It’s been years since we’ve heard from Kyle Woodworth (woodworkings). A 2010 4-disc box set drew a chapter to a close, followed by three years of silence ~ and now this welcome return. Thanks to time, or experience, or wisdom, or a combination of all three, day breaks the morning shapes we speak is a confident comeback that yields signs of growth like new tree rings.
If we sit on floors we stand on chairs (2010) can be considered woodworkings’ spring disc, day breaks the morning shapes we speak is his late autumn and early winter LP: fall on Side A, winter on Side B. The switch to vinyl is perfect for this homespun set, which exudes the warmth of sweaters and hearths. The necessity of rising to turn the record over affords an opportunity to place another log in the fire. One imagines a full cupboard of winter jams, an icebox of cured meat, a crowd of unlaced boots by a drafty door.
The comfort of cellos is apparent throughout the recording, as is the purity of pianos. Calm breaths grace “hands are two week departures”, balancing the light beeps until all sounds are subsumed by a cloud of falling leaves. On “a candy coated october”, the acoustic guitar calls to mind a comfortable armchair, thick patterned socks, a circle of friends, an open bottle of wine. Soft filtered light soaks through the opaque curtains. The trees are not yet skeletons.
Every season contains a day that feels like the first day of that season, regardless of the calendar date. “when west coast winter arrives” marks that day with a frost-like ambient glaze. When one has made preparations for cold, winter arrives as a comfort. One surrenders to the indoor nights, the foraging days. The two-part “we/slept the whole way home” implies the safety of a child comfortably asleep in the back seat, returning from a trip to see family members in a forest cabin. Sleep, sleep, burning bright, dreaming in the joys of night . . . when thy little heart doth wake, then the dreadful night shall break. (Richard Allen)
Release date: 12 December
Closing quote: William Blake, “Cradle Song”