For the last decade, like clockwork, singer/songwriter Bill "Smog" Callahan has released a new studio record every two years. Over the decade prior to that he released, on average, about one studio record per year. Now quite deep into his run, the still-young 44 year old musician has issued one of his most complete works yet, the seven-song, 40-minute Apocalypse, his first batch of new songs since 2009's excellent Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle. It's mature, fully realized and unique records like this that make artists like Callahan shine above others as a true man of his time.
As you'd expect by now, the dark humor, startling wit and jaw-dropping poetic grace is all once again present, adding to the argument that Callahan (along with, in this writer's opinion, Will Oldham and the late Elliott Smith) is one of the three or four best songwriters of his time. And when I say songwriters, I'm mostly talking about lyrics here, as many of Callahan's songs, when simply put on paper and studied, read through as well as anyone ever - Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Townes Van Zandt, John Lennon, etc. Like Oldham, Callahan is fairly weird dude hidden inside the guise of a dusty Southern throwback. His fatherly voice holding his eccentric songs together like duct tape, falling out of your speakers like the voice of some humble, riddle-teasing God. The voice of a seemingly introverted man, living deep in his own head, spilling bits and pieces of American life that take weeks - sometimes years - to decode. Sojourner cuts, I call 'em.
As always, the voice is deep and sprinkled with a kind of nuanced emotion that can at times really pack a punch. The arrangements here remind more of Smog's Supper than Callahan's other two studio records under his birth name, the rhythmic Woke On a Whaleheart and the downtempo Americana-ish Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle. The vibes change from one track to the next, never quite doing what you think they should upon first review, taking strange turns and utilizing some surprising sounds, such as a flute. As always (save for maybe on the straightly played Woke, a record I dearly love), Callahan's writing structure follows its own rules, changing tempos suddenly, twisting, then breathing down your neck as if Callahan is ready to stare you in your eyes. It all works quite well, though I could see new listeners finding their way to confusion at first.
Opener "Drover" starts things off strong, standing as one of the more accessible selections, driven by an odd mix of composed feedback and fiddle, nearly falling mute at the three-minute mark before building back up to an epic ending. And, I suppose, the word "epic" is fitting for this record, as all but one of the seven songs here pushes the six minute mark, closer "One Fine Morning" clocking in at almost nine minutes. Lead single (if that's what you want to call it) "Baby's Breath" is one of Callahan's cleverest compositions in years - maybe ever. To a casual listener the cut would feel simple, almost minimalist; listen closely and the details rise to the top - loads of them, all as unlikely as the last. All doing their part to support Callahan's abstract writing through a very efficient brand of construction.
Aside from the somewhat jazzy "Free," the only short song on Apocalypse, each song here feels like something of a stand alone work, as if Callahan approached these recordings one at a time, putting weeks - maybe months - of thought and tinkering into each one until he had a wholly unique composition. And, seeing as how this record was produced by Callahan himself, that very well might be the case. The result, to be frank, is strange. Strange and intensely focused. I'd even go as far as to guess that some folks - even longtime fans - might find Apocalypse to be a frustrating listen at first. Just hang in there; listen to the album a song at a time - get to know all the details and turns, ponder the words. Do that, and eventually, I promise, this one-of-a-kind record will fall together for you. Apocalypse may not be as accessible or repeat-worthy as Callahan's last few records, but it just might be his most accomplished work to date.
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