It's usually easy to anticipate a band's next move after three albums. But when the Sea and Cake released The Fawn last year, many fans were looking left as the band dodged right. The group, known for its beautifully abstract guitar-pop stylings, suddenly went ambient-experimental -- with surprisingly brilliant results. But now, with drummer/producer John McEntire busy with other projects and currently touring with his other band Tortoise in Europe, the Sea and Cake's apparent one-record-per-year habit appears to be in jeopardy.

Fortunately for those TSAC fans in dire need of new tunes and dreamy vibes, frontman Sam Prekop served up a rare two-set offering of material at this tiny Lower East Side club. In fact, Tonic seems to be a tangible representation of TSAC itself -- intimate, sparse, stark and unassuming. Prekop, armed only with an electric guitar, an unmiked amp, and the occasional pre-recorded ambient track, whispered his way through a treasure trove of both new and old songs to the delight of a rapt audience.

Prekop's delivery is so low-key, he might as well be playing in your living room. His trademark falsetto is as effective as ever, though his enunciation is still shaky. Of course, with TSAC, words matter little from the standpoint of meaning; Prekop's vocals, while mumbled, still managed to convey more just in terms of pure sound than most singers can muster in their best moments of clarity. And the music, it's a sound to fall in love to, a fact illuminated by the couple-heavy audience.

Most of the new material sounded like Nassau-era TSAC -- quirky, but still rooted in pop's architecture -- but Prekop did jam along with some pre-recorded material that was straight-up Fawn/Tortoise electric soundscape. (He even went so far as to call one of them a "disco tune".) But while the audience were studiously listening to the new material, they responded most audibly to the classic songs, like "Parasol" and "Jacking the Ball," loosening up a bit to mumble along. And that, in this usually reserved realm, was a poignant moment indeed.

JEREMY VOSS
(November 6, 1998)