There's something inherently non-anthemic about the type of music that's come to be known as "post-rock." In order for music to be considered anthemic, it has to work in big, sweeping gestures. Big, pounding rhythms, soaring melodies, powerful arrangements-- these are the things of American anthems. Up until now, most post-rock has featured none of these elements. The melodies-- when there are coherent melodies-- are usually sparse and minimalist, and far from hummable. Rhythms are complex and jerky, and difficult to tap out with only two feet. Vocals, which are rare, are generally languid; try to imagine Brian McMahan singing "The Star Spangled Banner" without lulling 10,000 grunting sports fans into a deep sleep.
It seems remarkably appropriate that Tortoise, perhaps the most vital architects of the post-rock genre, would be responsible for its greatest advancement since its inception. Standards, the group's fourth full-length, takes their already adventurous sound into brave new terrain, exploring previously unknown dimensions of sonic depth and expressiveness. Not only is it the most acoustically enthralling album they've released, it's also without a doubt the most playful, dynamic, and anthemic post-rock album that has been released to date.
I credit much of the increased fun factor on Standards to the more dominant role of guitarist Jeff Parker, whose work with Isotope 217 has proven that he's not only startlingly proficient, but also funny-- and funky. Though Parker's presence was a welcome addition to the band on TNT, he seems to have really come into his own as a band member on Standards, and his versatile guitar stylings not only breathe new life into Tortoise's sound, they also provide the kind of melodic centerpiece that previous recordings have at times lacked.
But to give Parker the preponderance of the credit for the more playful, exploratory nature of Standards would be unfair; Standards is the sound of a whole band fully embracing their influences. Over the course of the album, one can hear echoes of such diverse sources as Miles Davis, Tom Zé, Jimi Hendrix, Philip Glass, Suicide, Brian Eno, Parliament, and spaghetti westerns and sci-fi flicks alike. But what makes this album truly impressive is the depth with which the five members of Tortoise approach the amalgamation of these complex sources. Rather than simply cutting and pasting superficial elements from a variety of genres, Standards sees the band truly reveling in the sounds of their influences. As the fucked up American flag on the record's cover suggests, Tortoise has taken this record as an opportunity to revisit an entire history of American music-- from jazz through dance and electronica-- and reshape it into an permutation of their own.
Appropriately, Standards kicks off with a bang: the unrestrained, gorgeous blast of noise that opens its first track, "Seneca." As John McEntire wails on his drumkit even more aggressively than he did in his wild Bastro days, Jeff Parker's guitar intones a simple, highly melodic riff. The phrasing, and the explosive energy of McEntire's playing, leaves these few simple notes sounding utterly huge. After this pattern repeats, "Seneca" metamorphoses into a more complex, but equally dynamic track, that combines all the tenets of the traditional post-rock sound with some tasty new extras. As the beautiful chaos of the song's intro fades away, McEntire chimes in with what is perhaps the single most compelling beat he has produced over the course of his career, every bit as primal as it is astoundingly complex.
With such diverse sonic elements as handclaps, backwards distorted guitars and, yes, vibraphones, "Seneca," like many other tracks on Standards, succeeds in expanding the traditional post-rock sound. "Eros" follows, building upon a foundation of Latin-tinged percussion and a thick bass groove with intermittent sonar blips, spastic, squelching analog synth, and wah-wah guitar. As with the best of Tortoise, these tracks can be enjoyed on many levels, but when listened to carefully, they reveal seemingly infinite sonic treasures.
The latter half of Standards sees Tortoise breaking even farther away from the trappings of traditional post-rock. "Blackjack," one of the album's many high points, combines a guitar melody that could have been lifted directly off of a '60s Morricone score with high-pitched dance synthesizers and a straightforward, commanding beat. Whereas most of the tracks on TNT were written in the studio, and often fell victim to a high aimless noodling factor, the band composed most of Standards ahead of time, and as a result, "Blackjack," along with the other nine songs on the album, are beautifully structured, and develop flawlessly from beginning to end.
Tortoise has always been a band that thrives on subtlety. With Standards, they've finally managed to arrange those subtleties to form broad, bold sonic outlines. As a result, this record is by far the most intense, compelling, and memorable Tortoise has released to date. With its potent combination of the powerhouse wallop of rock and roll and the aural intricacy of jazz, minimalism, and electronica, Standards serves as the first Tortoise album that's every bit as exciting as it is intriguing.
