Steve Brydges, Copper Press, Issue 4, I Can't Believe It's Not Fall 2000

"Tarentel: Sonic Cinematica"

Contrary to popular belief, the tide is not a gentle thing. It is strong and sweeping, slow and sure, a growing force that lulls on the surface as it ebbs, building in size and strength before pulling all things not tied down back out to sea with it. The forceful lull of the music of Tarentel is an ocean of blue-green sound that begins at low-tide and slowly envelops listeners with insistent rhythms and beatiful, repetitive melodies that swell with gentle yet unmistakable mass until the band decides to ease its captive out into the depths in the clutches of its gripping tonal undercurrent. Here is where Tarentel will either thrash them about like a whale tossing a fishing boat or where the band will take the willing listener under to drown them within the walls of their lugubrious and rich moonlit, glass-sky sonic excursions.

Water isn't even a necessity to lose one's self within Tarentel's music. The San Franciscan five-piece employs a gorgeous utilization of space and near-silence on their records, conjuring vast imagery and evoking thrilling emotions from simple, poetic means. Even the title of their first full-length, From Bone to Satellite is wildly evocative. Layers of atmospheric pressure and cinematic trilling from upwards of three guitarists reverberate across starry skies like streaks of slowed lightning, visible and dry, like a desert plain aglow. Or, to some, it all could represent a torrent of rain. It's wide open.

From Bone to Satellite is a sprawling and majestic album comprised of five instrumentals that span seventy-four minutes. At fifteen minutes a pop, on average, these songs could be an exhausting experience, and in a pleasantly rewarding way, they are, but how else should spending an hour being held submerged beneath heavy, black seas feel? However, as stated earlier, much of this album drifts like a makeshift life raft one found floating amidst bobbing debris. The listener can climb aboard to attempt recovery during Tarentel's peaceful moments of linger and loll.

By examining this album of epics, one discovers its cinematic scope is comprised not only of a broad sonic backdrop, but also of visceral detail. Within the first four minutes of the cathartic and comparatively direct "When We Almost Killed Ourselves," the album's second song, the music rumbles like rolling thunder, before slowing to a tranquil yet ebbing seven-minute coda.

This is followed by "Ursa Major, Ursa Minor," which opens with live air before a quickly plucked succession of harmonics enters and leads the instruments into the bulk of the song. A second guitar and a bass join, followed by increasingly complex percussion derived from sources beyond the trap kit. Slowly, over the course of several minutes, Tarentel build a tonal undercurrent that finally overcomes the listener and changes the course of the song irrevocably. Like waves crashing against the hull of a rolling yacht doing battle with high seas, guitars surge and fall, drums splash and ricochet and a bass hums beneath the keel. When the storm subsides, the remaining ten minutes is spent adrift amongst gently rolling waves and lightly textured acoustic and electric guitar.

The beautiful and melancholy "For Carl Sagan," a twenty-minute journey, follows. Its final five minutes are spent awash in radio static. It's well-placed, considering. Tarentel's final offering on From Bone to Satellite "Strange Attractors,"begins with ominous guitar figures that pluck a doom in Morse, as by the fourth minute, the creaking of picks sliding slowly across the guitar strings signals a stress fracture in the hull. Back and forth, higher and tighter becomes the stress until an eruption rips wide the vessel and all hell breaks loose, the ship comes apart and plummets [into] the black depths, leaving only feedback and miscellaneous flotsam floating on the frothy surface. All of which began with a simple, almost playful tug of the tide that first crept ashore during the album's opener, the lovely "Steede Bonnet." From Bone to Satellite is a thoroughly suffusive array of rich texture, stark blue light, vast sounds and density.

During the course of their brief, recorded history, Tarentel has developed and documented their sound with a bevy of releases. They debuted with a self-titled CDEP in 1998, and in 1999, released a very limited single of "When We Almost Killed Ourselves" that was pressed on clear vinyl, affixed to a slab of wood and adorned by a simple maroon cross, issued a new CDEP as part of Temporary Residence Limited's Travels in Constants series, then dropped From Bone to Satellite onto the world. 2000 has been graced by four new Tarentel releases, each on different overseas labels (two split singles, a 12" and a 7").

Out of Tarentel's five members, only three, Jefre Cantu-Ledesma, John Hughes and Daniel Grodinski, consider themselves part of the original lineup that came together over four years ago, although William Trevor Montgomery jammed with them and even played during their first show, when the band wasn't even called Tarentel. He quit, and officially rejoined in the summer of 1999. Patricia Kavanaugh left after the first EP, and Kenseth Thibideau, of the brilliant Rumah Sakit, left after From Bone to Satellite. Jeffrey Rosenberg is the latest addition to the Tarentel roster. Through all of the various changes, their label, Temporary Residence, has welcomed them home with open arms, cared for their releases with pride and a keen aesthetic sense (all of Tarentel's releases have been beautifully packaged), and sent them out into the rock world with a loving pat on the fanny. It's heart-warming to see, this relationship, as too many bands spurn one hard-working indie label for another after the first label put so much sweat effort into every detail. The efforts of labels like Temporary Residence are a shining example to others of how things should be done: Splendid packaging, innovative releases, subscription-only CD or LP releases, great bands, attention to detail and love, love, love.

It's apparent from Tarentel's discography, recent UK releases aside, the band is comfortable and appreciative of their label, as each of their label, as each of their stateside records bear the Temporary Residence Limited imprint. Tarentel has been just as exclusive with their choice of recording engineers, Scott Solter. He's been behind the board for each Tarentel release, providing Tarentel with a level of comfort they desire to produce their glorious sounds. Sometimes, he provides a swift kick in the pants, too. Whatever it takes, he's the man.

Tarentel has nothing specific in mind for their next release, and prefer to leave it as wide open as they have up to this point. Having a tendency to write fifteen-minute instrumental opuses does not necessitate the speedy release of a sugary single to follow-up the album and keep the fans primed for more. Tarentel is not The Promise Ring. Sliding a track of From Bone to Satellite between Braid and Thingy doesn't exactly promote the type of quick-hitting fluidity radio stations desire, at least not before one a.m., it doesn't. But that should suit Tarentel, who, like the sonorous tumult and sway of their grand epics, prefer to grow upon their audience with unsuspecting force. A gradual, steady increase of tidal proportions.

Copper Press: Did you form Tarentel for any specific reason other than the enjoyment of playing together? What was it that clicked and made Tarentel?

Cantu: I remember when Danny and I met we were both really excited about a lot of the same music, we were just getting tuned on to electronic and ambient stuff, and it seemed like we were discovering this whole new world of sound that was so different that what we were used to. Trevor, Danny and I used to play in my basement for hours just making sounds and melodies. Something obviously clicked, and we stuck it out, through a lot of people coming and going, 'cause we just really enjoy each other.

Hughes: To face down and destroy bands with vocalists in open battle... I personally wanted to make music that I felt was worthwhile and fresh. Nonjazz instrumental music hasn't been popular since well...the '50s I think!

Rosenberg: Good songwriting... for me that is the key ingredient that kept me around in the early days... the interplay of the two guitars together without the ordinary trappings of the pseudo rock band mentality. It was more akin to classical music, but in an entirely non-classical context.

Copper Press: What are some of the more obvious, in your opinion, ordinary trappings of the "pseudo rock band mentality?"

Cantu: OK. Maybe that deserves some explanation. Let's see... "Where's the hook?" or "All right, I have these two riffs, and then I want to go into thispart twice, then stop forlike 2 beats... or wait... maybe three beats! Then we get to that part where I sing..." Or maybe even (mimicking bass player): "What do your lyrics mean on that part? It just sounds like nonsense to me." Singer: "Uhh... it's hard to explain." Those kinds of things are not really a factor in our songwriting.

Rosenberg: I decided to start playing with Tarentel as a result of a few very dreamy guitar and drum and keyboard improvisation sessions with Cantu and Danny. When we all started rehearsing together, there was this extraordinary sense of patience thick in the air of the tiny rehearsal space (along with the sweat and stink); this was really important to me because it was something I had yet to incorporate into the way I write music. We had a good chemistry. We also fight a lot, but I think that is healthy.

Copper Press: How were you approaching music impatiently before? Were you impatient with your bandmates? The music or the songwriting process? Etc.?

Rosenberg: Well, I think that there was a certain willingness that I had not yet cultivated in playing in other bands to let the music evolve from simplicity into something more interesting. Like all bands I'v ever been a part of have always been striving to write very complex and intricate music, which I think is fine and still like a lot but definitely feels a little bit, uh, forced sometimes. I think that's what I mean, "forced."

Copper Press: Regarding your healthy fighting habits, does anyone ever walk off in a huff?

Rosenberg: Sure, but never in a really destructive or hurt way. We all sometimes like to act out our anger or frustration, but I think we acknowledge that we are all big babies sometimes, and it's OK. We're getting better at "talking about our issues."

Cantu: We all have our moments, but for good reason. We are all very opinionated, and feel strong about our ideas. Ultimately, I think we would like to reach a place where we know nothing is personal and our egos don't get in the way of songwriting. I htink we're close. We all try to leave the rehearsals the same way we walked in, no matter what happened.

Copper Press: How would you describe the interpersonal relationships of the band members? Close?

Rosenberg: We sleep in the same bed. Wear each other's underpants. Close?

Cantu: We mourn the death of each other's cats. That's close.

Copper Press: Outside of playing together in practice or songwriting situations, how much discussion of what the members want out of Tarentel is there?

Rosenberg: Well, we've been trying to have get-togethers outside of practice as well as little formulation meetings beforehand. Seems to be working out pretty well, although we definitely have some competing interests. That's what keeps it interesting though.

Cantu: We spend quite a bit of [time] discussing what we want and what we're doing... probably more than we actually play.

Copper Press: Has the band progressed from its early material? To what do you attribute this?

Cantu: We definitely have. I think most of the change came from the time right after Patricia left the band (after the first EP) and Kenseth was still in the band. This is around the time we started on all the stuff that eventually became From Bone to Satellite. Before that time we were, I feel, kinda in a rut, a lot of the stuff sounded the same, and didn't have much dynamic range. We were all starting to listen to different things, and discovering the people who influenced the people we listen [to], too. We were slowly (which we do a ton now) beginning to question our motives, our writing process and the songs themselves. I was really longing for more tension in the music, and we were all, I think, longing for something more dynamic and something that pushed us. Not only musically, but emotionally. We have ultimately come to a place where we are not afraid to go to extremes. It took a lot of time and arguing (in a good way) to figure that out.

Rosenberg: We've definitely gotten better at playing together. I'm not sure if you would call that "progress" per se, but... I think the next few records will show some different directions that we are exploring, new sounds and palettes. Although we are all happy with From Bone to Satellite, it's definitely just the tip of the iceberg of what we do as a band and what we are interested in. The greatest progress I think we have made is the evolution of a "feeling" that we evoke, rather than a style. Hopefully, whatever type of set we play, we will be capable of creating this type of energy.

Copper Press: In your mind, what is this feeling Tarentel's music evokes?

Rosenberg: (resisting the urge to give a "funny" answer) I think we are capable, when we are having an on night, of inspiring lots of emotions. It's not just melancholia or triumph or whatever might be the tone of the piece... I mean, obviously, it matters a lot where you are in your thoughts when you are experiencing music.

Grodinski: Tarentel began and continues to function without any definitive or set formulas. Much of our earlier material reflects that openness, but with an ambiguity that was a little self-conscious. When you give yourself such wide parameters to work within it can be disorienting at times, and because we were young as a band we were still becoming familiar with those creative freedoms and ourselves as musicians. As we continued to play, record, and broaden our range both in our music and our musical influences, we began to develop a more discernible dialogue together.

Hughes: Yes, but I'd be fucked to say how... different lineups? That attributes some of it. Less hero worship. We've been a little more comfortable finding and recognizing our own voice these days. That gives us maybe a little more confidence. But there is definitely something to be said of the early days of any band, and the excitement in discovering who you really are as a unit... I definitely long for the rediscovery of those days again. They may be filled with uncertainty, but mystery is a beautiful thing!

Copper Press: What is it about what Scott Solter does for Tarentel that makes the band keep wanting to use him?

Cantu: For me, above everything else, Scott understands us on a personal level. He understands what were trying to convey emotionally, as well as sonically. He pushes us, and he goes out of his way to make sure we give a really good performance, and tells us when we don't. We have a ton of respect for him, 'cause he has, time and time again, bent over backwardsfor us to get something done. For me, personally, he has been a great resource for discovering new music. From when we first walked in the door he would say things like, "Have you heard Zoviet France yet?" Or, "Have you heard Talk Talk's last LP Laughing Stock yet?" Or, "That's kinda like a Glen Branca part..." And I go out and track this stuff down and I'm just like, "Ahhhh! This is it. This guy knows where it's at."

Rosenberg: Scott has very quickly become a great engineer and producer, as a result of his incredible energy and thirst for new knowledge. He has that "I-won't-compromise-anything-for-this-record" quality and also the "You-fucking-kids-better-get-your-shit-together-so-we-all-don't-look-bad" quality - both of which are super-important in the studio. Also, he is great at finding terrific old gear and using it in very unique ways. His aesthetic and ours are very similar in that we love careful and antique sounding things... magnetic tape, ancient radio broadcast mics, preamps, compressors - you know what i mean. Not too uncommon in indie rock, but what sets Scott and Desmond apart is that they keep doing it against major-major-major odds and are, with the gear they acquire from garage sales and old studios and wherever as well as with their unique methodology, defining a sound that is clearly their own.

Grodinski: Working with Scott Solter has always been more of a working collaborative rather than the "engineer" who does all the technical band-aid labor. Our first recording as Tarentel, though we had no idea at the time, was Scott's very first full recording assignment. He told us this after the fact probably because he was concerned it would make us uneasy or something.

All in all, he managed the process is a real calm, casual, and professional way. If a problem came up, he was quick to resolve. Tarentel and he, in a sense, began at very similar places and because if this a real reciprocity developed which helped us evolve and all learn together. Once that closeness had been established it seemed silly to go elsewhere.

Hughes: He is very knowledgeable, he pushes us in the right directions, and helps us let go if something is ready (or beaten to death). He is also, by now, used to how we work, and how we want things to sound. That is a very important understanding to have with anyone who is commiting your art to a semi-permanent medium. He is the link between us and freezing that moment in time. If we had used someone who did not understand us (even partly) the results could have been disasterous. I liken it to a really good band with a bad singer: Most people will never get past the glaring negative to reach the gold inside. That is why it is so very important to work with people at every level of a project who understand what you are after. Does that make any sense?

Copper Press: How much of what's written is done during thr recording versus having everything set in stone prior to coming into the studio?

Cantu: Well, most of what we do isn't really in stone, but we do tend to go into the studio, lay something down, and then once we have it recorded, we begin to hear other things, new parts, etc., and start building from there.

Hughes: Mostly the outlines and general structure are understood in advance. In the studio the energy is what is transferred into the take. Basic takes are usually done in a couple of takes only, so a song can vary quite a bit depending on the moment. This has always been a central concept into the workings of this band. It is what keeps the music from sounding stale in my opinion, every time we perform a song it is always a little different each and every time we do it.

Copper Press: How successful has the band been at recreating the epic sounds and lushness of, say, From Bone to Satellite live?

Cantu: Well, we really don't try to. An LP is an LP and a live show is a live show. We do play songs from the LP live but we don't try to recreate them as much as we try to restate them in a new way. Much more exciting for us this way.

Hughes: I don't think we are generally as concerned with recreating exact orchestrations of the record live as we are in creating new and interesting paths for the songs to travel to. We usually have not been very hesitant to chop and manipulate songs into oblivion for the sake of keeping the live performance interesting. At any given show you could hear the same song being done in a completely new way (you can still hear the original song peeking out, but sometimes it wears a completely new suit).

Copper Press: As far as audience reception is concerned, where have your best shows been, and why do you think this is so?

Montgomery: Amsterdam, San Francisco. I think people that live amongst an elevated cultural scene are going to be a bit more prepared and open to the kind of ideas we are working with. In the city everything is always rushing by. We like to slow things down and really try and give the moment all of the glory it deserves; people can rest their weary heads at a Tarentel show and just relax, listen, and feel.

Cantu: New York was nice to us.

Rosenberg: Patronaat in Haarlem, NL this April. We are on fire. Managed to convince (musically) several drunken Dutchmen that they needed to pipe down and listen. Super-fun.

Hughes: That's a tough one... We've been pretty lucky in those respects. I'd venture to say the Netherlands show. We had some people talking and being obnoxious the whole show until we did our last two tunes. Then they shut up and just stood there watching. I like challenges, and I'd say that if we can affect someone who shows no interest in a way that eventually they have no choice but to notice, then we are doing a good job.

Copper Press: Tarentel tours a lot. Isn't that so 1988?

Cantu: We don't tour a lot! We hardly tour at all!

Hughes: We like to travel. We don't like having day jobs. Since when are those two ideas dated?

Copper Press: Was From Bone to Satellite a concept in any sense of the word? Individual songs stand on their own, but the record really comes together when played from start to finish. It engulfs the listener, drawing him or her in and then taking them out. Out there. Was this a goal? Was it identified and recognized by the band as a whole?

Cantu: I think it was a total accident. We really just had these songs, and it was time to make a record so we went in and recorded them. We really didn't even hear it as a whole till well after it was done, and before that we had no idea if it was going to have any consistency whatsoever. And to be honest I don't think it does. I think our more recent efforts have a much greater consistency.

Hughes: I think it was a goal as far as having a body of work that could be played seamlessly from start to finish. A concept record? ...I don't think so.

Copper Press: If it wasn't conceptualized, when did it become apparent there was definitely a thematic or cinematic feel to the record?

Hughes: We have always been fairly aware of the visual value of instrumental music and the pictures it can evoke in people's minds. Seems like that is one of its main charms.

Cantu: It still hasn't felt that way for me.

Copper Press: From Bone to Satellite with its epic qualities has the earmarks of being a spectacular film score, or at least a night of intent stargazing. Any films for which you'd love to have the record play in the back or foreground?

Cantu: The Great Ecstacy of the Sculptor Steiner by Werner Herzog.

Hughes: The Wizard of Oz on the third lion roar.

Copper Press: Why so instrumental? It seems you speak volumes without words. Would lyrics get in the way? Why?

Cantu: I feel lyrics wouldn't get in the way; we've used them before and I could see using them again. It's just that the right song or moment for singing has yet to present itself. We are also allowing for the listener to make up their own story, their own present and history to the music. Not that lyrics or singing necessarily define a mood or story, it just usually works that way. The one song we have used lyrics on, "Song for unborn son" (unreleased), seemed to work because it sounded almost ambient... as opposed to... here are the lyrics... this is what we're saying... yada yada. I'm sure it will happen again. Singing is a powerful thing, and we're not really into saying, "Let's never do this" or "Only do that..." We keep our options open.

Rosenberg: I disagree that we should stay a "vocal-free" band. The human voice is and always will be the most basic instrument, capable of evoking incredible ranges of language. No matter what way it is employed. I think that run-of-the-mill pop vocals are probably inappropriate for Tarentel, but other vocal ideas, with and without words, have been coming up and definitely will appear in our music in the future... (if I have anything to say about it).

Hughes: Lyrics could possibly get in the way of the individual's ability to form their own mental image of the music before them. That is such a beautiful part of the music, each person has the ability to see vastly different things in the same piece music if there is no literal interpretation attached. The minute these things are spoken they disappear! And all the unseen magic is gone...

Copper Press: Do you feel limited by anything in attaining the moods you wish to create?

Rosenberg: I often feel limited by time. And space. We practice in a tiny room and play quite frequently, leaving us not so much time to spread out and let ideas incubate.

Cantu: I feel limited all the time. Sometimes by ability, or lack thereof, sometimes [by] the small space. Sometimes by myself. But, when we're all in that small cramped space, it's the only time when such things fall to the wayside, and nothing really matters. Not limits, not ideas, nothing. Just music.

Copper Press: For each of the members, is music, Tarentel specifically, something done only for fun, or is there something deeper driving the creation of these sounds?

Cantu: This is full-time love for all of us. We hardly ever have fun.