Upping Their ‘Standards’

Tortoise

Standards (Thrill Jockey)

Whether you love them or hate them, Tortoise have been an undeniable force in underground rock since their inception in 1993. During this time, they have carved out a singular niche that makes them a point of reference for many other bands mining similar terrain (often labeled “post rock”). In simplest terms, Tortoise have explored the marriage of digital precision with a much cruder DIY aesthetic—perfectly embodied by the contrast between the plain, stamped cardboard sleeve of their first record and the beatcentric, low-end dub-inflected music contained therein. Their subsequent releases and live shows have solidified their reputation as arguably one of the most important bands of the ’90s.

Since Tortoise’s 1998 release TNT, the group has definitely not been taking it slow and steady as its moniker suggests, splitting its time instead between touring and allowing the members to take part in a number of side projects. This tireless work ethic has culminated in Standards, Tortoise’s fourth album proper—their seventh, if you count several “unofficial” releases and remix projects—and their most cohesive statement to date. Where previous albums tended to sound clinical and sterile, Standards is fresh and organic.

The band recorded the new album in drummer John McEntire’s recently completed Soma Electronic Music Studios. The freedom of recording at their own pace provided an essential element in the album’s success; the studio is effectively used as an instrument. Effects and dub-trickery, which have always been a part of the Tortoise sound, feel less forced, as if what once was an afterthought has been given a chance to develop more naturally. Also, songs are more fully realized than on previous releases. Instead of truncated jams with little variation, we get a seamless mix of wildly contrasting styles wedded to the throb and pulse of modern deejay culture.

In other words, Tortoise have finally started making music to listen to because it sounds good, not because “they have an awesome drummer” or “their bass lines are amazing.” Not that those elements aren’t there, but as with the music of the late Nigerian master Fela Kuti (who led bands of 70 to 80 musicians and dancers), the parts are irrelevant on their own. So completely has the group assimilated its disparate influences that some critics and fans regard their sound as part of the jazz continuum. In Jeff Parker, Tortoise’s guitarist since TNT, they have a member who can back up such a strong claim. As the youngest member inducted into Chicago’s elite Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM), a cooperative concern established by free jazz musicians in the ’70s, Parker can justifiably call what he does jazz music.

But in a broader sense, Tortoise more appropriately recall another Windy City collective, the Art Ensemble of Chicago, which coined the term “Great Black Music” for its melding of R&B, soul, funk, reggae, the avant-garde, and indigenous African folk musics into a jazz gumbo. Tortoise take a similar approach to music-making, but their heady stew incorporates the influence of electronic composers such as Vladimir Ussachevsky and Edgard Varèse; dub reggae pioneers King Tubby and Lee “Scratch” Perry; the motoric synth-driven Krautrock of Neu!; prog rockers King Crimson and Magma; hip-hop; deep house, drum-and-bass, and down-tempo electronica; and the hopped-up ’70s jazz-funk fusion records by Miles Davis and Herbie Hancock.

So while Tortoise have drawn much inspiration from jazz and fusion, I’d argue they shouldn’t be considered part of the jazz continuum. Although Parker and other members log time playing with jazz musicians, Tortoise’s connection to jazz is a tenuous one at best. Their music grooves; it does not swing. They jam on themes, but they don’t improvise in the same way that jazz musicians do. As the cover of Standards—a digitally crunched and reformatted American flag—suggests, their music is a melting pot of influences that remain distinct even as they become part of a unified whole.

To enjoy Tortoise’s latest album, the listener need not get mired in circular debates over how to define their music. From the first seconds of “Seneca”—which sounds more unfettered, more electrifying than anything Tortoise have ever produced—it is clear that they have improved dramatically. A feedback-drenched chordal wash of sound fades to a strongly stated drum groove with shifting bass accents and a lyrical vibraphone melody nicely offset by polyrhythmic handclaps. The unpredictability of these elements renders the music much looser and more freewheeling than on previous outings: The bass lines are less like winding paths to a foreseeable outcome and function more as a mode of transport.

While most of the tunes on Standards end up succumbing to the tyranny of the beat, a good portion of these come across as being more filmic than noodly. The group uses sustained vibraphone chords, melodicas, and other instruments to create a spacious ambience behind their insistent, nearly fascistic rhythms. On “Eros,” for example, a steady electronic tick is paired with a metallic clang, creating a gamelan texture. Both of these are mixed to the rear so that a heavily processed drum part can take the melodic foreground along with a funky bass line.