2001's Scavengers marked Calla's departure from the amorphous reaches of their debut, and they've been driving steadily songward ever since. Once the sublimation of their old tendencies toward hiss manipulation and feedback resulted in such a startling transformation as "Fear of Fireflies", there was no turning back, and why should there have been? Scavengers was a clear demonstration that their talents lay elsewhere: In the crafting of radiant slow-motion scenes, miniature dramas playing out behind rain-slicked windowpanes. Televise carries them even farther down the same lonely streets, under the same gray skies; they rarely deviate from form, keeping closer to traditional song structures than ever before. It's often a beautiful ride, but it's also a long one. You might want to bring something to read, just in case.
The record peaks early, with the unrivaled rush of "Strangler", infusing their delicate slowcore antics with a compelling hint of aggression. Caustic bass and guitar interplay seethes at its heart, only barely restrained by the muddled resignation of Aurelio Valle's whispers. Despite the underlying tension, it doesn't stray far from Calla's comfortably faded aesthetic, and even brings to mind some of the simple glory of Scavengers' "Fireflies". As with their previous album, they score big on the opener, but the beginning is somewhat misleading; the tension subsides before long, leaving hollow subtlety in its stead.
Televise settles down almost immediately after "Strangler"; "Monument" still shows traces of the first track's unresolved anger, but by "Astral", it has dissipated entirely. A numbing chill sets in as the gloomy, weathered beauty of this album begins to come to the fore. Valle's voice chokes and cracks breathlessly just above the mix; cymbal washes slowly tranquilize the listener. This is undeniably what Calla does best, but to a certain extent, the neural anesthesia becomes stultifying. From a certain vantage this isn't a problem-- each track is dutifully calming, a simple matter of getting lost in the fog-- but these lush arrangements seem content to simply drift by, never truly engaging the listener, and making it difficult to fully appreciate the album if you aren't in the mood to be put under.
They do eventually call it quits on the hypnotist act, late in the album. The sly grooves of "Televised" break stride as aggressive drum patterns keep pace with a stutter-stepping bassline. It recaptures some of the frustration embodied in the opener, undercut by a single, desperate guitar refrain rattling around somewhere in the depths. The disc then closes with "Surface Scratch", a gloriously shaky bit of piano minimalism that owes more than a nod to Howe Gelb's finer empty-air desert wanderings. Together, these unique pieces are an impressive reward after clearing the cobwebs and surfacing from the recesses of the album's languorous middle works. It's truly a grand finale, but Televise could have used a mild shot in the arm a bit sooner.
