GILGONGO RECORDS

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FRENCH QUARTER - s/t LP/CD (GGGR-016).
LP: run of 800 (comes with loose CD version inside), all on black.
CD: to be released March 2008.
Original are created by the amazing Brittany Gould. Check her out: here.

FRENCH QUARTER.
FRENCH QUARTER is Stephen Steinbrink from Phoenix, AZ. After releasing and selling out of several DIY / handmade recordings (both done on his own and by labels such as Arbor and C-Salt), this self-titled LP, which comes with a CD version inside, is his first properly issued recording, and comes highly anticipated by anyone who has seen him on one of his excursions across various parts of the country. Stephen crafts memorable, vocal based songs using avariety of approaches and methods while maintaining a smooth consistency in sincerity, making these 10 songs an engaging and moving listen. Though comparable to others from past and present, (Neil Young? Woods? The Microphones? Karl Blau?) and despite his young age, Stephen is hard at work creating his own set of unique songs that feel like old friends upon first listen. Other notes: Brittany Gould (of Married in Birdichiev fame, Rhinoceropolis (Denver venue) co-runner) painted the art for this release. FRENCH QUARTER did a full US tour in late fall. This LP comes out in between that and another full US tour in early winter 2008.

REVIEWS.

(Dusted | dustedmagazine.com)
I have been tough but, I think, rather fair, with the label that put this record out. The bulk of Gilgongo’s releases have veered towards the personal, but in my opinion have overlooked the qualities that make music timeless for that very reason. It’s seemed more of a social endeavor than anything else, and if you are not necessarily a willing participant in the soft scene they traffic in, you’re essentially out on your ass. This French Quarter album is possibly the first release I’ve heard off the label that transcends these qualities solely on the strength of the material within. It’s acoustic folk-pop, done in a style you may be all too familiar with, but its maker, one Stephen Steinbrink of Phoenix, AZ, has a control over the pop form that is enviably rich. He’s a great songwriter without relying on deception or style, and his best songs are instantly memorable, follow an internal logic that’s not hard to pick apart but nearly impossible to knock, and plays to his own strengths as a musician. Some people have it, and others don’t, but friendship will only carry your talents so far. This guy doesn’t need the help; he’s already there, and the plaintive sadness in his material builds upon warmly regarded traditions in the genre, from Simon & Garfunkel to Neil Young to Doug Martsch, and speaks to the universal truths about how this brand of music has always affected us. Ten short offerings from an unimpeachable young talent. Outstanding. Includes a CD version.

(Tiny Mix Tapes | tinymixtapes.com)
I can’t quite decide if it’s the Neil Young-with-a-sinus-infection vocals, the muffled drums, the finger-picked, just barely overdriven guitar, or the way Stephen Steinbrink pronounces “absorb” (as something between “usurp” and “up sword”) that reduces me to emotional rubble when I listen to this song, but the combination of those elements certainly does. And while my living room’s tile floor — wrecked from the feet of too many Friday night house guests — might be too gross to walk across barefoot, this damaged room serves as the perfect place to ruminate on the songs lyrics, carefully chronicling “Our year of desperation, our year of desperate days” but reminding us that “All hope is not gone,” it’s just hidden deep in our pockets and songs. “Auld Lang Syne” for morose hipsters? Sure, if you wanna be cynical. But devastatingly beautiful pop music, for sure. —James P. Woodbury

(Coke Machine Glow | cokemachineglow.com)
I can’t believe I found this first. Not Pitchfork, not Stereogum, not even TinyMixTapes has a write-up on French Quarter. For perhaps the first time, I can’t stitch an opinion together from the detritus of online criticism, trying to pull the sutures tightly enough on my Frankenstein’s-monster of a review so as not to leave a scar. This time I have no guide but the drip of my serotonin and the ball in my throat.

It’s a strange feeling to have any bearing at all on the reception of a piece of music. The desire to pass judgment is a guilty impulse and as any visitor to my inbox can attest, listeners are as likely to overturn my verdicts as not. But usually I can relax in knowing my review is just one of many nestled in the Internet’s general critical consciousness—one tiny voice whose tendency to stammer is covered up in the general melee. But there’s no melee surrounding French Quarter. A conspicuous halo of silence encircles the gorgeous twining acoustics, and so I guess it’s up to me to stammer out my own lonely verdict on Stephen Steinbrink/French Quarter’s budding career. This is this: The drip is pretty fast. The ball is pretty big. I mean, this album is really good.

I keep trying to break through the songs’ outer shells to find a spastic core of teenage angst. At 19, Steinbrink must have recently graduated from high school, and so I have to assume somewhere in this self-titled release he’s going to hesitate, betray some awkward post-pubescent confusion, and show himself for what he is: a newborn blinking in the sun. But the entire album is steadily crafted, teasing out emotions with little more than a guitar and a nasal croon, and I’m left wondering what happened to the late-teenage identity crisis. Where are the awkward synthesizers, the humiliating lyrics, the crotch-grabbing overcompensations? French Quarter sounds completely sure of itself.

Even the contradictions on this album come across as entirely self-aware. Steinbrink is perfectly content to be a folk musician who will base an entire song around a drumbeat (“Before the Sun”), a sad guy writing happy songs (“Build Fires”) and a happy guy writing sad ones (“Snake Fantastic”). As he himself sings, “I won’t take no sides / Never argue or abide / Or vacillate and compromise / No, I won’t take no sides.” (Bonus points for “vacillate.”) And I don’t want to take sides either. I don’t want to pit the critic against the music lover. It just doesn’t work when I’m dealing with something so emotionally vulnerable. I don’t want to just peer at the threads of sentiment through a microscope and my self-protective shell of irony, trying to think of jokes. Instead, I want to wrap it around me. I want to wear these songs. I choose to see each inconsistency as improperly purled rib on a home-knit scarf.

Yeah, that’s all very nice, the critic responds, but what about the actual sounds these metaphor-inducing sincerities come wrapped in? What’s new here? Not much, it’s true. But neither is there a sense of grasping at newness. It’s a relief not to be blinded by the sparkle of production, and to simply accept the drafty-room acoustics and dusty guitars. In the place of aural bling, there are spare moments of innovation, inadvertent field recordings, and a snare drum that sounds like a wet towel hitting the locker room floor. And when Steinbrink’s voice harmonizes with itself to create eerie intervals that make these songs something more than merely pretty, I just want to kidnap Chris Walla and lock him in my basement so he can’t ever get his hands on French Quarter.

The only real disappointment this album brings is the regret that at 24 years of age, I’m too old to be precocious. And as a critic, I’m too analytical to really touch what makes this album so good. French Quarter is the soundtrack to my own irrelevance, and I can’t even feel bad about it. Keep doing your thing, Stephen, and I’ll be here. Fading into the background. -Jessica Faulds

(Omahype | omahype.com).
French Quarter is the name of 19 year old Phoenix AZ resident Stephen Steinbrink's music project. He's the only constant member and song writer, but is often joined on record and on stage by friends playing along. He's been releasing stuff (tapes, CD-Rs) since 2005, but earlier this year marked his first LP release on vinyl with Gilgongo Records. In a world where nearly every "indie rock band" feels like a rock band on a mini-major label, these fellas have their own set of rules - no shows at bars, no booking agents, and they won't work with anyone requiring draw protection. An interesting and inspired path to take.

The record comes across as hazy-folk from a sincere man, running the gamut from sad to ironic to uplifting. I usually have a hard time getting obsessed with this type of stuff (it sometimes fits with a little genre I call "boring music") but every song seems familiar and cozy. Not in a nostalgic "this sounds like my last favorite band!" throwback way, but in the way a random night with friends will just seem like a regular evening, but two years later it feels like that was one of the best nights you can remember, and maybe the only one you can remember that vividly from a whole summer. You know the feeling, when in retrospect it all came together and you'll reference a specific night or party as a measuring stick. This record feels like one of those nights. Also of note, Stephen and friends are touring the midwest this summer, and they'll need a place to play a show (whats the current house-show hotspot??) here in town tentatively on July 21st. Listen to these songs and you'll be begging to have the show in your living room. - Andrew

(Eastside Notes | eastsidenotes.wordpress.com)
Thanks to cokemachineglow for turning me on to this one. Musicians such as Stephen Steinbrink (aka French Quarter) can often go unheard and unappreciated if not for the determined efforts of searchers and seekers of the online music-critique-world. Much like last year's outstanding "War Elephant," Steinbrink combines talent, youth, and inexperience into a quietly powerful and insightful album.

At the ripe age of 19, Steinbrink possess that rare talent of doing much with not much. Many fledgling musicians feel that the key to initial success is to overwhelm and to leave breathless. The result is often a failed attempt at their own personal sound. Steinbrink is obviously not rushing anything here; the songs are laid back, and sound as if they were recorded in a closet at home. The creak of chairs and exhales of breath between tracks adds to the minimalist approach that underscores Steinbrink's folky and grungy melodies.

Using various combination of acoustic guitar, piano, subtle drumming, and simply-layered vocals, French Quarter delivers a thoroughly relaxing listen, one that is pleasing to the ears to say the least. "Golden Heart" and "Stay" dance playfully, while "Snake Fantastic" channels the quiet solitude of Yo La Tengo. "For Andy" conjures up some country swagger, and puts the listener on a quiet porch at sunset.

I should have expected something good from this album from the minute I opened the package--accompanying the CD was a handwritten note saying "Thanks a ton." Small efforts like that point to great generosity and genuine music. There's nothing not to like here, just a lot to enjoy.

(Collective Common | 001collective.com )
I’ve been to Arizona once. It was in late July, and it was hotter and drier than any other place I’ve been in my life. It felt like the top racks of ovens. It felt like the air around high-wattage light bulbs. At night, it was still hot, and when it rained, the rain was also hot. It was a hot hot place. Absurdly hot, I’d even say.

However, the band French Quarter does not evoke these images or feelings. Centered around the singing and songwriting of Tempe, Arizona native Stephen Steinbrink, French Quarter instead conjures the image of a road-wizened kid ambling through the nooks and crannies of our country, speeding down highways in beat up cars with only his thoughts to keep him company, a constant cycle of images of home, smells, troubadours of yesteryear and past loves. That’s how I’d like to think of Stephen, anyway, but I’ve never met him.

French Quarter’s self-titled LP (released on Gilgongo Records in 2007) is a strong and wonderful record, ten solid tracks of expressing the gamut of thoughts and emotions of 19 year old Steinbrink (whose lyrics embody a level of self-awareness and articulation that seems way beyond most people of this age). The last track, “Build Fires,” is definitely my favorite and an excellent cap to the record.

Backed by a fairly mellow instrumentation of acoustic guitar, bass, and drums, “Build Fires” is a catchy laid-back jam, evoking cool breezes coupled with the pleasant warmth of a summer sun (the antithesis of my Arizona experience, I believe.) Steinbrink coos simple, beautiful lyrics, and harmonizes pleasantly with himself (which is a hard feat to pull off successfully) during the refrain. “Build Fires” is a wonderful track off an impressive debut LP, and I’m definitely excited to hear French Quarter’s future offerings.

(Absolutepunk | absolutepunk.net)
We all have those eye-popping, heart-stopping, oh-I’ve-fainted moments. Maybe the head cheerleader – or more realistically, the aloof chick listening to Okkervil River in a non-ironic-yet-ironic denim vest – said yes to your date proposal. Maybe a pair of pants you bought at Salvation Army had a crisp fifty-dollar bill in the pocket. Listening to minimalist folk gets me happy, sure, but it doesn’t usually elicit such a visible response. French Quarter did, however. Stephen Steinbrink, the group’s only true member, narrates lightly accompanied pieces with a lethargic and opinionated tenor. His melodies are intriguing and interesting. And yeah, sweet, I’m digging it. But the pants-pissing and milk-squirting came when I stumbled upon this young man’s age. 19. Holy cow. This level of achievement shouldn’t be possible. I could barely tie my shoes at that age. Still, my slow mental state shouldn’t discount a whole age bracket. I present to you: the future.

This self-titled record quickly moves through ten tracks, encompassing moments of retro/haze rock (“Before The Sun”), ironic sing-a-longs (“Debt”) and folky Americana (“Build With Fire”). The lyrics are usually tongue in cheek and always smart: “Keep your body in a state that’s ugly for the bells / When they toll you will be so fit / To live in Hell,” comes from a dainty acoustic number called “Golden Heart.” Steinbrink creates music that implores the listener to look deeper and listen harder. What seems simple at first becomes almost overwhelmingly complicated. “In June” fits snugly into that oft-shunned “Creepy Lullaby” category. A mimicking piano and guitar combo follow Steinbrink as he sheepishly sings, “Weeks ago, I went along with your twisting arms / Now I know it is my own / They were my mistakes / You’re in the way / Of the flow from my younger days.” The song then takes a surprising turn in the form of a freeform electric guitar solo, which only adds to the track’s haunting tone.

“Snake Fantastic” begins with a downtrodden guitar riff and a sittin’-on-my-deathbed vocal style. It’s not until this point where I realized how amazingly gloomy French Quarter sounds. This isn’t folk for Friday night at the watering hole. This is folk for a lonely, rainy Wednesday. But as the fog sets in around my little home, not much else will do. Winter albums come and go, but few are cold like this.

Obviously, those words could be the final straw in turning you off to French Quarter. Face it, though, there’s going to be days when you wish music like this were available to you. In that case, stash French Quarter away for later. Otherwise, meet me on the front porch with a bottle of gin. I’ll bring the record player.

Recommended If You Like: Octoberman, Cocoon, wooden desks, Chris Bathgate with his balls in a death grip, shadows - Blake Solomon).

(Steve Jansen | Phoenix New Times).
One problem with the popular singer-songwriter genre is an egocentric focus on storytelling elements that feel a bit too sophisticated. Unfortunately, this lack of connection with the listener normally equals a disposable product rather than a timeless work of art. French Quarter main man Stephen Steinbrink — who brings a sad sincerity missing from acoustic guitar-wielding dudes and dudettes who are solely about the performance chutzpah — has never penned an emotionally distant tune. A foolproof example is FQ's latest full-length CD and vinyl release, S/T, which is the audio equivalent of somebody curling up with a super-soft, childhood fleece blankie hand-woven by Grandma. The often simple, sometimes sad, and always thought-provoking 10-track effort showcases Steinbrink at his captivating best. "In June" features Steinbrink with overdubbed vocals layered on top of a simple acoustic guitar chord and accompanying piano, while the catchy and uplifting "Build Fires" closes the album with engaging proclamations such as, "Our wills and our ways/Are two very different things/If there's a place I wouldn't show my face/It's the place where I was born." This is comfort food for the fractured or pensive soul.

(Imageyenation | imageyenation.com (specifically the song "In June").
All you really need to know about this track from Tempe, Arizona's French Quarter (a.k.a. Stephen Steinbrink and co-conspirators) is that the guitar and vocal melody is so pretty it makes me want to cry. Oh, and that it's taken from the French Quarter's self-titled debut CD, which is out now on Gilgongo Records.