The Automatik

The Howlin’ Wolf
November 10, 2001

I was so excited about this show that I bought a wig and wore it there. That’s gotta count for something. The Woggles always put on a good show, but I hadn’t seen them in years because they always play on a school night. I’d never seen Mr. Quintron, because he not only plays on school nights, he plays in terribly crack �n’ crime infested neighborhoods. But now I have seen the light.

Let me tell you about Mr. Quintron. He’s a tall, skinny fellow who wears old polyester suits with no irony whatsoever. He used to pluck his eyebrows and sport a skinny little moustache, not unlike El Vez, the Mexican Elvis. He’s been around for years (although he’s probably my age or younger) and has received much attention and acclaim for his organ playing and the Drum Buddy, this unique instrument that he invented (and I think may have even patented by now).

But let’s talk about The Woggles first. I love them. I always forget how good they really are. Total good time 60s garage rock. Manfred, the singer, is a wild man. He flails a tambourine, jumps up and down, hops on one foot and kneels on the stage passionately, testifying like he was in a Baptist Church. It’s awesome. Frequently, he will get down in the audience and dance, encouraging audience members to join in. This time, the entire band save for the drummer, went into the audience, and the bass player rode on the guitarist’s shoulders! Aw yeah.

There was this crazy boy in the front row. He was wearing geek glasses, jeans, a denim jacket and old skool style headphones. Were they intended as a substitute for earplugs? I do not know, but I took several pictures of him. Hee hee hee. My friend said he looks like he might wear tinfoil hats sometimes. He seemed to really like The Woggles, but he REALLY likes Mr. Quintron, as you’ll discover later on.

Mr. Quintron has a quilted organ cozy with a ruffle and satin lettering that spells out his name in blue cursive letters. It looks like a larger version of what your grandma uses to cover her toaster. His wife, the bizarre and fascinating Miss Pussycat, was wearing white fishnets and roller skates with pompoms and a blue and white satin all-in-one shorts outfit with rhinestones. She plays maracas that look like giant lightbulbs and sings backup vocals. I think she may have even made the organ cozy.

When Mr. Q took the stage, he was wearing a shiny polyester baby blue shirt and white Dickies. I didn’t even know they made white Dickies. He plays the organ like nobody’s business. He was so passionate I found myself falling madly in love with him. It’s like Jerry Lee Lewis was up there. He even took off his shoes to reveal light blue dress socks. When he plays he has more soul than any white guy I’ve seen in a while. Beck needs to take a page, nay a CHAPTER, from Mr. Quintron’s book. When he isn’t singing lyrics he is moaning, almost involuntarily. It’s amazing. It’s like the music is in him and it has to come out. He is what Jon Spencer wishes he was.

The Drum Buddy is a large wooden box upon which rest several knobs and a large, painted, spinning coffee can that says JUNGLE on it in bold white lettering. This coffee can is perforated with holes, like those metal tubes you find in old music boxes (the ones with twirling ballerinas). It’s surrounded by what looks like painted drain pipes and has a light bulb in the middle. The Drum Buddy sits next to Mr. Q and he plays the organ with one hand, spins the Drum Buddy with the other and makes guitar noises by murmuring into what looks like an old tape recorder microphone. The Drum Buddy sounds kind of like a theremin and kind of like a Moog. When Mr. Quintron plays, his organ trembles. Heh heh heh. I’m going to leave that bit in.

You should see the fans. They were gyrating as if Elvis himself were up on stage. The crazy tinfoil hat-wearing boy went wild and threw his shirt off and jumped around. Mr. Q is spellbinding, that’s for sure. Perhaps that’s why his home/studio/performance space is called The Spellcaster Lounge.

After he was done, Drumbuddy Baddass came out. Mr. Q, now wearing rollerskates of his own and accompanied by MC Trachiotemy, this immense bald guy wearing sunglasses and instead of gold chains, gold plastic Mardi Gras beads. You probably won’t realize how truly hysterical that is if you don’t live in New Orleans or have never been to Mardi Gras. There was another guy on stage, that I actually recognized as a friend of a friend. I didn’t catch his stage name, but I think his real name is Eric. The three of them proceeded to RAP. There were smoke machines. Mr. Q went into the audience and bumped and grinded with some of the more rabid fans. I couldn’t stop staring and smiling. It was totally visceral and fucking awesome. If they had break-danced, I probably would have begun weeping or rushed the stage. They kept saying it was their last show! God, I hope not. Cos I want more.