I have a theory about the perfect gift, which is basically this: The perfect gift is something that for the receiver has equal likelihood of being (a) warmly acknowledged then promptly discarded, or (b) cherished forever. And — critical in the process — either reaction is equally fine with the giver.

Perfect gifts are often treasura obscura, the kinds of things you’d find at estate sales or old book dealers. And that’s pretty much what this new Shrimp Boat collection is. The three discs of artifacts and marginalia are of little consequence to the uninitiated…but to the enduring Shrimp Boat fan it’s manna, obsessively and lovingly circumscribed manna, from heaven.

Shrimp Boat was born in 1985, an art school/woodshop collaboration between Ian Schneller, Sam Prekop and David Kroll. Brad Wood joined the ensemble in 1989; Eric Claridge came aboard in 1992. If you were in Chicago in the mid-late 1980s and early ’90s, you may remember these guys at loft parties or art galleries, or best of all the marathon shows at Phyllis’ Musical Inn on Division: cheap cover and cheaper beer.

They self-released some modest, engaging records before being signed by Bar/None, then rose to the occasion with two fine albums, Duende and Cavale. They inhabited a loud-soft, build-to-crescendo dynamic that prefigured the “post-rock” of Tortoise, Gastr Del Sol and their ilk. Shrimp Boat disbanded in 1993 and the principals went on to greater renown elsewhere: Prekop and Claridge in The Sea And Cake, Schneller in Falstaff, Wood as producer for Liz Phair et al.

Shrimp Boat was the arty party band of the quaint bohemian village that was late-’80s Chicago. They were simultaneously playful and cerebral; they played with an openness and sincerity that was uncommon then and is possibly extinct now.

All manner of sounds found their way into the mix: earnest strumming, dance grooves, Harry Smith folk arcana, bop sax, skittering Afro-pop guitar, tape loops, din and chatter, snippets of conversation overheard as the El train roared and clattered over the Busy Bee diner. The range of sounds is mirrored in the range of source material here: earliest-stage four-track demos, proper album outtakes, live radio and venue board tapes, last-stage songs shelved when the group broke up…kinda labyrinthine as career arcs go. Fortunately there’s a 56-page guidebook.

These three records of newly uncovered Shrimp Boat music may hit you and stick, or might miss you entirely. If you have no predilection for it, it’ll skip across the surface of your player like three flat stones (and a fat book). If it is your thing, you’ll be deliriously happy; you’ll watch it settle into your changer and you’ll visit it for days on end, dropping soft petals of remembrance like devotees at the USS Arizona. And either way it’s probably all the same to them.