Seattle trio Talbot Tagora named themselves after a defunct European
car that commercially tanked in 1981, but one gets the impression that
their choice was more about the sound of the words than any
pathos that accrues around a failed consumer product. Say “Talbot
Tagora” and feel the kinetic energy that surrounds it, the
alliteration and hard consonants, and then that sensual trailing off to
“ora.” The moniker appears at once utilitarian and exotic, much like
Talbot Tagora’s music.
The group’s members—Ani Ricci (drums), Chris Ando (guitar,
vocals), and Mark Greshowak (guitar, bass, vocals)—are still in
their late teens/early 20s. But their sound—all tense
atmospheres, scathing yet tuneful guitars, declamatory vocals, concise
durations—harks back to an era before they were born,
specifically the post-punk and no-wave movements (including Sonic
Youth’s earliest phase) that flourished around the time their
automotive namesake was floundering.
“We are fans of bands that fit under that timeline,” Ando says by
e-mail while Talbot Tagora are on tour with Abe Vigoda. “So it probably
subliminally bleeds into our songwriting. It’s not intentional. We’re
interested in that era because it seemed that a lot of those bands had
political purpose behind their art. A lot of art inspires us,
though—atmospheres, too.”
Inspirations aside, Talbot Tagora’s onstage demeanor is
unprepossessing, but their songs flame out of their introverted selves
with a flamboyant intensity. The few times that I’ve seen them live,
they’ve delivered a scrappy racket that seemed simultaneously coiled
and chaotic. Their music felt inchoate, but you could sense something
special brewing beneath the tentative spatter and din. Ricci seemed to
be playing in a different universe than Ando and Greshowak, yet what
initially struck one as incongruously intricate beats managed to
enhance the guitar (the hectoring voice of brash assertiveness) and the
bass (the usually mellifluous voice of reason) parts.
Ricci often keeps very strange time compared to most rock drummers.
This adds a crucial friction to the songs and keeps the sound fresh.
Most drummers strive to maintain some kind of order, but Ricci’s role
seems to be to instigate more chaos and confusion, although she refutes
that view.
Clearly, Talbot Tagora favor instincts over analysis, and while that
makes for vaguely unsatisfying responses in interviews, if the result
is the excellent music found on the band’s self-produced debut
full-length for Hardly Art, Lessons in the Woods or a City, then
it’s a fair trade-off. The 14 tracks come off as spontaneous
combustions of the mind, which are then somehow reined in to tightly
wound IEDs. It’s a fruitful combo of freedom and finesse that results
in perhaps the most exciting Seattle rock album of 2009.
But will it resonate beyond their mainly underground-music fan
base? Tough to say. Most Talbot Tagora songs don’t have traditional
choruses, their oblique lyrics elude easy comprehension, their guitar
tunings are unconventional, and their sound lacks the sort of clarity
that lures mainstream ears. That being said, a tension exists in their
music between catchy melodies—especially in “Perception Stick,”
“Ichthus Hop,” and “Mixed Signals Through Miles of
Pilgrimage”—and abrasive textures and tricky rhythms. The
struggle to hear these sweet tunes only serves to enhance them. All of
these elements form a conscious strategy to shrug off typical rock-song
structures… sort of.
“We’re not really trying to rebel or anything,” Ando offers. “We
kind of broke away from the ‘typical’ rock barriers before we even
started this band—but at the same time we didn’t… a lot of our
music has typical rock-band structure.
“The mainstream way of music/art/whatever is starting to disappear
though the internet… the new radio,” he continues. “It’s sort of like
an ocean (instead of a mainstream). A lot of the kids who are being
born in this age probably won’t have the same perspective on
‘mainstream’ or pop music that we or you had growing up only being able
to listen to what was on the radio and not being able to buy ‘Parental
Advisory’ stickered CDs/cassette tapes.
“As for the tension in our music, it might be caused from the way we
work off of each other. So in a way, that’s both intentional and
unintentional because we have a conscious choice of what notes or
patterns to play but don’t have a choice of what the other member wants
to play.”
While Ando says the current tour has been going well—despite
their van breaking down on the first day and having their stereo stolen
from it—Talbot Tagora will go on hiatus later this year.
Greshowak and Ando plan to live for a while in L.A. and New Mexico,
respectively.
“We’ll all continue to make art/music/things in other forms,” Ando
reassures. “We don’t plan on breaking up or anything; we’ll be playing
shows when we’re in town and all. Those are our current plans, but who
knows what will pop up?” 
