Praise for debut album Mask
An underground club is not the only place I imagine myself in listening to this album.
I see myself in space, weightless and fighting some kind of evil empire that wants to use
my race as cupcake batter. AntiQuark�s reality is more on a futuristic sense. Their new
wave sound compels the thought of seventh grade science fiction novels. They have no
compelling message to send out to their fans, but they have the ability to capture and
help nudge their creative minds. With song titles like Counting Hours,
Nuklear Suicide, and The Attaq I find it hard to see any reality,
but a colorful fantasy of the Sci-Fi Channel.
Musically founded on the euro-psychedelic mental gymnastics of Spacemen 3 and Komputer, it is mechanical computer music in the way that German silent films portrayed the downtrodden mechanized masses (the art-rock snob in action). Their pop sensibilities definitely heavy with Depeche Mode and the master of electronic pop Jimi Tenor in his G clef meanderings. Stylistically the Bubblegum Japanatronic of Pizzicato Five comes to mind, but in the much darker vein of the Juno Reactor and the "Bible of Dreams&qout; kind. And at moments there is a lapse into the world of Lush pop and Prolapse.
If you are wanting something different and more challenging than the regurgitated
diet of garage rock and RRRiiiottt, then try the Anti-Quark. This is an urban wedding,
not the petty PB deadening, but NY cool. You will not be disappointed.
San Diego's AntiQuark manage to convince the listener to re-think whatever
ideas they might have about contemporary, experimental dance music. Fronted by
deconstructionist diva Maren (also of the Peppermints, described elsewhere as the
�love child of Mark E. Smith and Nina Hagen�) with music by Ant (formerly of
Italian hardcore band Hex), AntiQuark come off as something of a female Cabaret
Voltaire. The songs move through droning, propulsive textures of electro programming,
accented with the occasional, mucky wall of filtered guitars
(Whitecane, Drama Control) or tumbling clunk of electronic
percussion pads (Nuklear Suicide). There's little, if any, reliance
on traditional pop structures. Ant seems more focused on conjuring cold, mechanical
moods to support Maren's fractured, science-fiction vignettes. One can imagine
the pieces being conceived of and built in a dark apartment filled with static tuned
televisions all going 24 hours a day. It recalls the best of Gary Numan's early
work with Tubeway Army, DAF, Skinny Puppy and Wire in their later more electronic
phase. It could be the soundtrack for a yet to be made movie that lands somewhere
between Blade Runner and Liquid Sky.