Message From The Kid From Brooklyn

The Squelchers’ set is largely a visual experience. There’s sound, lots of it, at high volume, but it washes over you while you watch the musicians go through a stream of rock performance gestures in exaggerated and absurd form combined with Jerry Springer show chaos. Rat plays guitar, and strides out into the audience on stiff legs. Leslie Keffer flings her head and long hair down, but in slow motion, or turns to the audience in a dramarama confrontational way. And one of the other women wrestles on the ground with Kate, from the noise community here in Nashville, who stormed in and threw herself into it. The set is relentless, loud and leering.

LRS's set was a great wall-of-sound & stobe light pulsation. Leslie Keffer had two black eyes apparently from a show in Alabama. amps migrated around the room, everyone became completely disoriented.

Honesty is one of the defining qualities of noise music, an honesty and openness so extreme that it is basically dysfunctional in conventional settings, especially conventional music business settings. Noise music says isn’t it fun to turn the volume up real loud, aren’t women with guitars sexy, aren’t the poses of rock performers completely ridiculous, doesn’t the sound quality of a screech break your heart.........David Maddox June 2005

The second night got off to a dizzying start. Laundry Room Squelchers, a Florida collective made up of least 15 members (many of them likely temporary), scattered themselves around the fringes of Northsix's main space. After friendly warnings to those unfortunate enough to be standing in the proximity of strategically placed amps, the band attacked their gear. Noisemaker-bearing instrumentalists wove their way through the crowd, dragging audience members into the fray with their trailing cords. The music amounted to little more than a sustained roar, and it all crashed into a splay-legged and unkempt-hair pile in the middle of the floor. To be in the crowd was to not know which way was forward or backward while being swept up in a chaos that had, despite its illusive tameness, moments of real menace.
(New York Press / No Fun Fest 2004)

The Squelchers were entertaining, no doubt. But to call it fucking amazing seems absurd to me. Wanna see a bunch drunks with no inhibitions? It's not hard, in fact get drunk sometime and find out how easy it is. Now, if the Squelchers were stone cold sober and acted like scientists or zen priests all night, and THEN the show was exactly like it was, I would call it fucking amazing--that would be a treat.
(Quacky and Pidgeys big huge club 4/7/00)

Just a couple days ago I was overhearing these two co-workers talk about music. Hey, it's all music! I can appreciate all types of music, I've got an open mind about it." Oh great, I'm thinking, you've got an open mind! Well, I've got some shit you can borrow by Caroliner Rainbow Stewed Angel Skins, or how about some mp3's by The Laundry Room Squelchers? Or no, no, you've gotta check out this Ilhan Mimaroglu record....What's that, you're not familiar with the 1960s Turkish 'compositions for magnetic tape' scene? Well, it should be perfect for an open-minded music lover like yourself!

Lou Reed did a feedback record that lives on as one of the most reviled discs in the history of rock. Neil Young did one that was, surprisingly, a bit more musical. What makes Laundry Room Squelchers think that anyone would be interested in the same shit without any name recognition? There's nothing musical about a wall of feedback.

An embodiment of obliterated rock and roll from Miami Beach. A disharmonic convergence is derived from traditional instruments, bizarre electronic gadgets, and anything else that might help create some of the most unusual junk sounds this side of a train wreck.