FABIAN KEVORKIAN

“Kevorkian knew where the song would echo before it was played.”
— Colonel Boran, 1973.

Despite his flashy reputation Fabian Kevorkian remains one of the shadowiest satellite figures in The Get Quick mythos. Seen front and center in early photos, lauded in liner notes, and subsequently blamed for everything that has no other easy explanation. Simultaneously venerated and dismissed by fans who view him as either the eccentric orchestrator of TGQ’s success or a fast-talking charlatan eager to lash himself to an obvious cash cow.

But who was Fabian Kevorkian? Really...?

No verifiable birth records. Passport blacked out.
Last known occupation: “audio topographer” (whatever that means).


He was The Get Quick’s PRODUCER, to be sure. But most believe he was not a fan nor friend of the band, yet always covetously hovering around them — inevitably two steps ahead of their disasters, and always arriving just after something magic and wonderful had occurred.

He is rumored to be the bastard child of Armenian sound poet Levon Kevorkian and a French psychic archivist who worked with the Radiodiffusion-Télévision Française. Claims that he was a “reverse-engineered man,” built from recorded fragments of dead voices are dismissed as avant-garde propaganda.

In his early years Kevorkian reportedly developed a technique to bind emotional states to sub-bass frequencies — “Infrasonic Binding” — one of the main foundations of the Low End Doctrine.


He’s cited as the engineer behind the mythical “Subharmonic Vow” that supposedly opens Stunt of the Century, but can only truely be detected by the rattling teeth of a corpse.

The Lost Oslo Sessions (1970)
Witnesses say he supervised sessions in a sealed ice cellar where The Get Quick attempted to record entirely in a sustained dream-state. The result: a reel of hiss, broken Morse code, and what sounds like blubbering in Icelandic (no pun intended). Kevorkian called it “music in exile from itself.”

The Kevorkian Cuts
Bootleggers refer to a set of acetates marked only with a “K”etched on the inside groove. These versions of TGQ tracks are longer, more distorted, and contain entire verses never released. Some echo lyrics from later albums.


Kevorkian allegedly believed songs wrote themselves across time, and his job was to capture their shadows.

After his daring sanitarium escape in 1988 Fabian disappeared for good. It was rumored that, while hiding out and experimenting with jerry-rigged electronic systems on the run, he had accidentally been absorbed into the mainframe of the Holiday Inn hotel network, possibly as a latent algorithm, a kind of “echo that knows its source.”


1975, alluding to his exile from the industry, Alex Magus called Kevorkian: “An emissary of pre-recorded fate.”

In a 1997 interview Mitch was quoited as saying: “Fabian was everything to us back in those early days. We thought of him as the B-side of God.”

— Mark Question 2007

The Minister of Reverberation

“He claims to have discovered The Get Quick. He was there when we lit the fuse, sure. But The Get Quick weren’t discovered — they were detonated.”
— S True Smith, 1981 interview (heavily redacted)

The Early Years:

Kevorkian was already legendary in London’s underground tape labs by the late 50s — an engineer with a producer’s instincts and a bureaucrat’s access. His first known contact with The Get Quick came in 1960, shortly after the circulation of their chaotic live demo at the Velvet Glass in Soho.

He brought them into a disused RAF listening station in Wiltshire, now wired as a studio, and began shaping what would become the band’s early sonic identity — tight but cavernous, punchy yet full of subliminal drift.

“Fabian didn’t mic instruments — he mic’d the decisions leading up to them.”
— Mitchell Joy, TapeHiss Quarterly, 1974

The S True Connection:

Kevorkian and S True Smith formed a potent double act: Smith the public architect, the hype-man and arranger of corporate buy-ins (the infamous “Flash Action” perfume campaign, The forgotten TGQ puppet show on Luxembourg airwaves); and Kevorkian the private visionary—cutting tape like a psychoanalyst, miming the band through a song’s bridge by waving flags like an airport marshal, donning his trademark inspirational furry headgear, often refusing to explain what he was doing, or to even speak in coherent phrases at all.

Together the pair ushered the band onto major festival stages, late-night television, and oddly high-placed government galas—always with the distinct impression that someone more important was watching.

The Mind Control Allegations:

Nothing proven.
 Nothing withdrawn.
 But the rumors stack up:

Heavily encrypted speaker frequencies used in tour mixes that caused audience blackouts.

Audio-only rehearsals with the band under hypnosis, conducted in near-complete darkness.

The infamous “Caisson Process” — a technique Kevorkian once described in private memos as “laying narrative egg clusters in the listener’s auditory tract.”

“If he wasn’t MI5, then MI5 were following his lead.”
— Col. Boran, Vienna affidavit

Some say Stunt of the Century — the album that “doesn’t exist” — was his final, broken attempt to record a magick ritual in the form of a song suite that, when played, would erase itself and the listener simultaneously.

Collapse & Withdrawal:

By 1981, Kevorkian had moved to Los Angeles, supposedly at the behest of a paramilitary art collective disguised as a synth-pop label. There, in ’86 he began working with Crashing Magic on their major label debut, but things disintegrated quickly and Kevorkian abruptly left a session mid-take and never returned.

His ’87 total mental collapse is well documented. His disappearance and eventual fate, still up for debate.

Do songs ever completely end? Or do they only exhale?


— Mark Question 2011