 Call and Response Perhaps someone was blowing too many bubbles and got into a bad rollerskating accident, because the new Call and Response record has a decidedly downtempo vibe … in from the sunshine, inside with the curtains drawn, lying in bed contemplating a whole summer spent in a body cast. CAR's debut stunned me in many ways: first and foremost, because it was (and still is) so perfectly thrilling, chock full of pop hooks and smiley harmonies, tight chops, and booty-shakin' rhythms. It was, finally, an indie pop album that wasn't afraid to sing and dance like we were all on summer vacation together. The album also stunned me, though, because by some terrible fluke of fate, it did not become the biggest album since Thriller. Oh, how much better a place would be this world had we all plugged into CAR's beautiful Walkman® back in 2001. The worst thing that might have happened that year would have been two people on rollerskates holding hands and crashing into the World Trade Center. See, now that would be something totally cute! The debut album was shuffled from Kindercore Records to Emperor Norton following Kindercore's ignominious implosion, but Norton didn't seem to know how to make CAR as appropriately famous as they should be. Why didn't anyone see that CAR is exactly what we all needed? As the Jackson 5 helped us heal in the early-70s, so did CAR offer us that same sparkly magic in the early-00s. I saw the band perform in '02, and they debuted a number of crackin' new songs that built on the sound of the first record, offering hope that they'd certainly come out with a follow-up that would be as good, if not better. And how cute would that be?! Sadly, none of those songs are on Winds Take No Shape, the moody second record that finds CAR again on a new label, but strangely, seeming to have dispensed with their commitment to pure pop-tastic melody and inventive arrangements. Gone are the vibrant colors and imaginary places evoked so deliciously well the first time around. Now, I'm not saying a band needs to keep delivering the same thing, but in this case, I feel a real sense of sadness, 'cause CAR was so on the right track with that first album. Call and Response, years from now, will be rediscovered as a lost pop treasure, like the Millennium's Begin or Lou Christie's Paint America Love. It ought to garner a cult following of indie kids unafraid to cut their Stroke-off haircuts and "pop out" already. The record Winds Take No Shape most reminds me of is Blind by The Sundays – not at all because it sounds like The Sundays, but because it is such an unexpected disappointment. Everything I liked about the first CAR record has been removed from the mix, leaving a low-carb alternative that is palatable enough, but never super tasty. My primary issue with the album is the sudden overshadowing of the rest of the band by vocalist Carrie Clough – WTNS may as well be her solo album. Gone is the consistently surprising variety, tunefulness, and sense of fun that came from what was clearly a collective effort – you never knew who'd be singing lead, and the blend of vocalists and songwriters raised everything to a real blissful place. Now, though, Clough's overly precise and emotionless voice (similar to that of Nina Persson from The Cardigans) is right up front on every song, with everyone else relegated to background harmonies. Clough is great (she sang some of my favorite songs on the debut), but CAR thrives on diversity, and in particular, the subjugated presence of Simone Rubi feels like a real loss. You can hear her, but you're left yearning for her to step up to the mic and belt out a "Nightflight" or "Connection." She seems to have become the Tanya Donelly to Clough's Kristin Hersh … and the result is that I'd rather be listening to Simone's equivalent of Belly. Okay, okay, so perhaps it's not fair to judge an album entirely on how it's not like your favorite other album by the same band. So how is Call and Response's second full-length, on its own merits? Frankly, and it totally pains me to say it, the record might have more aptly been titled Songs Take No Shape. The vague and floaty melodies wisp in and out like a chilly draft through your bedroom window when summer finally turns to fall. At its best, it's sort of like those mid-80s Joni Mitchell albums, or perhaps even late-period Stereolab. But more often, the sound is startlingly similar to early Sarah McLachlan, 10,000 Maniacs, Sixpence None the Richer, or even the justly forgotten Moon Seven Times. There are countless bands doing this kind of thing … why the eminently unconventional CAR? They were the last band I'd ever expect to creep even remotely close to the periphery of the Lilith Fair genre, much less dive right in and sell homemade bracelets there. And I even like the Lilith Fair style, to be totally honest. But the special thing about CAR was that everyone I played it for, regardless of musical orientation, loved it. This one is a much tougher sell, even to myself. I didn't expect to write anything less than a fervently gushing praisefest for this album. It's certainly pleasant, perhaps even subtle and exquisite in its own private way. But for a Call and Response album, it's nothing short of California crashing from space.
Review by La Fée |