When I participated in my high school band class-- perhaps the very essence of geekdom-- I at least had the foresight to pick up percussion. However, many were not so fortunate as to choose such a universally applicable musical talent. A lot of nice horns have collected dust in closets since the senior year football season. Short of the punk-ska explosion, there just haven't been a lot of opportunities for brass to feel hip, and even less for tuba.

The existence of an outfit like Drums & Tuba was pretty much inevitable, but that doesn't mean we can't appreciate it for what it is. Endlessly agile drummer Anthony Nozero is a perfect foil for the inherent limitations of Brian Wolff's tuba. The unbilled component of the trio, guitarist Neal McKeeby, rounds out a spare but potent combination of instruments.

Unusual instrumental configurations have a lot to go up against in the way of being assessed as novelty. Rock bands have long carried on a love affair with exotic textures, dropping in unexpected instruments here and there. But to have a tuba on every song goes far past such flirting. Putting it on the level with a bass guitar smacks of the kind of suicidal dedication I wish I heard more of.

It may be relatively light listening in the context of other contemporary instrumental acts, but not by design. The presence of a tuba just lends a jovial air to the proceedings that makes it fun to listen to in a way that dynamic post-punk almost never is. But if Wolff was rocking the same lines on a four-string, that's exactly how his band would be categorized. So is that what it is? Eh, I don't care, either.

Box Fetish is Drums & Tuba's 1996 debut full-length, reissued by their current label, My Pal God Records. The three newly recorded bonus tracks show that in the years since, the band has become progressively stranger in an effort to keep things interesting within the confines of their old, rickety instruments. Though it's hard to tell from where these guys might draw their inspiration, you could make a case for a creeping influence of ambient techno, post-rock, or avant-noise. And while these new directions don't really fall in too well with the rest of the original album, it provides an interesting contrast and shows that even in '96, these guys were still far from exhausting the possibilities.

Goofy, arbitrary song titles like "Does It Suck to Be You" and "Adventures of Poo-Poo and Pee-Pee" don't bode well for the content. But that's almost to be expected of instrumental acts. What matters is whether that content rocks, and rock it does-- the lean, minimalist sound allows for tight grooves. There's a fair share of rhythmically complex numbers that can only be afforded by a small group forced to push past the obvious and the instinctual. There are even some longer compositions that reveal melodic ambition.

Without a songwriting framework to build around, and no set rulebook of instrumental roles to follow, Drums & Tuba seem intent on taking their shtick to its utmost limits. Every option must be examined. Nozero attacks his entire kit down to the rims without resorting to showboating. Wolff blows his double b-flat with as much variation as possible. McKeeby reminds us that one-guitar bands can still indulge in dreamy distortion pedal atmospherics, but also picks sharp riffs and holds down bassline-type parts over the course of the album.

The more you listen, though (and you will-- it's strangely addictive), the more it gains its own internal logic. Any conscious attempt by a band like this to resemble a rigid genre of any kind would produce laughably underwhelming results. So the three players set off in fairly random directions, and the flashes of familiarity feel like accidents. Occasionally, the jagged, cartoonish arrangements bring to mind mid-period Tom Waits. But mostly, Drums & Tuba exist in the gray areas reserved for free-jazz and other "challenging" music, except that it's affably playful and never pretentious.

-Al Shipley