Dexter Reid, Devil in the Woods 2.1, Spring 2000

"Out of the Void"

Tarentel have been thinking a lot lately about the impossible physics of the infinite. Oh, and they've also recorded a brilliant LP, From Bone To Satellite, which reveals influences as disparate as Miles Davis and Radiohead. Dexter Reid recently had a nice chat with three-fifths of the band and found out what they really think of Mogwai.

Innsular, constantly evolving, allergic to self-definition, and seemingly oblivious to the outside world -this is Tarentel, a five-piece instrumental group from San Francisco. They formed sometime in 1996, most of them live together in one house in San Francisco's Mission District, and their records are released by Baltimore label The Temporary Residence. A strong bond has developed between the band and the label, culminating recently with the release of Tarentel's first full-length album last December, the beautifully-crafted and smooth-cornered From Bone To Satellite. It's surprisingly accessible for a record consisting of five long instrumental pieces. From the opening notes you're in familiar territory: post-Syd Barrett Pink Floyd, Eno's ambient records, repetition of Can, the skewered, rattling melodies of Radiohead...but it's definitely Tarentel's noise. It's an original, and they're crossing against the light several blocks ahead of the competition.

The band currently consists of Jefre Cantu on guitar, Daniel Grodinski on guitars, drummer John Hughes, Trevor Montgomery on guitar and bass and Jeff Rosenberg on laptop and bass. No member of Tarentel is confined to any one instrument, and neither is any former member ever really replaced. Some people have left, others have joined, but the band goes on. The overall impression is that if the lineup feels right, it is right. How the internal chemistry of the band works is anybody's guess – though far from tongue-tied, an interview with Cantu, Grodinski and a towering Montgomery (possibly the tallest working musician in San Francisco) reveals a secretive band with a wall around their inner workings. Pressed for influences, they offer a bewildering array of names, from the familiar (Miles Davis, both Coltranes, Radiohead) to obscurantists such as Zoviet France or This Heat. Questions about possible peers are waved away, not in arrogance but more out of confusion – it's not a question they've really considered. A visibly pained Grodinski looks to Cantu for an answer.

"I don't think we have anything to do with other bands," states Cantu, impatiently. "I don't think we have anything to do with anybody at all."

Mention of Mogwai and godspeed you black emperor! is met with relatively blank stares. Tarentel don't feel they're competing; they're genuinely not interested in that. To be polite, Montgomery waves away Mogwai.

"Just...derivative," he drawls, tiredly.

No joy here, time to move on. There's the Kubrick-inspired album title and the sleeve is a nightlit San Francisco dwarfed by the blackness of space above it. Song titles include "Ursa Minor, Ursa Major" and "For Carl Sagan." Space anyone?

More pained glances are exchanged. Montgomery tries his best.

"There was definitely a time in rehearsal where we always seemed to be discussing those ideas, like space, black holes, the universe..."

The impossible physics of the infinite?

"Yeah!" exclaims Montgomery. "And I guess it just came out."

"It wasn't intentional," says Cantu, who is responsible for the titles. "It just happened that way."

So it's not a deliberate theme?

"Not deliberate, no," he continues. "It just happened. We didn't all sit down and decide there was going to be a theme. When I was titling the songs I didn't realize they were all sort of connected."

All three agree that their collective understanding of and fascination with the topic comes to rest on a question of spirituality. Trying to understand such vastness is one thing, but trying to communicate their sense of wonder and helplessness through music is another. With Tarentel, it's not so much the raised-on-TV idea that "Space is the Place," but a harder to define, more spiritual "Space is...Otherness."

The closer they get to a definition, the further away they feel. Their barely-contained enthusiasm for new music and ideas, as well as their collective mania for doing things their own way, reveal a band less hung up on being perceived as artists, but a group whose goal seems to be doing everything in an artistic way, 24 hours a day, in the shadow of Syd Barrett, a hero of the band. This is less contrived than it sounds because only two of the members have art school backgrounds. Eating, sleeping and breathing art is a tough business – it accounts for the band's penury-ridden state, but it also accounts for the records they've made (they released three EPs before From Bone To Satellite) and their rapid progress and development. Day jobs should not be overlooked either. Cantu and Grodinski work in thirft clothing stores, while Montgomery works in the produce department of an organic food store.

"He really likes his job," says Cantu, laughing.

"It's true," agrees Montgomery sleepily. "I was up for a promotion the other day but..."

He grimaces.

"I had to turn it down – I have to be ready to drop everything to go on a tour."

This is a point shared by all five members of Tarentel. In a city overrun by musicians willing only to tour when their careers allow, Tarentel are old-school. Following the completion of the record a year ago in February, they toured with Windsor For The Derby, and that summer undertook a four-week trek of their own. Typically, it was the distances between shows and the differing landscapes they remember most about the tour.

"Just sitting in the back of the van..." says Grodinski. "That was everything. Watching the sun go up or down. That affects you more than music sometimes."

Though loathe to speculate about the future, Cantu was clearly appalled by the loudness of the bands he saw on tour, and offers that he's heading towards folk music.

"Just for some relief!" he laughs.

Is the future instrumental? Another round of cagey glances.

"With lyrics you tend to focus on the singer's themes," answers Cantu eventually. "Which is fine, but it's not right for us."

He thinks for a minute.

"Though we have a new song where Trevor sings a line. One line."