Crank the reverb, slap some fresh duct tape on the Jazzmaster, guzzle a few downers, and hit the studio; when the dust settles and the ennui fades, you're bound to have hooked a few critics. So you can be forgiven for thinking Calla's fourth effort, , feels like a contrite set of Cliffs Notes on the drowsier end of today's indie rock. In some moments, the dense, layered guitars and crystalline bass tones gesture toward the soundscapades of Texans Lift to Experience and Explosions in the Sky and the New York-Boston cabal of groups like Codeine and Longwave. At other points, however-- such as rich but austere opener "It Dawned On Me"-- there are hints of the more acerbic songcraft of the Wrens or earlier Death Cab.