Califone.

YOU'VE GOT YOUR HEADPHONES, microphones and gramophones, but if you don't have Califone, you're missing out on the forerunners of what could be called "free indie." A gooey stew of rock, jazz, blues and folk, the Chicago gang eschews conventional instruments, hard drum beats and traditional song structure in favor of uncontainable, natural sounds. Most surprising of all? None of these guys are in Tortoise.

In fact, Califone sprung from the still-smoldering ashes of Red Red Meat--one of the I-beams of Midwestern indie rock--in the late '90s. The team of singer/guitarist Tim Rutili and percussionist Ben Massarella is also behind Perishable Records, the noted Windy City label that has also put out records by Fruit Bats, Him and Joan of Arc.

Rutili is the eye of this storm, a guy who is surrounded by activity but maintains a tranquil demeanor and expressed hardly any outward emotion. When asked what he's listened to lately, for example, the answer is simple: "Nothing. And enjoying it."

Really? Not even the new Califone album, Quicksand/Cradlesnakes?

"I haven't listened to it since we finished. Just from playing shows, you can tell what stands up and what doesn't, I've been doing this for so long, I try not to listen to old stuff unless I have to."

Of course, that's not to say Rutili is by any means unsatisfied with the new record, which came out in March. Breaking from humble self, he claims he's "getting to be kind of a good songwriter" and that "It feels better now than it ever has. I feel like we should be playing right now. The shows are real fun."

"Fun" wasn't the adjective of choice when Red Red Meat circulated through the Chicago circuit. "Dangerous" or "intoxicated" would have been more like it. Sloppy playing characterized many of the gigs, tossed cups of urine some of them ... as it was, the hand wasn't even well-trained to play many of their songs onstage in the first place.

"We couldn't really play them," Rutili says, "but we're all getting better at what we do. Which is pretty surprising, 'cause I figured 10 years ago that we would be done by now."

He highlights one especially cool recent gig, speaking at length for the first time in the interview: "When we were in Bologna a couple weeks ago, we' were supposed to play this secret club at midnight. At the lest minute, the club said, 'No, you cannot do this here.' So we ended up playing in this house. These people cooked us this big dinner. There were no microphones. I don't think I've ever had a better time playing music. It just seemed that was what it was all about: a bunch of people sitting around, no amplification of the songs, no nothing, it just felt great."

Stretching the band's abilities to new, kinetic extremes, Quicksand/Cradlesnakes proves Califone's continued improvement. Like Can at the top of its game, songs like "Horoscopic. Amputation. Honey" and "(Red)" embark with the sparest of parts but, by their finish, bristle with sounds made from Duct tape coin pianos, fretless banjos and slit gongs.

Indeed, the group has mastered the art of the found instrument. But, unlike many bands out there, it's clear that Califone utilizes unusual tools as a means to further its sound, not just supplement it. Rutili is obsessed by his own resourcefulness, which goes beyond music alone. The album cover has the faded image of fresh-eyed faces captured at a '70s high school prom--another Rutili discovery.

"I go to thrift stores," he says, "and I always find these old high school yearbooks. That picture came out of one of them. I can't wait for those people to surface ... they're probably really, really angry right now." Speaking again at length, he continues: "Not at anything in particular, but I imagine People that liked to look good in high school are really pissed off right now. I just love that picture."