#5 excerpted from “THE GET QUICK FILES: CHOOSE YOUR OWN CONJECTURE” as remembered by Mark Question
New Reverberations
1976 - 1979
Early 1976 brought renewal. Tonal alchemist Alex Magus and spectral vocalist Mae Voce were ushered into the fold, and The Get Quick entered an era creatively fertile and prolifically chaotic. Embracing sonic metamorphosis, the band drew on Eastern scales, exotic instrumentation, psychedelic folk-pop shimmer, motorik krautrock propulsion, and wiry punk tension. Their “studio” became a traveling laboratory: rehearsal rooms, hotel suites, and backstage corridors were routinely transformed into makeshift recording zones. Songs were often born mid-soundcheck, and albums stitched together from scattered fragments across continents.
From 1976 to 1979, the band unleashed an astonishing sequence of records, each more unclassifiable than the last: THE FRUIT OF OBLIVION and BLACKFROST (1976) opened new psychic pathways; TEUTONIC COSMONAUTS, CHILDREN OF THE RITZ, and PENDULUM (all 1977) blurred the lines between disco, dread, and divine revelation; while TREES WITHOUT SHADOWS, TREADS ON THE TIGER’S TAIL, and SCARABAEUS (1978) veered into mythic dreamscapes and haunted machinery.
Their 1979 triple salvo — THE MAGIC THEATER, EUROPA, and THE FUTURE HISTORY OF MUSIC — represented a grand culmination: dense, fractured, forward-thinking, and yet increasingly searching inward. By this time, the exhaustion was palpable. Emotional dissonance fractured the group from within. A frayed Mae Voce drifted out first, followed soon after by Magus, each departure leaving behind a spectral void.
What remained was DEVILWAVES (1980), a dark, tangled broadcast from a band staring into the abyss — equal parts prophecy and epitaph. It was their most opaque and least accessible work to date, and perhaps their most honest: an unfiltered artifact of inward collapse.
And then, as the curtain closed on one decade and a fresh one loomed, a fresh silence descended...
This momentary lapse was not the end, but rather a pregnant pause in transmission...
January 1975
The Tribunals and Tribulations of C. LeBree
Kent Allard, Song Squeeze
THERE WAS Mitchell Joy on one side and Coco LeBree on the other and somewhere between the two of them there existed a band called The Get Quick. Of course it was Mr Joy, in the role of bandleader from the very first, who more or less called the musical shots; while LeBree’s electrifying stage presence and indubitable musical skill were integral cogs in the machine. But it was the latter, through the aforementioned skills as well as his edgy off-stage behaviour, who ultimately came to be recognized as the real Face of TGQ.
Unfortunately, our hero’s prized place as TGQ’s Media Tabloid Boy was to cause a degree of friction within the group. A breakdown in relationships resulted during the band’s doomed South American tour and continued to deteriorate to such a point that certain factions refused to travel with the other. It was during these lonely days that LeBree toyed with the idea of taking his business elsewhere. That decision was hastened somewhat when Coco heard, through a roundabout route, Mr Joy’s claim that he would never appear on stage with him again.
Ah, yes, the jabs and backstabs that occur in this heady world of show business!
Nevertheless the loquacious LeBree was in fine fettle when I dropped in at his luxurious bachelor-closet in Ladybroke Grove.
“I’m holding up,” he remarked at my opening pleasantry, “the usual gossiping bowel problems, but you know...”
And indeed, beneath the ashen features, one could detect that vital spark of joie de vivre which has so epitomized the man who is currently one of London’s most ambitious womanizers and notorious personalities.
Viva LeBree!
* * * * * *
February 1975
Vanderwolf’s Meditative Silence: The Last Retreat
June Laird, The Occult Review
Erjk Vanderwolf, always the most enigmatic flickering persona in The Get Quick’s gallery of shadows, has recently returned from what could be called a “spiritual journey” to the remote mountains of Bhutan. Vanderwolf, who has frequently expressed an interest in mysticism and the occult, has spent the past month in an ancient monastery, undergoing what bandmate Mitchell Joy calls a “silence immersion.”
The notoriously cryptic guitarist was unavailable for comment, but sources close to the band claim that Vanderwolf has been practicing intense meditation and isolation in order to realign his creative energies. “He’s been gone for a while,” said an anonymous girlfriend. “I think he’s looking to discover something that he can’t find in the noise of the outside world.”
Some speculate that this retreat is a precursor to a major shift in Vanderwolf’s artistic direction, with rumors that he has been working on an experimental solo project involving spiritual chants and abstract sonic landscapes. “He’s always searching for new ways to communicate,” financial manager S. True Smith offered with a wink. “Don’t think he’s found a single one that works yet... Besides pop music, that is.”
Nevertheless, this could be the next step in the former Evol’s evolution.
* * * * * *
March 1975
Magus Muses Heavy Duty
Alex Magus, variously described as a disciple of Jim Morrison or Aleister Crowley, has now joined The Get Quick. Best known in media circles for his desperate degenerate poetry and “quasi-genius” contributions to the Daily Antiquarian et al. His hipster cred is undeniably impeccable, having resided at New York’s Chelsea Hotel, embarked on the obligatory Turkish sojourn and formed a close friendship with lensman Kenneth Anger.
“I don’t want to do a record unless it’s fantastic and will really do something profound to people, dig. I mean, I could make a quick grand other ways — I’m a born hustler. [...] Yea, true, my output hasn’t been extensive, but the majority of it has been of a quality... dig? I’m proud to be proud of. I don’t ever want to do anything lousy just for the sake of putting something out there or, what’s worse, for the filthy lucre. Got me?”
* * * * * *
April 1975
LeBree Cut Deep, Cut Loose
According to the band’s management, off-again on-again TGQ bassist Coco LeBree is temporarily out of the mix, heavily medicated and recuperating from an aborted operation to remove his botched appendix.
The Get Quick, in turn, have expanded to a five-piece with the addition of Alex Magus and 21-year-old Mae Voce, both of whom have been rehearsing with the band for several weeks with plans to record.
“Coco has NOT been fired,” TGQ’s Mitchell Joy is quoted as saying. “It’s just that he is exceptionally unhealthy right now. Erjk and I fully support him and wish him a speedy recovery. Ole Coco will be back in the fold as soon as we can reel him in. But in the meantime we must carry on. Plus, this current augmentation affords Erjk and I the opportunity to explore new dynamic instrumentation and further the experimental dimension of our sound.”
Despite the Joy-boy’s tidy summation, LeBree is already scheduled to play his first ever solo concerts on a tour of Germany, Sweden, Belgium and France, between late February and the end of April. Auditions are underway to select a backing band, but TGQ’s management are stressing that this is purely a temporary hiatus and there is no question of Coco actually severing ties with The Get Quick for good.
* * * * * *
July 1975
Prof. Cromicon Crushes TGQ “Legend”
Victor Novel, Une Semaine de Bonté
Enraged by a reported last minute tiff in their contract negotiations, Professor Cromicon has spectacularly destroyed all existing copies of The Get Quick’s new album Legend Tripping. First he shot a cease and desist order to the manufacturing plant, then had all advance copies of the record rounded up from the Comicon Complex. He then alerted the media that, due to the band’s stonewalling, the record would not be released and that every last existing copy would be unceremoniously dumped in the middle of Piccadilly Circus. Crowds of TGQ fans soon flanked the street, cheering when the industrial dump truck rolled up. The cheers were choked off however, when they noticed the massive steamroller behind it, piloted by Professor Cromicon himself.
Police worked to hold back the throng, which quickly turned hostile. As soon as the dump truck shook off its load the Professor was pressing his machine upon it, laughing maniacally as the large roller pulverized the plastic and paper that meant so much to so many.
The crowd broke free and it was all the police could do to prevent a public execution. The professor was issued several fines, but was able to extricate himself from the scene without serious injury.
It has been speculated that perhaps a copy or two had survived the melee and radio DJs have been pressing the public, offering exorbitant prizes in exchange for a chance to play one of the remaining copies on air.
* * * * * *
September 1975
A New TGQ Debut
John Nepomuk, COBRA
The Get Quick have now completed the re-shaping of their personnel, and have formulated their plans for the next four months.
Leader Mitchell Joy, in partnership with group adviser S. True Smith, has formed a company called Split Level Recording, which will now be responsible for the production of all TGQ records, ending their recording link with producer Fabian Kavorkian.
It is also likely that the group will no longer appear on their labels (Cromicon Industries, Vogue Mogul Productions) since it is understood that major European and American recording companies are currently negotiating for the rights to distribute Split Level’s output worldwide.
The new line-up teams Mitchell Joy (drums) and Erjk Vanderwolf (guitar, vocals) with Alex Magus (bass guitar, organ) and Mae Voce (guitar, keyboards). A six-week European tour of one-night-stands and university dates will begin on November 9.
The group is currently in Scandinavia, fulfilling bookings made on behalf of the previous line-up earlier in the year.
* * * * * *
September 1975
TGQ: Reforged, Rewired, Reborn
Serena Kay, Sound Mirror
Like a serpent shedding its skin beneath the glittering moons of excess, The Get Quick have emerged from their recent calamities not crippled — but crystallized.
After months of dramatic headlines, vanishing albums, solo stirrings, and public meltdowns, Mitchell Joy and Erjk Vanderwolf have reassembled the legendary machine with new gears, new blood, and a new vision. This is not a retreat — it’s an advance into uncharted sound.
Now operating under the banner of Split Level Recording, a newly formed imprint co-helmed by Joy and long-time adviser S. True Smith, the band has severed ties with eccentric soundman Fabian Kavorkian and their former label cohorts at Cromicon Industries and Vogue Mogul Productions. In their place: full creative control, new international distribution negotiations already underway, and the promise of autonomy without compromise.
The fresh configuration sees Joy (pulse, thunder) and Vanderwolf (strings, strums, feedback) joined by two dynamic forces: underground mystic and poet-turned-bassist Alex Magus, and 21-year-old multi-instrumentalist Mae Voce, whose reputation in avant-garde circles has grown in whispers and legend.
Though Coco LeBree remains on indefinite medical hiatus — amid rumors of a solo tour across the continent — Joy is quick to insist the door remains open. “Coco’s a brother,” he says. “But we can’t keep the car parked waiting for every passenger. We’ve got maps to burn.”
The band is currently fulfilling a string of existing Scandinavian dates before launching a concentrated six-week run of one-night-stands and university halls across Europe beginning November 9. “It’ll be low ceilings, no frills, and plenty of power,” says Vanderwolf. “We want to get back to sweat and volume and real connection — make the walls breathe and ears bleed.”
And what of the tragically obliterated Legend Tripping LP? Whispers abound that some fragments survived the infamous Piccadilly pulverization, and rumor has it radio stations are offering absurd prizes for even a 30-second snippet. When asked, Joy simply laughs: “We’ve got something better coming.”
So: death, rebirth, betrayal, industrial sabotage, and now — momentum. For a band that once called itself “a guided hallucination,” The Get Quick may be finally turning the trip into a destination.
Hold onto your receptors.
* * * * * *
September 1975
GET QUICK OR DIE TRYIN’
NEW LINEUP, NEW LABEL, SAME OL’ CHAOS
“Electric” Lena du Frayne, Oh She Did
Well, well, well — look who’s still kicking in 1975. After spending most of last year eating their own tails, The Get Quick have reassembled the wreckage into something vaguely resembling a rock band. Whether it’s genius, hubris, or a slow-motion nervous breakdown, we’re here for it.
Gone is their long-suffering producer Fabian Kavorkian (rumor has it he now lives in a bell tower and only records birdsong). Gone too are their old label handlers at Cromicon Industries and Vogue Mogul Productions—names that sounded more like front companies for interstellar cults anyway.
In their place: Split Level Recording, a brand-new DIY setup helmed by drummer/backbone Mitchell Joy and that inscrutable banana republic puppeteer of a “financial adviser,” S. True Smith. Joy says it’s about freedom, autonomy, and controlling their own sound. Translation: no one else would work with them.
The lineup’s had a shake-up too. Erjk Vanderwolf remains the voice and guitar hero of your weirder sticky dreams, and Joy still smashes skins like they owe him money. But now they’ve added Alex Magus — bassist, organist, part-time ritual magician — and Mae Voce, a spooky little blonde genius from nowhere in particular who can apparently play anything with strings, keys, or bad vibes.
Coco LeBree? Still MIA. Some say rehab, some say recording a solo album in a volcano. The official line is “medical hiatus.” The unofficial line is, don’t ask unless you want to get a drumstick thrown at your head.
The band’s currently grinding through a series of Scandinavian bookings lined up for the previous TGQ lineup—awkward? Definitely. But come November, they’ll hit the continent proper with a six-week sprint through European uni halls and sweatbox venues, playing new material, old favorites, and possibly invoking minor deities mid-set.
Oh, and that fabled Legend Tripping album? Vaporized. Literally. Joy claims he’s washed his hands and considers it “destroyed for the greater good.” (The greater good of what, he didn’t specify.)
Bottom line: The Get Quick aren’t dead. They’re just shedding skin again.
Which probably means there’s another monster underneath.
Buckle up, buttercups. The circus is back on the road. Something wicked this was comes...
* * * * * *
February 1976
Rancor-Filed
Mustapha Trocchi, Green Hell Digest
Yes, the latest chapter in the ongoing metalegal opera surrounding Alex Magus and the post-Megalosaurus fallout has finally reached a denouement — if such things can ever truly end in the multiverse of modern rock.
Raconteur Productions, helmed by the ever-litigious Allen Rancor, claimed that Magus was still under contract from his Megalosaurus days. An ex-parte injunction against Split Level Recordings, citing an archaic clause from Magus’s old contract: “All sonic emanations generated by subject shall be the property of the firm, in perpetuity, in all known and unknown dimensions.” Thus putting the kibosh on the whole shebang.
The suit, described in trade circles as a “hyper-temporal cease and desist,” had effectively suspended Magus in a kind of limbo, unable to legally commit sound to tape under his own name. Fans began referring to him in underground zines as “The Mute Bassist,” and rumors swirled of bootlegs recorded under aliases in Turkish bathhouses and North African listening tents.
A statement announced: “As a result of a substantial settlement from Split Level Recordings, the courts have lifted the injunction which prevailed on all sound recordings by A. Magus.
Now, following what insiders are calling a “massive metaphysical settlement,” the clouds have parted. A statement beamed out through Split Level's private frequency reads:
“As a result of a substantial settlement from Split Level Recordings, the courts have lifted the injunction which prevailed on all sound recordings by A. Magus.”
With the legal hex lifted, Magus is once more free to transmit. Rancor, for his part, has retreated into his recording citadel, vowing revenge in some form or another — possibly in the form of a conceptual rival act constructed entirely from astral projections and session drummers.
* * * * * *
March 1976
TGQ Reemerge, Remodeled
David Agnew, Headphones
This year The Get Quick seemed to have received more instant approval from rock critics than any other band. To be honest, Messrs. Joy and Co really didn’t have to endure endless months of gigging before finally breaking through. Dues have been paid ages ago and TGQ’s brand is enough to ensure that the fickle rock press will give whatever attached to it at the very least a cursory glance.
And the critics, jaded by the post-Cream epidemic of heavy three-chord wonder bands all of them lacking any kind of stage presentation, seem to be floored by the new TGQ incarnation. Not only do TGQ Mk3 (as some are dubbing them) have some new members, but they are actually doing something new musically.
A Splash of colored silk, feathers and sparkling glitter announces TGQ’s arrival at the Nordome in Oslo (last Sunday) as Mae Voce struts onstage like a magnificent rare bird with a crest of blond hair. Sporting a slicked-back Germanic look and encased in sleek black satin, Alex Magus is poised at centre stage. On stage right Erjk Vanderwolf appears in skin-tight silver pants and a futuristic-looking black sweater, and looming over his shoulder sits Mitchell Joy, in a riot of bobbled satin in shades of green.
And the music! You may adore TGQ of yore — listen to their old LPs and vivid descriptions just tumble from the lips: melodic mod-rock, riff-heavy rave-ups, haunting heart-breaking ballads, avant-garde psych-pop... And now just add progressive prowess, ambient electronics and bombastic glam to the equation and you’ll have some idea of the spicy stew TGQ are currently cooking with.
And the live show becomes something more than just the sum of these crazy adjectives, just as the songs themselves are reworked and remodeled and all the new influences and revivalist instincts are blended and molded into an exciting, intoxicating and entirely new molotov cocktail.
TGQ attack all the senses — the taste of TGQ, the candy-colored lights, the riotous extravaganza. Every sound has its own spectacle as important as the music itself. Vanderwolf’s six-string pyrotechnics have never been more jaw-dropping. Then comes the sensual sway and evocative croon of Mae Voce — who owns the stage and wins over the audience in seconds. The anchor is the seriously stoic Magus, who seems to command awe and reverence from his subjects (I suspect a large group of his personal fan-base are philosophy students). While on the drum riser “The Thunder Conductor,” Mr Joy, weaves his tribalistic black magic, limbs flapping madly like some humanoid plant-monster from a ’50s horror film.
After storming the stage with a blistering extended version of “Pop” the band then delved into three or four exciting new numbers from the upcoming TGQ LP Fruits Of Oblivion.
After a machine gun burst of “Strut!” Joy calls out to the audience. The theatre is too large, too cold and he wants to commune and get down as one with the fans. Instantly the kids tumble out of seats and surge to the lip of the stage in a sea of flailing glittery flesh. Then Erjk serenades us with some words to listen to in “What I Really Want To Know,” which segues brilliantly into “Trick Time” which seems newly imbued with a strange power and majesty all its own.
TGQ aim to please with short bursts of fuzz bass and synthesizer, calm us into submission with romantic melody and then rally us into a frenzy as the show climaxes. By the close of “Kiss Kiss Kiss” we are a horde of stomping addicts screaming for more — which the band happily provides with a double-shot of “Good At Losing” and “Drop The Bomb.”
The figures disappear, the sound dies and the house lights go up. It feels like I’ve just experienced a two-hour free-fall through some phantasmagoric Technicolor Dreamscape, only to plunge into a cold gray doldrums again — wondering if what i’d just experienced had really actually happened at all.
Either way, it was a great ride while it lasted.
* * * * * *
March 1976
The Get Quick Arrive
by Jeff Alligator, Head Lines
You can feel it in the floorboards of the Nordome, you can taste it in the thick electric musk hanging over the crowd — The Get Quick are back. Not resurrected, not reformed. Reconfigured. Mk3, yes. But not so much an iteration as a mutation.
The new line-up plays like four fragments of some exploded cosmic cabaret act, each plucked from a different strand of the multiverse and jammed together in a shimmering machine of noise and spectacle.
Joy, high priest of pulse and rhythm, sits at the kit like a mad horticulturist coaxing polyrhythms out of carnivorous plants. His kit, we hear, has been augmented with custom-built oscillators salvaged from an East German observatory. Erjk Vanderwolf’s guitar howls like a sexed-up banshee channeled through an arc welder — his solo during “Strut!” felt like the soundtrack to a collapsing star.
Mae Voce is revelation incarnate. Onstage she’s a demiurge of desire, reeling between siren and seer, her voice layered like lacquer over the groove, glitter shimmering from every micro-movement. Her new track “Amoral Kit” played like a séance broadcast live from the pop astral.
And then there’s Alex Magus, the cool axis. Resurrected from contractual oblivion, he stalks the stage like a philosophical predator. Eyes black as magnets, notes tumbling from his fingers like runes. Rumors swirl that he’s taken up remote-viewing and chaos magick in recent months — if true, the results are on full display.
The setlist, if you can call it that, bent and swerved like some dream logic roadshow. “Pop” was stretched into an operetta of amphetamine abandon. “Building a New Smile” radiated an eerie, Messianic energy. New numbers from Fruits of Oblivion flickered like pirate broadcasts from the future.
They ended with “Drop The Bomb,” leaving us stripped, raw, ecstatic. And when the house lights came up, I looked around at the dazed, glitter-smeared faces, all of us asking the same question: Did that happen? Were we abducted? Initiated? Upgraded?
The Get Quick have returned. But this time, they're not just playing music. They're transmitting something bigger. And we are lucky — or damned — to be the receivers.
* * * * * *
May 8, 1976
Review: Fruits of Oblivion – The Get Quick
Kurt “Curfew” Reynolds, Stereo Type UK
This isn’t just the return of The Get Quick. This is the band tearing up their own past like a parking ticket and booting down the door of reality in silver cuban heels. Fruits of Oblivion doesn’t petition for your attention. It disintegrates the part of your brain that asks questions.
Like a frothy fever gallop through soul-jazz sirens in an apocalyptic disco, the album announces itself like a mirror cracking in reverse. Vanderwolf’s guitar churns out broken glam riffs like corrupted memories of Top of the Pops. Joy’s drumming pulses like a radar slamming through static.
Mae Voce’s arrival as co-frontperson is nothing short of galactic. She’s not captured on the vinyl, she haunts it. She curls around the groove like smoke — the lyrics read like stolen diary entries from a time traveler with a grudge.
Magus’s bass is colder now, more exacting, almost clinical — as if he’s measuring the perimeter of madness. His technique feels like a nihilist dub experiment from a West Berlin bunker served in slices of ice-funk perfection. Rumors he mixed it blindfolded while on a sensory deprivation fast only add to the vibe.
The final track was recorded during the band’s Nordome debut with hidden mics and ritual interference. At one point, you hear someone whisper “I think we broke it” — and then the song folds into silence like a collapsing wave function.
This is not an album you can casually spin while washing the dishes. This is the kind of record that lives under your bed and whispers to your dreams. Don’t call Fruits of Oblivion a comeback — it’s much more than that. It’s a possession.
* * * * * *
May 1976
The Fruits Of Oblivion Are Falling Again
Jon Pynchon, London Psychogeographical Association
They called it a record.
It was never just a record. It was a seal, a container, a memory virus pressed into vinyl. Those who played it backwards heard warnings. Those who played it forwards were never quite the same.
I was in Shoreditch when the signal first hit. We’d rigged the aerial through a Mammothgon tour bus and filtered the static through Joy’s old voice box. That’s when we caught it — not the album, but the shadow of it. Like catching your own reflection in a shop window, but the eyes move before you do.
Voce said not to listen past the midpoint. “That’s where the echo lives,” she said, “that’s where the copy of the band plays you.”
In this version of 1975, The Get Quick never splintered. They just… got bigger. Too big. They played the last festival, the one no one remembers, the one where time blinked. This album came back from there.
You’ll know it by the smell of burning coils.
If you find the vinyl, check the etching in the dead wax. If it reads QUIA ABSINT, then you’ve got a live one. Do not play under water under moonlight under the influence. Do not fall asleep while it spins. And above all, never mic up the speaker and hit playback.
“YOU WILL KNOW THEM BY THEIR SHADOWS.”
* * * * * *
June 1976
TGQ: “ENWRANGLED” In Red Tape
Emmanuel Radnitzky, Ad Brigade
After years of setbacks and scandals it seemed as if the feature film version of The Get Quick’s popular 60s TV show AMERICAN WRANGLERS would finally see completion. Late last month, accepting a Lifetime Achievement Award from the American Film Institute, director Orson Welles took the opportunity to publicly screen three scenes from the film. Positive response from the captive ceremony audience was overwhelming and the industry was soon abuzz with excited speculation.
But how quickly tides have turned...
In securing the budget to launch the project Welles, unable to find support in Hollywood, had turned to Iran. Now, with the sudden overthrow of the Shah, the financial backing has fallen through. S. True Smith claims to have been able to underwrite the funds to complete the film, but now there is the sticky question of ownership. It seems the project has once again fallen into a quagmire of lawsuits and red tape and it may be years, or even decades, before the film finally hits the screens.
“Profoundly disappointed,” is how Erjk Vanderwolf encapsulated his mood at a recent press conference.
Coco LeBree, who claims to have seen most of the film, albeit out of sequential order, reports that “It may be the thing I am most proud of in my life.”
When asked where he will go from here, a disgruntled-looking Welles replied, “I don’t know. How much lower can one sink? Television commercials, perhaps.”
* * * * * *
July 1976
Prof. Cromicon: Destroying The Legacy Of TGQ?
Thomas Malin, Spectre News
In what can only be described as an act of total defiance, Professor Cromicon, the elusive and infamous figure behind Cromicon Industries, has made another outrageous claim regarding the band’s unreleased albums. He has vowed to prevent the release of Vague MegaTrip, the band’s long-delayed “concept album,” arguing that it is “unfit for human consumption” due to the band’s increasing obsession with mind-altering practices and occult substances.
“This music is a disaster,” Cromicon stated during an appearance on the Nightmare Network, a late-night occult talk show. “It’s not just unlistenable, it’s dangerous. These are sounds designed to unlock your mind to other dimensions, dimensions where you may never return.”
The statements have caused an uproar in the rock community, with fans and critics alike questioning Cromicon’s true motives. Some speculate that Cromicon, who has long been rumored to be involved in secret government operations, is merely attempting to control the band’s legacy to avoid any association with his shadowy past.
Meanwhile, The Get Quick remain defiant, continuing to work on their upcoming concert film, which is said to incorporate footage of the band’s mysterious performances in the Pennsylvania Grand Canyon and their time with experimental filmmakers.
* * * * * *
August 1976
Erjk Vanderwolf's Self-Destructive New Art
Jack Sander, ArtLust Magazine
It’s official: Erjk Vanderwolf, guitar mangler and enigmatic frontman of The Get Quick, has begun dabbling in something far beyond the rock world.
Vanderwolf, known for his highly flammable stage presence and disjointed interviews, has taken a sharp turn into visual art, with his first solo gallery show opening in London this week.
Titled Fragments of the Forbidden, the collection features works that are as unnerving as they are brilliant. Known for his spastic guitar solos and layered vocal harmonies, Vanderwolf has now translated his musical chops into disorienting, fragmented collages. Some pieces are painted in deep, unsettling reds and blacks, while others feature fractured reflections of ancient occult symbols and distorted faces.
Critics have called the exhibit “surreal,” “transgressive,” and “utterly disorienting.” One gallery-goer opined “It’s almost as if Vanderwolf is trying to recreate the primal state of human experience, like unmaking the world itself.”
Vanderwolf himself has made no comment on the deeper meanings behind the works.
* * * * * *
December 1976
Magus Makes A Bid
Berick Traven, Socialisme ou Barbarie
Mere hours after wrapping recording sessions for a new Get Quick album, Alex Magus was spotted boarding a private jet chartered for Edinburgh, Scotland. He is reportedly bound for the Lovejoy & Turnbull auction house to bid on a collection of five books, the work of Austin Osman Spare (1886 - 1956) a reclusive English artist and occult philosopher.
Although Magus admits a certain admiration for A. O. Spare’s grotesque drawings, he claims his mission to be on the behalf of an old friend, a certain Mrs Patterson. The work of Aubrey Beardsley is more to his taste, he confesses with a wink.
* * * * * *
January 1977
The Get Quick and the Occult Rock Festival
Lucius Bromley, The Darkened Light
This year, in what can only be described as an astonishing event, The Get Quick headlined the inaugural Symposium of Sound and Shadow, an occult-themed music festival held in the remote mountains of Romania. A mix of experimental bands, cult artists, and esoteric theorists gathered to celebrate the intersection of music and magic.
Throughout the week-long festival, The Get Quick’s sets were an ongoing series of ritualistic performances, blending rock & roll with occult ceremony, ancient liturgy, and unsettling theatrics. Each set was designed to echo the themes of The Fruits of Oblivion, as the band members were reportedly seen invoking various deities from the darker corners of mythical tradition, making eye contact with the audience as if connecting them with something beyond the material realm.
A particular highlight was the band working though and early version of “Black Sun Ceremony,” a ritualized live performance that held the crowd utterly transfixed for the better part of an hour.
* * * * * *
March 1977
The Black Sun Ceremony
Robert Beck, Scandinavian Institute of Comparative Vandalism
March 23 – Musicalchemy Conference, Zurich.
Staged in the grand ballroom of the defunct Hotel Übellicht during the clandestine Musicalchemy Conference, The Black Sun Ceremony was not a concert — it was an invocation. The Get Quick, clad in tattered velvet robes and veils of copper wire, performed a single continuous doom-laden drone riff excursion for exactly 77 minutes, guided by an obsidian metronome said to have once belonged to Graham Bond.
Audience members — invite-only, mostly occultists, sonic theorists, and rogue diplomats — were instructed to wear mirrored masks and remain silent. At the climax, Mae Voce recited glossolalic verses into a reel-to-reel loop, while Mitchell Joy pounded out timpani and gong swells and Alex Magus triggered seismic sub-bass pulses that reportedly cracked crystal in the chandelier. Erjk Vanderwolf played a guitar made of volcanic glass strung with surgical wire, drawing feedback described in post-event reports as “like a choir of angels dying backwards.”
An inverted sun symbol was projected onto the ballroom ceiling, pulsing in time with the band’s escalating distortion. One witness claimed to have seen a second audience reflected in the mirrored masks—shadow doubles mouthing different words.
No official recording exists. The venue burned down later that month under mysterious circumstances. Attendees described the aftermath as “euphoric,” “irradiated,” and in one case, “chronologically unmoored for several days.”
The ceremony has never been repeated. Not in this timeline, anyway.
* * * * * *
April 1977
TGQ To Tour Via The Orient Express
Darth Cronkite, Ye Olde Guarde Weekly
S. True Smith has done it again: the human hype-machine has plotted a press-luring tour for his clients, The Get Quick, on the famed European rail-line, The Orient Express.
TGQ will embark, after their opening night show in Paris, to scheduled gigs in Lausanne (on Lake Geneva), Milan, Venice, the Serbian capital of Belgrade, the Bulgarian capital of Sofia and finally Istanbul’s Golden Horn, where the band plans to wrap it all up with a concert on the famed Galata Bridge.
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June 1977
The Get Quick: Lost In Arizona
Ret Marut, Gruppe SPUR
The Get Quick have been in the Grand Canyon — yes, the actual Grand Canyon — for the past two weeks working with cinematic auteur Water Ego on an hallucinatory concert film. They have performed songs at both the Lookout Studio and Bright Angel Lodge as well as filming segments at the Desert View Watchtower, Hopi House and Grand Canyon Railway Depot. After this primary footage was in the can, the crew ventured out to find some of the less accessible photogenic points along the 277-mile canyon.
Locals seem somewhat concerned, as temperatures within the Inner Gorge have exceeded 100°F (37.8°C) three times during the past week, and the crew has not been heard from since last Thursday.
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March 1978
TGQ’s Spanish Vacation
Juan Esseintes, (a) re: bores
The Get Quick are currently ensconced at the foot of Montserrat, a breathtaking mountain in Catalonia, Spain. The group — Mitchell Joy, Erjk Vanderwolf, Alex Magus, Mae Voce and S. True Smith — arrived last Monday on a train from Barcelona. The reasons for their visit are not quite clear.
“Mountaineering,” claims Mr Joy, “you know, repelling and reconnoitering and whatnot.”
It’s true that the jagged face is popular among mountaineers, with enthusiastic climbers almost constantly scrambling over the bright pink rock face towards the “serrated” summit, standing some 4,000 feet above sea-level.
Vanderwolf was heard to remark that he was hoping to get a bottle of B&B — no doubt referring to Santa María de Montserrat, the Benedictine abbey on site. Some Arthurian scholars have speculated that the Virgin of Montserrat sanctuary on the abbey grounds may even be the secret location of the Holy Grail.
S. True Smith voiced plans to visit the basilica to catch a performance of one of the oldest boys’ choirs in Europe. And even went so far as to wonder aloud if they would be willing to record backing vocal sections for the next TGQ album.
The entire area is also volcanically active, and reportedly poised for an eruption at any moment.
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May 1978
TGQ Train In Tuvan Throat Singing
Slavoj Zizek, Non-Linear Review
On their latest tour The Get Quick have secured a most unusual opening act: Huun Huur Tu — a group of traditional Tuvan Throat Singers.
“We want to expose our audience to these incredible people and their wondrous singing style,” says Mae Voce.
Meanwhile Erjk Vanderwolf and Alex Magus have taken the opportunity to study the complex vocal techniques of their new tour-mates. And, under their tutelage, Magus claims to have begun unlocking the secret mechanics behind the group’s mysterious vocalizations.
“The throat singer is able to produce two distinct sounds at the same time,” explains Magus. A practice reportedly also known to Tibetan Buddhist Monks, Mongolians, the Inuit of Siberia and the Eskimos of North America. And although the style of what has been variously referred to as overtone- harmonic- or multiphonic-singing ranges from a low growl to a high whistling sound, the method is remarkably similar.
“No one can sing two separate patterns — melody and counterpoint — at the same time,” states Magus. “But what they often do is to produce a high-pitched melody over a low droning note, creating chords like you might hear from a bagpipe.”
Magus goes on to explain that some expert throat singers can actually emit four distinct tones at the same time.
“You see the fundamental tone produced by vibrating vocal chords is colored by several higher-pitched overtones. These harmonics determine the timbre of the sound we hear,” says Magus. “Some overtones resonate better than others — depending on the shape of the individual’s throat and mouth. A throat singer must first determine what fundamental tone has the strongest harmonies. Then, after much training and intense practice, the singers learn to vary the pitch of the overtones, emphasizing different harmonics and creating a melody. This can only be accomplished through nuanced movements of the throat, tongue, lips and jaw, learned by sitting in a meditative near-trance for hours manipulating their vocal folds and vibrating cartilage and tissue.”
Sound gross? Like not much fun? Nor particularly rewarding?
“It’s very rewarding,” Magus assures us. “I’m even thinking of quitting the headliners and joining the openers,” he laughs. “Of course the pay wouldn’t be quite as good.”
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September 1978
Coco’s Road to Recovery and Transformation
Lana Regina, Vanity International
After a series of public breakdowns and private struggles, bassist and the occasional feminine face of The Get Quick, Coco LeBree, has finally emerged from his self-imposed hiatus. Sources say he has spent the last year in isolation, recovering from his well-documented battles with addiction, health issues, and band infighting.
In a highly anticipated interview, LeBree sat down with yours truly to discuss his return. "I had to take a break," he said, voice heavy but focused. "The chaos of the road, the pressures... it all started to eat me alive. But I’ve rediscovered myself. Music, yes, but also... my purpose. I’ve been doing some very different work. Art, meditation, studying ancient healing techniques."
In a stunning reveal, LeBree also discussed his plans to embark on a solo project that will delve into the spiritual aspects of his journey, using a mix of acoustic guitar, Eastern percussion, Tuvan throat singing (influenced by TGQ’s recent collaborators), and deeply reflective lyricism.
“I’ve changed,” he said, locking eyes with this interviewer. “And the world’s going to see it.”
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December 1978
The Get Quick and the Digital Dream
Daphne Tides, Spectrum Magazine
In a move that has sent shockwaves through the music industry, The Get Quick have begun experimenting with early digital technology in the creation of their new album, THE MAGIC THEATER. Rumors from the band’s camp suggest that Mitchell Joy has become obsessed with the idea of “programming music,” creating what could be described as the first “truly futuristic album.”
Sources close to the band claim that Joy has been consulting with avant-garde composers and engineers working in the nascent fields of digital synthesis and computer music. The most fascinating aspect of these experiments is the mysterious machine, referred to only as “The Impresario,” which was reportedly built by Joy himself in a series of all-night sessions.
The machine, which supposedly blends elements of both electronic sound manipulation and ritualistic performance, is said to have been used in both rehearsals and live shows, although no one has yet documented it in action. It’s unclear whether it will make its official debut during The Get Quick’s upcoming European tour. "The Impresario will change everything," Joy promises. "It’s not just music, it’s an experience. A journey to take. A fate to embrace."
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May 1979
Voce Bows Out
Asger Jørgen Nash, Armed Desire
The Get Quick are once again reduced to a trio following Mae Voce’s elegant parting (via hydroplane) to pursue a solo career.
The remaining three have already filmed a TV appearance and it seems that they will carry on this way rather than recruit a glamorous replacement for Voce — who is understood to be currently negotiating a lucrative multi-album recording contract and seriously considering a career in French cinema.
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July 1979
The Get Quick Get Digitized
Fox Avenarius Lloyd, The City Fabric
The Get Quick have spearheaded a movement by such artists as Fleetwood Mac, Ry Cooder and Giorgio Moroder to utilize a new breakthrough in recording technology.
These new digital recorders sample the sound 40- to 50,000 times per second, storing the information in an electronic shorthand of ones and zeros. With no magnetic dust and archaic tape reels involved, the digital method promises to be the most accurate device at capturing and playing back sound ever created.
“The only downside is the price,” says Mitchell Joy. “The production system we’re playing with is phenomenally expensive, probably in the neighborhood of a hundred thousand dollars. We have to be careful not to spill our drinks.”
“The best thing about working with something new,” explains Erjk Vanderwolf, “whether it’s a new instrument or a new technology, is that it always inspires a new approach. In this case, we’ve been so guitar-heavy in the past I thought it might be nice to go for more of a reggae-mix — where the bass and kick/snare are very up front, with thin synth beds coloring the background and spiky guitar blasting in and out.”
So the new album not only promises to sound superb, but contain a few stylistic surprises as well.
“My dream is to reach the kids in high school with the Kansas tee-shirts and the Gary Wright albums in their bedrooms,” says Erjk. “Reach out and throttle them.”
“American audiences deserve something better,” Joy claims — (although the band’s mission statement seems to contain a paradox or two. The Get Quick, never a group to shy away from iconic imagery in the past, now seem intent on smashing the idols of modern pop music.) “I don’t want to spend my time signing autographs,” says Joy. “That’s not rock & roll.”
TGQ have more than flirted with the mainstream in days of yore, and once or twice even sparked waves of popular taste. But over the years commercial success has proven a fickle mistress — especially when the artiste would rather follow their muse.
“The so-called legends of rock have all become mere shadows of themselves,” says Vanderwolf, “old men going through the motions for the money. We have no intention of losing our vitality, or forgetting why we got into this in the first place.”
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August 1979
Coco LeBree Returns to London
Oscar Finch, SoundScape Weekly
In a surprise move, Coco LeBree, former bassist and vocal force behind The Get Quick, has resurfaced in London after a year-long absence — (and cutting quite the masculine figure too).
Following Mae Voce’s departure, the band’s third founding member has made his way back to the UK from his self-imposed exile in India, where he reportedly studied traditional Indian tuning and fingering techniques, raga, yoga, and music theory with renowned gurus.
Rumors circulated that LeBree was contemplating a solo album, but close sources insist that his return to the band is far more than a passing interest. “She’s [sic] really tapped into something profound,” said a close friend. “The bass is her [sic?] life again, but it's no longer just a background instrument; it’s the central force. Her [sic!?!] playing is stronger, deeper, and more spiritual than ever before.”
LeBree is expected to return to The Get Quick’s lineup for their upcoming live tour — (but will he also be reverting to his feminine form?)
The band, for their part, are allegedly experimenting with new, “tighter” arrangements that incorporate LeBree newfound understanding of Eastern musical principles.
“I’ve learned to hear the pulse,” LeBree said cryptically when questioned about his return. “The bass is the heartbeat. You’ll hear it when you feel it.”
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November 1979
TGQ Turmoil: Magus Splits
Bertha Pappenheim, Billboard Liberation Front
Alex Magus is to depart from The Get Quick following their November 8 appearance in the all-star Rave Aid charity concert at the London Palladium — an event that Magus himself helped to organize.
It is understood that Magus is tired of live performance, and is anxious to develop some new ideas he has been formulating for several months, but which group pressures have prevented him from pursuing.
Most of his future career is likely to be in songwriting and record production, though he will also probably continue his push to have his esoteric essays and articles published in mainstream magazines.
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December 1979
The Get Quick’s Shifting Identity:
Magus, Joy, & Vanderwolf Tangle
Liam Ryder, Global Pulse
A stunning revelation has rocked the ever-mysterious world of The Get Quick: Alex Magus, the band’s bassist and resident wizard has announced his departure from the band following a high-profile appearance at the Rave Aid concert on November 8 at London’s Palladium.
Magus, who has long been regarded as one of the most enigmatic figures in rock, is reportedly leaving the band due to “personal differences and creative frustration.” Those in Magus's inner circle claim he feels increasingly stifled by The Get Quick’s constant reinvention, and he is eager to develop a more personally resonant sound outside of the band’s ever-changing dynamic.
Mitchell Joy and Erjk Vanderwolf were said to be deeply shocked by the announcement, with Joy reportedly becoming “distraught” over the news. Sources suggest that Joy is considering a much more aggressive direction for the band, aiming to abandon the group’s experimental past in favor of a more traditional, if edgy, rock sound. Meanwhile, Vanderwolf, ever the roving delver, is rumored to be considering a deeper tech dive, an almost alchemical digital transformation for the band, seeking to push them into a totally new and unexplored musical landscape.
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December 1979
TGQ’s Virtual Reality Album: The New Frontier
Nadia Finch, MusicTech Today
In an unprecedented move, The Get Quick are preparing to release what they’re calling the first-ever “virtual reality album.”
After an extensive period of experimentation with digital technologies and conceptual art, the band has begun collaborating with computer engineers to create a fully immersive experience for their next project. The album will reportedly be accompanied by a VR component that will allow listeners to interact with the music in a way never before attempted.
“We’re not just making music; we’re creating a universe,” says Erjk Vanderwolf, whose vision for this new project is both ambitious and bizarre. “The album is more like an installation than an album, a living, breathing organism that you can step into.”
The project, tentatively titled Immersive Realities, will feature interactive soundscapes, with each song allowing the listener to manipulate and alter the audio based on their actions. At the press briefing, the band was vague on specifics, but sources claim that VR headsets, gestural controllers, and environmental sensors will allow fans to “live” within the music itself.
“It’s a bit like stepping inside a painting, but with sound,” says Mitchell Joy. “A real mind-bender.”
