This album is a comprehensive trip through the sound spectrum containing every recordable noise possible - crammed into 66 minutes. Which translates into something like stoner-trip-hop-acid-rap-psycadelic-hop or Stoner-rap-trip-hop-shit and shit. It gravitates toward samples that seem almost as random as noise from commercials for self-help programs: "Ladies and gentlemen, our job is to keep you happy and keep you smiling." Quasimoto is the first person to introduce us to channel surfing as a legitimate source of trippy sound sampling.

Who is this Quasimoto character anyway? Maybe he got fired at the bell tower and had to take a government job as a random sound and noise compiler. "Hunch - there it is." Maybe he embezzled some of it, took it home and created the first "white collar crime-rap" Then again maybe he 'is' gangsta and he imbizzled it - doggy style? I really don't know, though rumor has it that it's Madlib's alter ego. This is strange too since Madlib and Quas rap together saying how tight and fresh the other person is ("Raw Deal"). Is that like third person complimenting? I get confused with complicated tenses so I'll let you figure it out.

Most of the 26 songs are fragmented as fuck with lotsa loop-over madness, dead stop out of nowhere change ups, and farting and crying noises. This emotional artsy fartsiness can be overwhelming and irritating at times, but most of the monotone/tone def raps schemes have a Requiem For a Dream wired-out grandma-trip feel. Then again listening to "Bartender Say" feels like background muzak playing and it's 1989 in a Chicago restaurant at nightfall (saxophone, flute and more random talking and rambling about nothing). Other notable samples that elevate the trippy level to eleven was something like a Freddy Krueger xylophone, and wind chimes juxtaposed to snake charmer clarinet ("Privacy.")

Sorry to keep using metaphors, but it seems the only way to correctly describe The Further Adventures of Lord Quas. The album as a whole is a daunting thing to digest from start to finish; be sure to plan this listen out ahead of time, because you will get lost and tranced out.
It's comparable to driving down the road and blacking out for an hour and not remembering a thing. Or like over hearing a conversation between two people in a dream or people you're hallucinating with during your monthly lizard-king spirit-quest in the desert. Some things on the album just don't make sense or I just haven't figured them out yet. Half of the time the main thought going through my head is "what the fuck just happened" and "that made no sense at all." Then just when you think it will start to make sense it jumps into hyperspaced out Terret-syndrome mode.

At one point in the CD listening experience as I was falling into another one of Quas' parallel universes, I swear I thought I was hearing shit. I tried to ignore it but it kept freaking me out. Finally I hit pause and took a look around my room and house just in case there might be a yellow "pig-dog" looking mother jammer ready to smash a brick in my head. I was good and listening continued, but I was seriously bugged-out for like five minutes. The rest of the trip was a space walk around my room looking for the munchies the chanting midgets from track nine, "Main Girl" snuck off with earlier. It sucked too because they were those Ruffles, you know the "loaded" baked potato ones - mmm yeah those ones. Oh sorry I spaced out there for a second. Anyway I still kept hearing stuff. I couldn't tell if something was fucking with me or if it was one of the 1,000 different noises contained in any one song. It also could've been the hidden encoded messages in the bass I 'spose.

Track number eight is the "Gangsta Chill Nigga" song that features the cut and paste rap master himself, the sultan lord mas MF Doom. All I know is this song's sample of some broad singing is so juicy it makes my pubes damp and my dingleberries hum.

I suppose all y'all want to know what Lord Quas raps like right? Picture Chip from Chip n' Dale all thugged-out "gettin' mad tail", "boast(ing) a fro," and "drop(ing) colors like Dennis Hopper." He takes "One small toke for man" from "tree trunk buds" and likes his girls "stacked not flat" when they "shake it like a salt shaker." He's never "softer than Simon and Garfunkel" but if you step he'll bust out "quick draw McGraw shit" because he rubs his "toilet paper on poison ivy leaf" since "Only the strong survive so eat your Wheaties." He also mentioned something about "White on white, black on black, green on green?"

In the end when the cosmic dust has settled, the record fades into nothing, like being stuck in an elevator forever and finally running out of oxygen. I'm sure glad Peanut Butter Wolf dragged Quasimoto out of his cave in Oxnard and exposed this unknown split personality rapper to the masses. My brain is tired and soar - I'm gonna pass out now and let it cool down - nighty.