structure and hooks, about how my topical matter’s a bit one-tracked, about how the whole middle portion of my record from ‘Maingirl’ to ‘Shroom Music’ just sort of blurs together in a bleary-eyed haze. Fuck them, they ain’t blitzed enough to appreciate. You’d love the wino in ‘Bus Ride’ if you was high.”

“The Beatles weren’t shit without weed. And grandma couldn’t cook worth a shit without weed. In her system and in the recipe. She taught me how to make these here cookies.”

Grinning, audience member eats a cookie.

“It’s like the sample that I used at the end of ‘Greenery’ where the man says all that gospel, bible-quality truth about how everyone’s more creative stoned, you know. Amen, brother.

“Weed, weed, weed. I love weed. Weed in my lungs, yummy yum yum.”

Jonathan Richman strolls up with a guitar hanging from his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s my good bud Jonathan Richman,” Quas sniggers out a helium-high giggle, “Everyone say, ‘Hi, Mr. Richman.’”

Waving, the audience cheers, “Hi, Mr. Richman!”

Quas raises a finger to the side of his nose. “Now say, ‘HIGH Mr. Richman!’”

Laughing, the audience says, “HIGH, Mr. Richman!”

Jonathan addresses Quasimoto, “Cut the bullshit. I’m straight.”

Shouting the response, the Modern Lovers appear from backstage: “I’M STRAIGHT!”

Quasimoto disappears in a puff of verdant smoke.