During the late winter and early spring of 1998, I was an impressionable 20 year-old completely engulfed in drum ‘n’ bass and electronic music (ridiculously labeled “electronica,” though I don’t believe I’ve ever actually said that word out loud). I purchased Tortoise’s TNT (1998) on a whim, most likely because the local record store used to price new “indie” releases for less than ten bucks. Over the course of the following three months, TNT would entirely change the way I thought about, played, and listened to music. I was freakishly obsessed with this record; never before had I heard a band combine so many exotic styles of music (to my green ears at the time) to create such colorful and strikingly visual instrumental pieces. I promptly acquired Tortoise’s back catalog and have anticipated every new release since. It wasn’t until 2004’s It’s All Around You that the band stumbled a bit, but their first four records prior to that are essential.

For those whose Pretentious Arty Bullshit Detectors are particularly sensitive, Tortoise has been somewhat of a recurring annoyance over the past ten years or so. The reasons include, but are not limited to the following:

• Tortoise plays “instrumental music” and are difficult to categorize.
• They are/were adored by obnoxious hipsters, who call them “postmodern.”
• The members appear to be excessively humorless and self-important.
• The instrumentation includes vibraphones. And marimbas. Oh my God.
• Their live set has more or less been the same for the past eight years.
• At first listen, the music seems to consist solely on aimless noodling and flashy production tricks.

There is a grain of truth to most of the above, but really, what it comes down to is this: folks either like ‘em or not, and the band doesn’t seem to be losing any sleep over it. I’ve seen Tortoise live four times, and although the set list really hasn’t varied since that first show (which was a tad frustrating), they’ve always come across as laidback, easygoing, and approachable. Another common misconception about the group is that they’re a group of geeky white dudes who add pedestrian solos over geeky white grooves; on the contrary, their music is more about collective composition than a loose exchange of improvisational ideas. John McEntire’s Soma Studio has also been a crucial element in the writing process, and any given track will contain at least one clever production technique that benefits the song immensely. Yet one can still detect an organic warmth under the surface, a familiar human interaction beneath the glassy sheen of the vibes and the monstrously compressed drums. They’re not a jazz combo. They’re not “prog.” And they’re most certainly not a hip hop group. They’re just… Tortoise, and I’ve personalized them to the point where few things give me more pleasure than playing “Speakeasy” from Standards (2001) on that first warm day of spring.

Last week, Thrill Jockey released A Lazarus Taxon (2006), a four-disc collection of outtakes, rarities, B-sides, and remixes, one of the discs being a DVD of a few live performances and half a dozen videos. Other than exhibiting the surprisingly consistent and linear characteristic of the band’s discography, what’s most revealing about the set is the welcoming collaborative stance they have always possessed and the group’s willingness to let others restructure and modify their compositions: for example, glitched-out Warp mainstays Autechre contribute two remixes here, as does Nobukazu Takemura, while the band tries their hand at Yo La Tengo’s “Autumn Sweater.” Of course, it’s also a plus that the box collects plenty of rare 7” singles and fantastic Japanese-edition outtakes that have been incredibly tough to find since the group’s inception.

Tortoise solidified their lineup in 1997 with the addition of guitarist Jeff Parker, who has proven to be the band’s secret weapon over the years. His unique approach to the instrument is supplemented by a wondrous array of effects pedals, and his sound is instantly recognizable, which is about as high a compliment I can pay to any guitarist (or musician for that matter) in this day and age. “Wait” was one of Parker’s first contributions to the group and is culled from a Red Hot comp from 1996. Credited to the guitarist, it’s an early indication of the style he would bring to offshoots like Isotope 217 and Chicago Underground Quartet, a blend of lovely single-note lines and fluid-like runs with a decidedly Brazilian flavor.

“Wait” – Tortoise 4:27 (A Lazarus Taxon, Thrill Jockey 2006)

I’ve always enjoyed Takemura’s remix work more than his own releases, and his reworking of the title piece from TNT still remains my favorite Tortoise remix. The track begins with an addictive hip hop beat that mimics McEntire’s original drum pattern, and even toggles back to the band’s version for a bar or two to demonstrate the parallels between them. At around 5:11 the room is cleared for some Reich-like minimalism, complimented by harp arpeggios and Rob Mazurek’s signature cornet line. The hypnotic effect is suspended during the track’s slow exit as it descends into a deep cavern of darkness. This was originally a bonus track on the Japanese edition of TNT.

“TNT (Nobukazu Takemura Remix)” – Tortoise 10:03 (A Lazarus Taxon, Thrill Jockey 2006)

“Waihopai” was one-half of a Standards tour single quizzically titled Gently Cupping the Chin of the Ape (2001). McEntire has always had a flair for making the drum kit the most notable and interesting feature of the track, and “Waihopai” shows him completely unrestrained. Some shimmering NordLead patchwork introduces a thin 808 beat and a palm-muted lick from Parker, which becomes the palette for McEntire’s violent outbursts of percussion assaults.

“Waihopai” – Tortoise 4:13 (A Lazarus Taxon, Thrill Jockey 2006)

Normally, multi-disc box sets of this sort are geared toward longtime diehards and fanatical completists, but I have yet to see this package retail for more than twenty bucks, and with the expansive spectrum of terrific material here, it has my highest recommendation for anyone curious about why this band is so great.

“All for the Love of a Girl” – Acetone 3:04 (I Guess I Would, Vernon Yard 1994)

Following the fuzzed-out garage rock of their surprisingly great debut Cindy (1993), So-Cal trio Acetone took a detour into classic Country & Western for a lovely little EP of covers long before such a concept became fashionable. I must have been exposed to 50’s honky tonk crooner Johnny Horton (“When It’s Springtime in Alaska”) at some point in time during my childhood, because “All for the Love of a Girl” was strikingly familiar the first time I heard it. Acetone strip the original of its blustery orchestration, slow the tempo, and filter the song through a cloud of bong haze and the near-comatose buzz of a guitar. I’ve seen I Guess I Would (1994) in the used bins for a few bucks and it’s worth picking up, if only for their 11-minute psychedelic romp through Kris Kristofferson’s “Border Lord.”

“Losing My Religion” – Graveworm 4:24 (Engraved in Black, Nuclear Blast 2003)

I realize that anyone in their right mind will probably listen to this once, have a chuckle or two, and promptly forget about it minutes later. Which I’ll admit is my intention, I suppose. I don’t know anything about this band other than seeing their name scattered across Digital Metal on occasion. Oh no, I’ve said too much. Wraith-like vocal shrieks, hyper-picking duel guitars, an apocalyptic organ simmering underneath – at least Italy’s Graveworm knows a thing or two about black metal, and their deference to the original is sincere. I particularly enjoy how the drums double-time the second half of the chorus, along with the requisite lyric alteration to “I think I thought I saw you DIE.”

“Anticipation” – J Mascis 2:56 (Martin & Me, Reprise 1996)

I still remember that when I bought Martin & Me (1996) ten years ago, the clerk at the record store (a fellow Mascis devotee) just couldn’t get over the fact that J was wild enough to cover a 70’s relic that makes most rockers gag: “Dude, he covers ‘Anticipation!’ Carly Simon, bro!” Mascis may have been waist-deep in a drug binge at the time, but his solo interpretations of old Dinosaur Jr faves and intriguing cover choices made a fine record, at a time when he was arguably at the lowest rung on the popularity ladder. Here, his clunky guitar strumming and signature slacker drawl is quite charming; note his lazy enunciation of “wait” at 0:57 and 1:51.

“When the World Is Running Down” – ON 3:54 (Make Believe, self-released, 2003)

I used to love me some Ken Andrews. Failure was one of the most underrated bands of the 90’s, commanded by Andrews’ syrupy guitar crunch and creamy white vocals. He currently owns and operates a studio in Los Angeles where he slathers sickening gobs of compression over anyone who happens to book time, from Charlotte Martin to his own (now-defunct, disasterous) Year of the Rabbit. ON is his the moniker for his solo studio work, and this Police cover was likely constructed out of boredom. The original is absolutely untouchable, but I’m still on the fence about Andrews’ take; it’s either mildly entertaining in a streamlined, retro-futuristic sense, or it’s some tired, unnecessary Bladerunner-esque bullshit that’s achingly obvious from the entrance of those synth strings. Regardless, lay off the compression, dude. Seriously.

“Lyrics of Fury” – Tricky 3:20 (Pre-Millennium Tension, Island 1996)

Let me get the obvious out of the way: Martina is no Rakim. That’s not really the point here, however. Tricky’s humble cover of one of hip hop’s genuine classics is a pleasant diversion from his usual cocky swagger, and much like “Black Steel” from Maxinquaye (1995), is a reverent homage to his favorite era of popular music. Sonically, it’s certainly unique and quite impressive: Tricky laces the track with choking, backwards guitar samples while Martina stumbles her way through the lyrics, dodging the cluttered drums being hurled at her. I’ll bet that the first time Ra heard this, he leaned back, nodded his head, and simply uttered, “Cool.”