Chicago’s Tortoise has been around for nearly a quarter century, and what once was a novel approach to instrumentally focused genre hybridization has persevered into an indie cornerstone with a disinclination to rest on laurels. Illuminating a desire for growth, the band’s latest album sequences guest voices and an unforeseeable pop cover amidst their distinctive blend of jazz, rock, electronic, and experimental elements. The Catastrophist is out January 22 on vinyl, compact disc and digital via Thrill Jockey.
Tortoise’s initial two bassist-three percussionist lineup consisted of Doug McCombs, Bundy K. Brown, John Herndon, John McEntire, and Dan Bitney; they emerged in 1992 with a pair of 7-inches, one for Jesus Lizard bassist David Wm. Sims’ short-lived Torsion imprint and the other for Bettina Richards’ still-thriving Thrill Jockey label, initiating a long and fruitful association solidified through ‘94’s self-titled debut LP and continuing to the present.
For many, Tortoise’s arrival presented an attractive escape route from grunge’s diminishing returns. Brandishing heightened musicianship while being decidedly non-rockist in embracing dub, electronica, and remix culture (the latter inspiring ’95’s Rhythms, Resolutions & Clusters), their eschewal of vocals offered refreshment in a period saturated in angst.
Tortoise’s most well-known/highly regarded releases were spawned from these beginnings, ‘96’s Millions Now Living Will Never Die (which saw David Pajo replacing Brown) and ‘98’s TNT (guitarist Jeff Parker joins) capped by 2001’s Standards (and Pajo’s exit). Subsequently, their pace slowed, producing It’s All Around You in ’04 and Beacons of Ancestorship in ’09; it’s nice to discover that even after a gap of seven years The Catastrophist avoids the creative hiccups and gullies frequent on records by veteran bands.
And make no mistake, Tortoise is a veteran band; at this point in their existence the Rolling Stones were in between Dirty Work and Steel Wheels. Obviously there are major differences in the comparison; primary among them, this is only Tortoise’s seventh album. But on the other hand, the longevity seems to have encouraged the Chicagoans to do whatever the hell they want, and the distance from Beacons of Ancestorship makes this all the more notable.
The Catastrophist’s boldest maneuver (and frankly a horrible idea on paper) is an impossible to prognosticate version of David Essex’s “Rock On,” in part due to the band’s general avoidance, with the clear exception of The Brave and the Bold, their ‘06 covers collab with Bonnie “Prince” Billy, of non-group derived material. But moreover, its sheer unlikelihood relates to the source, which hit big in ’73 (and for others since) as a component in the ‘50s nostalgia wave of its decade, falling considerably outside Tortoise’s expected zone.
Yet the same can be said for a few of the selections on The Brave and the Bold, so “Rock On,” sung here by Tony Rittman of U.S. Maple, isn’t entirely without precedent. Delivered with a combination of straightforwardness (it’s no piss take) and contempo-tech infused moxie, it ends up in the plus side of the record’s balance sheet through pure chutzpah.
It’s far from the only surprise The Catastrophist has in store; in fact, the opening title track immediately brings a left-field flourish suggestive of video game music, an agreeable motif examined in greater depth a little later in the album in the succinct “Gopher Island.” As “The Catastrophist” unwinds it travels from a spotlight for Parker’s clean-plucked strings to a passage fitting for celluloid montage to a culminating futuristic fanfare.
A deep-seated trait in Tortoise’s personality is a predilection for instrumental soundscapes that might toy with insubstantially in a manner similar to how ‘70s Kosmische ended up flirting with mere space noodling and/or aspects of New Age. Early on some accused them of the crime of Fusion and even the transgression of Easy Listening, but to these ears if consistently emitting unruffled textures they never strayed into blandness.
As “Ox Duke” progresses its glistening techno-sheen thickens and subtly darkens. Even better is “Shake Hands with Danger”; sorta unwinding as a John Berry-esque spy theme, its driving rhythmic bedrock firmly establishes it as a byproduct of contemporary sensibilities. And “The Clearing Fills” connects the ‘90s post-rock sound Tortoise helped to define with a just a hint of the ambiance from Yo La Tengo’s classic And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out.
This aptly foreshadows an appearance by YLT’s drummer-singer Georgia Hubley on vocals. Registering like a rendition of a soul chestnut but contrasting significantly from the handful of actual R&B versions on Yo La Tengo’s recent Stuff Like That There, “Yonder Blue” lends The Catastrophist an unexpected highlight as it integrates familiar rudiments, the typically appealing vibe playing in particular. It also accentuates Hubley as a near-guaranteed record improver (though Tortoise’s first choice was Robert Wyatt; the UK legend declined due to retirement).
“Yonder Blue” is preceded by “Hot Coffee,” its generous slice of library soundtrack electro-funk providing Parker with a further opportunity to shine, and following Hubley’s appearance is “Tesseract”’s merger of gliding techno and jazz fusion; adding a touch of the proggy, it’s not likely to win over those having previously disdained the ingredients in their sonic recipe.
The Catastrophist’s roots lie in a commission from the City of Chicago; specifically, in 2010 they were drafted to compose a suite related to the area’s longstanding jazz/improv scene. While hints of this basis do linger, the group chose instead to use them as building blocks for an experience more in line with the norms of a Tortoise album.
And finale “At Odds with Logic” is exemplary Tortoise and without sounding like a retread: sturdy drumming with a dab of complexity; bass functioning in rhythm and melodic capacities; Parker’s guitar crispness; strands of keyboard/synth brightening the fabric; and structural redirection, the track’s pleasant opening offset with a heavy back end.
But the single “Gesceap” ultimately states the best case for why a new Tortoise LP is worth getting worked up about in 2016. Returning to the arcade-like synth tones, the cut gradually adds momentum and weight to a vibrant beginning and then turns up the vividness once again in the later portion’s fibrous weave.
The Catastrophist’s lengthiest and most expansive entry, it suggests cognizance of Dan Deacon and label mate Dan Friel alongside Terry Riley and the reliable Krautrock fount, and posits openness and curiosity into new sounds and developments as large in Tortoise’s relevance as something distinctly other than a ‘90s nostalgia trip.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
