Customer Reviews

Doctor Came at Dawn

5 star:		(4)
4 star:		(3)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

Back in the day when Smog gathered clutter and clash in JULIUS CAESAR, not only would I never suspect the beauty and sound of DOCTOR CAME AT DAWN, but even when first listening to it, did I ever suspect that this would wind up one of my favorites of all time. One of the saddest epics, if not THE, of the 90s, DOCTOR walks around thoroughly modern scenes of loss and desolation. Anyone who has ever experienced the mating ritual of the 90s, you get together and because you both can't make rent on a nice place alone, you shack up, and not long after, it all falls apart. You will find a friend in this album. Starting with this theme in the opening track, YOU MOVED IN, Smog looks at the world through different pairs of the saddest eyes but never wallows in the dirt. I don't think Smog has done anything close to this since. Others disagree and wave off this album as too depressing, more into the last couple of records (the mediocre RED APPLE FALLS and KNOCK KNOCK) but to me, those albums reminds me of many singer/songwriters coming out in the late 60s and 70s. Once you get into the mid-70s, these singers who had such great songs and simple productions on their early albums, start to try and do different things with each song on their later records and forget that they are making an album (ALBUM--like collection). That lap steel on the recent ventures, for instance, what is that? Cash in on the Palace/alterna-country thang? DOCTOR is simply perfect and one of the best that the 90s had to offer--saying alot as it was a great decade for music--as usual. Moments created in SPREAD YOUR BLOODY WINGS and CARMELITE LIGHT are so unique sound and lyric-wise. SPREAD YOUR BLOODY WINGS is like a surrealist poem! And I'm not saying that lightly! To sum it up, Smog captures the stupidity and sadness of 20-something youth in the 90s.

Bill Callahan has created a masterpiece that is really beyond words. All I can say is that if you've recently had your heart torn out and stepped on with a pair of soccer cleats, THIS is the album for you. Tenderness and nostalgia, bitterness and despair, Doctor Came At Dawn is frighteningly accurate in its depiction of a breakup you can only relate to. Be prepared to reach for the Kleenex... Smog you're a genius.

I will agree that Luke's review is ridiculous. BUT... this album is not quite as great as everyone says. Bill Callahan's guitar is always out of tune (this is especially apparent with doubled guitar passages), and all of the playing is very sloppy. It's almost as if Callahan is making up the music as he goes along, and is unsure of what note he's going to play until it's too late. This doesn't hurt all of the tracks, though. It gives a few of them the feeling of floating in and out of water (if you happen to be looking at the album cover while listening).
Those complaints aside, the songs on this CD are mostly very good. Callahan's simple, repetive, dark, and melancholy chord changes provide a perfect backing to his droning baritone voice. The lyrics are equally as dark and melancholy, and seem quite mysterious as well. It's as if they paint pictures of emotions (mainly sadness) rather than dealing with them in any direct sense. Most of the time, you don't really know what Callahan is talking about, but you feel his emotions.
"Doctor Came At Dawn" is Smog's darkest release to date. Highlights include "You Moved In", "Spread Your Bloody Wings", and "All Your Women Things". Personally, I prefer Callahan's partner Cindy Dall, Mark Eitzel, Ida, Red House Painters, Idaho, or Dakota Suite over Smog in the sadcore genre. But if you are a fan of lo-fi sadcore, this is still good stuff.

maybe this is a record for occations when you have been deserted. and maybe it happens a lot. then this record will suit you well. but don't get me wrong, it's not a depressing record. it's about distance and loss, the sadness is in you!

Simply stated, this is an excellent and consistant album, and is my favortie Smog release. When I first bought it, I just listened to it over and over. It isn't complex, and it isn't ground-breaking, but it has an almost indescribable uniqueness. "All Your Women Things" is one of the best tracks, as is the opening track. Enjoy.

A very depressing but beautiful album.

well first of all. this cd is a great, and powerful cd. in the review from Luke (which helped 5 out of 20 people) i think that some one who dosen't listen to smog should just keep their mouth shut. i guess all of the college drinking and smoking "dope" made all of the good taste pour itself from the pores of his skin only to be left behind on some cold and unused sidewalk. where it was left dying, but i don't think that it matters since apparently he didn't use it before. anyway in this cd you can hear (smog) coming to form. i can just read the lyrics to myself and hear the music, and think grace is the sound from which bill touches

I happened upon this amazing collection of lo-fi, rambling, self-obsessed navel-gazing, pseudo-prose because I happen to like Vic Chesnutt and the amazingly perceptive computer at amazon thought I might like Smog.

First of all, lets talk about Vic Chesnutt. He has an "incomplete" spinal cord injury which means he has partial use of his hands. He uses a wheelchair and glues a pick to a glove so he can strum his guitar. From what I understand, he may also be an alcoholic and has frequent bouts of depression. Despite all that, it is an insult to the beautifully crafted songs that he has created to compare Billy Callahan's (Smog) hack approach with the effort and artistry that has come out of Vic Chesnutt in the past ten years or so. I had kind of drifted away from his music when he happened to come to the part of the country that I live in - he was opening for Wilco - and the effort he put in to convey his (somewhat depressing and twisted) music was clearly evident in everything - the carefully crafted lyrics, the passion in his voice, and the simple acoustic guitar music. (Wilco, on the other hand, tried a bit too hard and the crowd started calling for the "little parapalegic" to come back out part way through the show.)

To round out the point, Smog reminds me of a lot of my friends (and maybe myself), in college, at parties, after drinking too much and smoking some dope, trying to impress some girl with just how artistic, tortured and alternative they were:

"...look, I'm so different I sing with my head on the edge of the couch and mumble so you can't hear me, my words don't make sense, and I'm just picking the guitar chords with my thumb"

It was fun. It got us dates...with dumb girls who didn't know crap from something that someone has actually worked on. We didn't get record deals. We didn't get our albums sold on Amazon. We didn't try, we eventually grew up, and developed a bit of respect for the art of music. Billy Callahan/Smog should too.

Luke