Quasi - Breaking The Balls Of History (LP) - Loser Edition Pink Vinyl

Quasi makes the kind of racket that reminds you rock can be both acerbic and warm, and Breaking the Balls of History hits that sweet spot with bristling clarity. The Portland duo of Sam Coomes and Janet Weiss hadn’t dropped a full-length since 2013’s Mole City. Then Sub Pop put this one out in February 2023 and it felt like a surge of electricity, a return that reads as survival and celebration at once. Weiss endured a serious car accident in 2019, stepped away from Sleater-Kinney the same year, then fought her way back behind the kit. You can hear that grit in these grooves. The tempos kick, the cymbals bloom, and Coomes’ keyboards bite with that unmistakable Quasi snarl.

If you’ve followed them since R&B Transmogrification or Featuring “Birds,” you know the basic ingredients. Coomes attacks a distorted organ like a guitar, toggling between Roxichord skree, crusty synths, and the occasional jagged six-string. Weiss makes the whole project feel airborne. Her style is all muscle and swing, a big pocket that still leaves room for stray sparks. The chemistry is the point. Lots of bands say they play as one. Quasi actually does, and on this record it sounds like the room is sweating with them.

The songs are compact and sharp, sometimes funny in a gallows way, sometimes tender when you least expect it. The lead single Queen of Ears sums up their approach. It’s catchy, crooked, and a little menacing, with Coomes letting a hook loop until it turns hypnotic while Weiss keeps adding small rhythmic feints. Elsewhere the writing stares down the past decade with eyes open. There’s frustration in the air, and not just the sort you file under politics. It’s personal as well, the strain of keeping your footing through injury, fires, isolation, and constant noise. Quasi answers with punch lines that land like little truths and choruses that stick.

The production feels right for them, raw but not thin. You can feel air moving around the drums and keys, the mixes front-and-center without sanding off the edges. That’s been a Quasi calling card since the late 90s, but here it reads like a renewed thesis. No fuss, no gloss, just two lifers making songs that don’t waste a second. It’s easy to imagine these takes coming together fast, maybe after a run of rehearsals where the best ideas rose on instinct. That immediacy suits the writing, which leans into momentum rather than ornate architecture.

Coomes has always been a songwriter who can slide from barbed to bittersweet in a verse, and that’s intact here. He also brings a lifer’s resume, the Heatmiser and Elliott Smith lineage that taught him how to carry a melody through the fuzz. Weiss brings her own legend from Sleater-Kinney and Wild Flag, but she never plays like a guest star. She’s a partner and foil, pushing and shaping each song from the kit. When she opens up on a fill, you remember why drummers become cult heroes.

Critical reception landed on the right side of enthusiastic, with outlets like Pitchfork and Stereogum praising the duo’s spark after a decade away. Fans greeted it with that mix of relief and excitement you only get from a band you’ve grown up around. It plays like a rallying cry without turning preachy, a reminder that aging in rock can mean sharper edges and better jokes.

On vinyl, this album really breathes. The kick punches, the organ growl blooms, and Weiss’s ride cuts through like a bell. If you’re crate-digging for Quasi vinyl, this is a slam-dunk pickup. Breaking the Balls of History vinyl has been a steady mover in shops I trust, the kind of record you see face-out near the counter because staff can’t stop recommending it. If you buy Quasi records online, keep an eye out for Sub Pop’s editions, and while you’re at it, explore earlier Quasi albums on vinyl to hear how this one recasts their old tricks with fresh urgency. Even a Melbourne record store new arrivals bin would feel a little brighter with a copy fronting the stack, which is saying something in a city that knows its rock lifers.

Quasi never chased trends. They worked a narrow, gnarly alley and turned it into a whole neighborhood. Ten albums in, they sound tough, funny, and alive. Breaking the Balls of History might not change your mind if you never liked their off-kilter churn, but if you’ve ever found a home in their crooked pop, it’s as satisfying as a long-lost friend ringing your doorbell. Spin it loud, let the grit settle into the room, and remember why stubbornness can be a virtue in rock.