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The best kept secret in music


"Lust for Life, by Grant Stoddard"

If Morrissey and Siouxsie Sioux teamed up to rework "Leader of the Pack," they might sound much like Quarterslot — punky, morose purveyors of sexually frustrated female temper tantrums set to music. The unsigned New York City trio is attracting some much-needed attention with their spasmodic live shows and twenty-four-year-old singer Heidi Gallant. In songs like "Everybody Uses Everyone," Young lyrically confronts every desirable boy from her past who dared not to fuck her, while brittle guitar chords (Dave Hurwitz) drape over a skeletal beat (Mike Horan), aching for a bass line that never shows up.
Clad in a third-grader's party dress onstage, Gallant displays an unruly Patsy Cline/Karen O warble and a pair of legs that would drop a man at fifty paces. Oftentimes they wrap around a mike stand, amplifier, one of her bandmates or an unsuspecting audience member as she attempts — in vain — to hump the pain away.
The group is recording its first release, an EP tentatively titled "Fuck It, Let's Get Married." In the interim, they're playing every toilet on the Lower East Side. Heidi invited Nerve and drummer Mike Horan to a homemade dinner of salmon gumbo, where she discussed the origin of the band's name (it's what you'd think), why they live for loneliness, and the concept of "fallout pussy." Then she showed off the stripper pole her dad gave her. — Grant Stoddard

Describe your music.

Heidi: Well, I think it's been best described as punk-wop — punk meets do-wop.

How did you get together?

Heidi: I was on my way to visit my family in upstate New York when my car broke down. It was during this nightmare storm, and I ended up stuck for the night at a motel. A real gross one, too. It looked pretty abandoned. But I checked in and could hear music in the background. There was this lounge area with a house band that was rocking out to absolutely no one. They were playing all these covers by Zeppelin, the Doors, the Stones: three of my all-time favorite bands. They eventually knocked off, we all tied one on at the bar and ended up taking it back to my crappy motel room and . . . you know what a "magic fingers" bed is?


Heidi: You throw in a quarter, and it vibrates for a minute. I'd never been on one before, so I got ten bucks in quarters and we all hung out on this vibrating bed together. I told them that they could hang out while I took a shower. They heard me belting out one of the songs they played, and they burst into the shower asking me if I'd sing with them.

Mike: We had no idea she could sing like that.

Heidi: So I said, "If you wanna be in a band with me, you'd better move to the city."

Mike: We were planning to anyway. We've called her Quarterslot ever since that night.

Are there any female-fronted bands you've taken your cues from?

Heidi: No. When I'm doing anything related to the band, I forget I'm a girl at all times. As a girl, you can get so preoccupied with trying to look pretty and composed, and with the kind of things I'm singing about — well, I'm laying my cards on the table the time. I'm singing about boys that won't fuck me. It's pitiful. I can't hold anything back. From an early age, I've always taken on a guylike persona. I wanna be Robert Plant, I wanna be Jim Morrison, James Brown, I wanna be Mick Jagger. Even though I'm always dressed girly, it's a very masculine sexual persona.

I'd describe you as a cross between Iggy Pop, Wendy O. Williams and Tammy Wynette.

Heidi: It's funny that you should mention Wendy. I lived in the same building as her as a kid in Tribeca. My dad was a competitive track runner, and he says she used to lap him, she was in such great shape. Even with those big fake tits.

Who writes your lyrics?

Heidi: I do. I write the lyrics and melodies. I show them to the guys and they help restructure and arrange. I don't know anything about love, anything about guys, anything about being a girl. All of my songs are about my sexual failures.

Mike: The one question we ask ourselves when constructing a song is, "Is this something that strippers would dance to?" If it's not, we shelve it or rework it.

Maybe you should join Motley Crüe.

Heidi: We should definitely open for them.

Why don't you have a bass player?

Mike: I dunno. We didn't intend to do this sorta White Stripes thing. In fact, we did have a bass player, but since he left we've been doing fine without one. We err on the side of simplicity, always. A good song ought to grab you if there is a bass line there or not.

You've got the hottest pair of legs I've ever seen in my life. You must work out.

Mike: A little.

I was talking to her.

Heidi: The only workout I do is on stage. I wrap 'em around Dave's neck and squeeze real hard. I wear my dresses so short so that people who aren't in the front few rows can see my legs.

Your live show is really raunchy. You didn't even tone it down when your parents came to see you at the Pussycat Lounge.

Heidi: They're almost always in the audience.

You don't feel shy about asking fans to lick cream off your ass and tits with your mom and dad there?

Heidi: My parents are really cool. My mom can be a little squeamish about seeing me get down with other girls on stage, so I usually give her a heads-up if I feel like doing that. I mean, sure I'm half-naked and thrusting my pussy at the audience when we're onstage. But I think overall, people think it's funnier than it is raunchy. The joke is that I'm really a little girl pretending to be a sexy woman.

I see you have a stripper pole in your bedroom.

Heidi: I know, my dad installed it. What was he thinking? Wanna see me use it?

[Heidi begins death-defying multicircumnavigation of the pole, legs akimbo.]

Are there any pitfalls to putting dairy products on the skin?

Heidi: They're emulsifying, like moisturizers. I love it. I love getting dirty. I wanna smother on a can of Crisco and ride an amplifier.

What's with the baked goods at the show?

Heidi: I bake before a show — brownies, layer cake. It keeps me centered. And I've found that people who come to rock shows also like cake.

Are any of you guys dating right now?

Mike: It kind of feels like we are dating each other.

Heidi: Hmm . . . [using finger quotes] "dating". Not really. But I tell you, Mike and Dave do pretty well out of this deal. I get a lot of female fans, more than I could handle, so the guys end up getting a lot of my fallout pussy. I get a lot of guys telling me how their girlfriend wants to get in my pants. I'm like "bring 'em on" — so long as they're willing to share their boy.

What other rules do you have?

Heidi: Within the band, I have instituted four no-nos: no crack, no heroin, no guest DJing, and no blogging. Each is a terrible waste of life. Especially guest DJing. Band people can't beat-match. It's almost as retarded as giving a bunch of DJs two guitars and a drum set and asking them to play.

At the last gig, you introduced a song as being about Mike's ex-girlfriend when you called her a . . .

Heidi: Bitch-ass cunt whore. I said it, I'll say it again. She is a bitch-ass cunt whore. She led this dude along, tried to play him for a fool, had another man, brought this other guy home while Mike was over. Shit that don't fly. I just ain't fucking having none of that. Mike's awesome. He deserves two times the amount of pussy that Dave gets, which is a fair amount.

Mike: She hasn't seen the band.

Heidi: But when she does, I will bitch-slap her like she has never been bitch-slapped before. Sex and hopeless longing are what we're representing up there. When we're onstage, Dave represents every single guy I've ever liked and couldn't get. He's my muse during shows. To get his attention becomes my all-consuming goal. It's like, if I can get him, I've gotten all of them. But, as you saw at our show, he is totally indifferent to my advances. I'm putting my tight ass in his face, stroking his junk through his pants. He just looks at his guitar, which only makes me try harder. In fact, all of the songs are based around a single theme, which is me saying to a cute guy, "I am going to have to work so hard to get your cock inside of me." Sexual frustration is the name of the game here. Love, lust and longing. I think that all rock stars are recovering losers. If you didn't get dumped, cheated on, fucked with, why would anyone bother strapping on a guitar?  n°

  - Nerve.com

"Quarterslot and the Good Vibrations, by Jaime Peck"

I first met Heidi when we were both finalists in the Hot Body Contest at Opaline’s “Panty Party.” Needless to say, I was very, very drunk. She told me I should make out with her if I wanted us to win and I complied, but we still didn’t (Peppermint Gummi Bear was partial to the guy with the muscular butt.) But losers though we were, we’ve been friends ever since (I’m still in her cell phone as Jamie Hotbod), and when she invited me to come see her band play at a neat new venue, I was excited, expecting the unexpected.

Quarterslot and the Good Vibrations turned out to be a three-piece consisting of Heidi (Quarterslot) on vocals, and a couple of dudes (the Good Vibrations) on guitar and drums. They play a fun mixture of explosive indie blues and 50’s rock-musical kitsch whose closest modern cousin I can come up with is Morningwood.

Dressed in an altered version of a dress stolen from Mama-Slot (in attendance, having made the trip from Bedford; the town, not the silly street in Brooklyn), she looked like, and basically was, a naughty little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes and shoes, unfraid to show us her nice new bra and panties. She had a bowl of sugared strawberries onstage with her, which she fed to us with glee.

From the very first song, I knew she would hold nothing back. She kicked her legs and jumped around, alternately singing songs about how she liked boys (don’t we all, sometimes?) and was done with them (“I’m not gonna make French toast for you!”), as well as the greatest truth of all, especially for one entangled in the jaded LES Scene: “everybody uses everyone!” She morphed curiously from Janis Joplin to Sandra Dee to full out James Brown. It was totally groovy, as if somewhere along the line the three of them had gotten frisky and made a baby.

While the guitarist was mostly confined to playing simple chord progressions as a backdrop to Heidi’s theatrics, he got a good solo in while Heidi was spread eagle on the amp having pretend guitar sex with him.

At the end of the half hour set, Quarterslot was sweaty and exhausted, the audience smiley and sociable. She’d given us all her hott sexy energy and I did what I could to thank her; I let her feed me more strawberries. I might be a bit biased because I love her so, but I think that Heidi and her Vibrations are going to rock this homogenous little New York world, and even the cool kids will be a-dancing. - JaimesArtFarts.blogspot.com

"I Popped the Slot, by Quinta Chita"

A good crowd slowly forms in one of your favorite East Village venues as a steady stream of overpriced beer flows through your body. You start talking to a group of people about the freaky weather or your failed attempts at scoring some ass on the side when all of a sudden a curly haired brunette dressed like a sexier version of the Swiss Chocolate Miss offers you a brownie. A brownie so fluffy and decadent you start to wonder if maybe you stumbled into the wrong place, or that maybe she isn’t from the U.S. and doesn’t know what it means to be in an American rock club.

But, oh, she more than does!

You have just been cordially introduced to Quarterslot, of Quarterslot and the Good Vibrations. In a few moments that brownie plate will be replaced with a microphone and, soon enough, a powerful set of gyrating hips, acrobatic vocals and limber back will be on their way to rocking your eyes as well as your ears.

While other neo-punk fusions score the nether of eighties new wave and claim it as their own, Quarterslot and The Good Vibrations have a more eclectic feel – cleverly intertwining rhythms from more innocent times. On the inspired “Lonely Times,” the Good Vibrations infuse the production with fifties era riffs that get the crowd missing poodle skirts and searching for a dance partner who keeps a respectful distance. On the bounce fest that is “Good Vibrations” - an ode from Quarterslot to her deserving band-mates - the cutie croons, “I hate to say I need you, but I need you tonight.” Then she drags out each syllable of good vi-bra-tio-uh-huns, followed by high octave “uh-uh-huns,” is simply orgasmic. And of course, the ever-popular ballad, “Took My heart,” which contains as many levels as a Queen song but with a quenchable four-minute timetable.

Quarterslot originally embodied the high-energy spirit of a Gwen Stefani, the tight short dress sex appeal of a Tia Carrera and an impressive range that equals either one of them. But with each performance this love child comes into her own dimensions: as a doe-faced siren complete with head-banging hair flip, high kick and the dangerous stems to get away with it. With unabashed lyrics that dare to point a finger at the audience, a firm ass dressed in a black thong or white panties, contagious group stage jumping, and yeah, those damn good brownies we can’t get enough of – Quarterslot, I don’t hate to say it, but we need you tonight! - Quarterslot.net


Still working on that hot first release.


Feeling a bit camera shy


A girl with long hair and longer legs walks into a cheap hotel and catches the house band letting loose with raunchy covers of The Doors, The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin. Completely blown away, she buys the boys a round of drinks and invites them back to her room for a good time. They rollick around on a vibrating bed for many hours until they're dripping with sweat and all out of quarters. The girl takes a shower and that’s when the boys hear her sing. They burst into the bathroom and beg her to join their band. She agrees, but only if they'll move back to NYC with her. So they rent an apartment/rehearsal space in Williamsburg, Brooklyn and start writing songs in the sweltering summer heat. They make their debute one month later at CBGBs and immediately get solicited by every other downtown hot-spot you can name. The boys decide to call their girl Quarterslot, in honor of their first fun-filled night together, and she calls them her Good Vibrations. Their sound is sexy, spastic and soulful; drenched with a desperation that evokes the tawdriness of Motel 6's across the nation. One year later, they're still living together in sin: proof that love and happiness can be found on a bed called Magic Fingers.