BRISE-GLACE

TORTOISE

If you’re following closely, you’ll find repeated references to dub reggae in reviews of both When in Vanitas . . . and Tortoise. Surface characteristics do give the two records a dub veneer: unorthodox mixing, curious sounds, phase shifting, deep-in-the-pocket grooves, denaturalized echo, sudden ruptures in pulse/background relationships, and an overall sense of studio artifice. When Tortoise performed live at HotHouse in August, they played dub during the break, confirming the Jamaican influence. And some of the engineering techniques on both discs were first attempted decades back on dub plates.

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But at a fundamental level the debut CDs by two of Chicago’s premier instrumental ensembles are not dub at all. Dub reggae is deconstructionist; Tortoise and Brise-Glace are constructionist. In the late 60s, innovative studio electrician King Tubby (aka Osbourne Ruddock) began to take existing reggae recordings, strip them of their vocals, and perform open-reel surgery on them. He added echo and sound effects, rearranged the bass-treble balance, sometimes dropped the drums or bass or keyboards or guitars for a few bars, grafted little nonsensical vocal prunings back into the mix, and basically created something brand-new out of the vivisected carcass of the original song. Dub Gone Crazy collects primo material recorded from 1975 to ’79 at Tubby’s studio and mixed by Tubby, Prince Jammy, Prince Phillip, and Scientist; it was compiled by reggae’s most expert curator, Steve Barrow, who put together some of the British label Trojan’s best collections.

Dub is primarily the studio art of audio mixology, but Tortoise have a lot of straight performance verve going for them–indeed, that’s what makes ’em a treat live. What should be interesting is to hear what happens when Tortoise get the real dub treatment, since their next release is slated to be a different version of Tortoise, remixed by Steve Albini, Rick Brown, Bundy K. Brown, John McEntire, Casey Rice, and Jim O’Rourke. Even if these producers recast the music in a way that sounds nothing like dub, as is likely, underlying the project is a refusal to accept a definitive or “final” version. That’s the deconstructionist art of recycling, reusing, and reconfiguring. The dub credo.