First, let me state that I personally feel that naming your band Call and Response implicitly binds you to an agreement of including some rousing "You say [blank]!/ I say [blonk]!/ [Blank]!/ [Blonk]!/ [Blank]!/ [Blonk]!" action on your records. The absence of such on their newest album, Winds Take No Shape, is a little disappointing. Please don't tease us, Call and Response. I wouldn't name my band Wicked Bridges and then fail to constantly deliver wicked awesome bridges.
Still, while their name doesn't refer to any crunk motifs in their music, it does aptly describe the shift evident in their newest release. Winds Take No Shape seems to be the response to critics who called for more depth and less of the wide-eyed cuteness rampant on their self-titled debut. Their music is still lighter-than-air, but a newfound strain of wistfulness brings it closer to earth. Rather than presenting a fluffy, glossed-over reality, the songs here dance around the tug of melancholy. And as predictable as it is that "sadness" should be linked to "importance," and "seriousness" with "maturity," this album proves that bias too inherent to ignore-- Winds Take No Shape's relative soberness works to give Call and Response's breezy sound some weight.
Lyrically, the band has turned from their former themes of summertime teenage innocence to late fall, haiku-like imagery-- a move reflected in their transformed sound. The lyrics of Winds Take No Shape continually evoke the revolution of the seasons and resulting impermanence of things, and these themes are embodied in the band's propulsive, syncopated arrangements. The twists and turns of Carrie Clough's melodies, and their interplay with Simone Rubi's backing vocals paint the swirl of fallen leaves caught in the breeze. Intertwined in her phrases is the rhythmic and melodic counterpoint of Daniel Judd's picked guitar, as the drums and bass unpredictably shift the upbeat.
The clearest precursor to Call and Response's current sound is mid-era Stereolab; the similarity of Clough's singing to Laetitia Sadier's goes beyond having the same detached air to include sharing melodic themes, and the propensity to stress awkward syllables. Also present are Stereolab's penchant for mid-song shifts, slightly swinging meters, and avoiding obvious chordal resolutions for surprising major-seventh turns. And yet, Winds Take No Shape seems derived of its own inspiration, and atmospherically seeks something apart from the Lab's sometimes sterile polemics and exotic instrumentation. Call and Response still fall into pop hooks, and the swing can give way at any point to the plodding bass drum of a soft and muted disco chorus.
Though the songwriting here points toward more ornamental possibilities, the arrangements on Winds Take No Shape remain within the standard band format. The tracks are occasionally augmented with a cello or synth line, and elsewhere, keyboard washes and sparsely placed pieces of production add atmosphere. The backing vocals are carefully attended to, with several layers of harmonies present in the excellent "Silent Chill". The band works thoughtfully with what's there, and the album feels inspired in its standard parameters, but fails to completely maintain the momentum it builds. The second half is less focused than the first-- the songwriting on "Landscapes" doesn't meet the standards set elsewhere, and "Station" feels meandering. Still, it closes well with "Silhouette", one of the album's strongest tracks.
The value of a work as album and unimposing as Winds Take No Shape is most easily determined when it's not being played, by the urge one has to visit it again. This work's warm sound and above-average complexity in arrangement have brought me back repeatedly, and future releases will hopefully see them refining their new sound. Call and Response have a lot of promise to fulfill. Including a certain implicit promise made by a certain ambitious band name. Ahem.
