Bill Callahan performed at Cosmic Charlie's in Lexington
Monday December 7, 2009
Photos courtesy of Richie Wireman
Because I’m really not into writing reviews (I may have mentioned this fact before) and because the show was 4 nights ago, because I’ve already posted about his Smogness an inordinate amount of times in the not-so-distant past, and also because it’s coming on midnight and I am not quite on holiday just yet, I’ll keep this brief (famous last words).
Bill Callahan played a mesmerizing show to a crowd of 75 or so at Cosmic Charlie’s in Lexington on Monday, the third show of his tour with two new Drag City acts Neil Morgan and Lights. Unfortunately I walked in during the last minute of Morgan's last song, so I'm not really in a place to discuss his solo set (he also played drums with Callahan during his performance). I take it that he focuses on drums & layered vocals - it sounded pretty interesting and I look forward to checking out his debut album To the Breathing World in the WRFL playbox next week.
Honeymoon Child (Woke on a Whaleheart - 2007)
Bathysphere (Wild Love - 1995)
Wind & the Dove (Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle - 2009)
Distance (Dongs of Sevotion - 2001)
Jim Cain (Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle)
Rococo Zephyr (Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle)
Natural Decline (Rain on Lens - 2001)
Too Many Birds (Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle)
Eid Ma Clack Shaw (Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle)
Rock bottom Riser (A River Ain’t Too Much in Love -2005)
Say Valley Maker (A River Ain’t Too Much in Love)
Pines (A River Ain’t Too Much in Love)
ENCORE:
The Drip (?)
Let me see the Colts
Callahan didn’t have a full band with him, just Morgan on drums and himself alternating guitar and banjo. So a number of songs lacked the string accompaniment of their studio versions, but they didn't suffer. Callahan pretty much had me from the first hook of the first song, “Honeymoon Child” (from the album 2007 Woke on a Whaleheart, the first album in which Callahan dropped his Smog nomenclature and started using his Christian name). As Callahan/Smog fans can see from the set list, he mainly stuck with newer material, from the past three albums. This was fine with me, being an admitted a johnny-come-lately fan. I was never familiar with Smog. My initial Callahan experience came with the Whaleheart track "Diamond Dancer," which was really popular on WRFL a couple years back. While I've grown to appreciate the song now, the repetitive, off-kilter Americana factor really didn’t resonate with me at first. I actually recall being seriously bewildered about the fact that people whose taste I had come to trust and respect kept playing this confounded song (it's a similar sensation that I get when I find out that friends of mine like Vampire Weekend or Steely Dan - an odd, disorienting, where-the-hell-am-i sort of feeling). In fact, Diamond Dancer was so overplayed that I didn't really even give Whaleheart a chance.
But then Callahan went and released Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle earlier this year. And some time over the past eight months I have completely fallen in love with this album. It kind of snuck up on me - it's one of those albums that I primarily listen to when by myself, and then listen to again, and again. Admittedly, it’s really not the type of jam I typically go for, but I can probably chalk that up to the fact that I have found few contemporary songwriters who pull it off in a way that’s half as compelling as Callahan. Strangely, in some ways I felt that the show redeemed the fact that I completely flummoxed the chance to see Leonard Cohen on his most recent tour, which I have been kicking myself over all Fall. But in other ways it made me kick myself even harder, remembering how refreshing, rejuvenating, shows like this can be - stark and stripped down, no frills, relying on the power of poetry and the human voice (P.S. Bill's got one of the best voices around - in a small dark club as well as in the studio).
Throughout the evening, I kept finding myself trying to approach the show as though I had never listened to Callahan before, realizing that even though most of the crowd likely consisted of fans who were much better versed than I (and therefore may have even been disappointed that Callahan didn’t delve deeper into his 13+ album catalog), a number of the people in the crowd probably hadn't. All this really helped me formulate is that Callahan is a powerful, compelling songwriter but in a strange, can't-put-my-finger-on-it kind of way. He may have influenced a generation of lo-fi, experimental singer/songwriters, but he doesn't fit neatly in the categories of "lo-fi" or "experimental," or "Singer/songwriter" for that matter. At any given point, you don't know if he's inside the box or out. And maybe it's because of that that he has the ability to captivate the the 20-something indie-rock fans; the Greek college contingency; middle-aged, goateed men with leather jackets; experimental music enthusiasts; starving poets and amorous girls, and anyone else who stumbles in his path – seemingly without effort. His lyrics are stark but elusive. His songs are romantic with a twinge of underlying sadness. They would be as fitting in the movie Juno as in a David Lynch film. A friend who had never heard Callahan remarked during 'Natural Decline,' his favorite song of the set, that it made him feel like he was in a dive bar in Dallas. The venue manager, who was unfamiliar with Callahan before the show was booked, likened Callahan to David Berman (Silver Jews) and Willie Nelson, and remarked (more than once) that it was the best show the new bar had seen in its few months of existence.
While Callahan's songs would very well be nothing without his voice and deadpan delivery of lyrics, they are about the empty spaces, the withholdings, as much as anything else. Onstage, in those empty spaces, the moments where he's not singing, Callahan comes across as almost shy, out of his element, like he's not completely comfortable with so many eyes honed in on him. This was maybe a bit surprising, given his deep, unwavering voice, but it was somehow refreshing at the same time. At moments, he would dive into certain parts of his songs with a ferocity reminiscent of Will Oldham, shaking his head and walking in place, or kicking his heels together "jaunty like a bee"; but the mood Callahan evoked was overall reserved and stoic, closing his eyes as if channeling something from another place, and at times glancing nervously down at Matt Jordan's camera (where those pictures at, Picasso?).
Bill Callahan played a mesmerizing show to a crowd of 75 or so at Cosmic Charlie’s in Lexington on Monday, the third show of his tour with two new Drag City acts Neil Morgan and Lights. Unfortunately I walked in during the last minute of Morgan's last song, so I'm not really in a place to discuss his solo set (he also played drums with Callahan during his performance). I take it that he focuses on drums & layered vocals - it sounded pretty interesting and I look forward to checking out his debut album To the Breathing World in the WRFL playbox next week.
Lights is an all-female trio originally from New York. During their set, I had their sound nailed as falling somewhere in between Espers, Fleetwood Mac and Jane’s Addiction, with maybe even a spattering of Boris (?). However, a listening of Rites, their newest album, the next day didn’t quite evoke any those metaphors ~ I’m getting more of a Scissor Sisters/Roxy Music vibe now. I can’t find much info on them, but in talking to the drummer, Linnea Vedder, I did find out that she played in Brightblack Morning Light at some point, and also that guitarist/singer Sophia has recently moved to Austin, which seems to potentially call into question their future recording/touring plans. Lights' '80s dance beats and swirling, fuzzed-out guitar riffs seemed a strange complement to Bill’s precise and painstaking songwriting (it's entirely possible, I suppose, that Bill met and took a liking to the talented and attractive Sophia in Austin?). But that didn’t cause me to enjoy their set any less.
Bill Callahan's set list - December 7, 2009
Bill Callahan's set list - December 7, 2009
Honeymoon Child (Woke on a Whaleheart - 2007)
Bathysphere (Wild Love - 1995)
Wind & the Dove (Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle - 2009)
Distance (Dongs of Sevotion - 2001)
Jim Cain (Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle)
Rococo Zephyr (Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle)
Natural Decline (Rain on Lens - 2001)
Too Many Birds (Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle)
Eid Ma Clack Shaw (Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle)
Rock bottom Riser (A River Ain’t Too Much in Love -2005)
Say Valley Maker (A River Ain’t Too Much in Love)
Pines (A River Ain’t Too Much in Love)
ENCORE:
The Drip (?)
Let me see the Colts
Callahan didn’t have a full band with him, just Morgan on drums and himself alternating guitar and banjo. So a number of songs lacked the string accompaniment of their studio versions, but they didn't suffer. Callahan pretty much had me from the first hook of the first song, “Honeymoon Child” (from the album 2007 Woke on a Whaleheart, the first album in which Callahan dropped his Smog nomenclature and started using his Christian name). As Callahan/Smog fans can see from the set list, he mainly stuck with newer material, from the past three albums. This was fine with me, being an admitted a johnny-come-lately fan. I was never familiar with Smog. My initial Callahan experience came with the Whaleheart track "Diamond Dancer," which was really popular on WRFL a couple years back. While I've grown to appreciate the song now, the repetitive, off-kilter Americana factor really didn’t resonate with me at first. I actually recall being seriously bewildered about the fact that people whose taste I had come to trust and respect kept playing this confounded song (it's a similar sensation that I get when I find out that friends of mine like Vampire Weekend or Steely Dan - an odd, disorienting, where-the-hell-am-i sort of feeling). In fact, Diamond Dancer was so overplayed that I didn't really even give Whaleheart a chance.
But then Callahan went and released Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle earlier this year. And some time over the past eight months I have completely fallen in love with this album. It kind of snuck up on me - it's one of those albums that I primarily listen to when by myself, and then listen to again, and again. Admittedly, it’s really not the type of jam I typically go for, but I can probably chalk that up to the fact that I have found few contemporary songwriters who pull it off in a way that’s half as compelling as Callahan. Strangely, in some ways I felt that the show redeemed the fact that I completely flummoxed the chance to see Leonard Cohen on his most recent tour, which I have been kicking myself over all Fall. But in other ways it made me kick myself even harder, remembering how refreshing, rejuvenating, shows like this can be - stark and stripped down, no frills, relying on the power of poetry and the human voice (P.S. Bill's got one of the best voices around - in a small dark club as well as in the studio).
Throughout the evening, I kept finding myself trying to approach the show as though I had never listened to Callahan before, realizing that even though most of the crowd likely consisted of fans who were much better versed than I (and therefore may have even been disappointed that Callahan didn’t delve deeper into his 13+ album catalog), a number of the people in the crowd probably hadn't. All this really helped me formulate is that Callahan is a powerful, compelling songwriter but in a strange, can't-put-my-finger-on-it kind of way. He may have influenced a generation of lo-fi, experimental singer/songwriters, but he doesn't fit neatly in the categories of "lo-fi" or "experimental," or "Singer/songwriter" for that matter. At any given point, you don't know if he's inside the box or out. And maybe it's because of that that he has the ability to captivate the the 20-something indie-rock fans; the Greek college contingency; middle-aged, goateed men with leather jackets; experimental music enthusiasts; starving poets and amorous girls, and anyone else who stumbles in his path – seemingly without effort. His lyrics are stark but elusive. His songs are romantic with a twinge of underlying sadness. They would be as fitting in the movie Juno as in a David Lynch film. A friend who had never heard Callahan remarked during 'Natural Decline,' his favorite song of the set, that it made him feel like he was in a dive bar in Dallas. The venue manager, who was unfamiliar with Callahan before the show was booked, likened Callahan to David Berman (Silver Jews) and Willie Nelson, and remarked (more than once) that it was the best show the new bar had seen in its few months of existence.
While Callahan's songs would very well be nothing without his voice and deadpan delivery of lyrics, they are about the empty spaces, the withholdings, as much as anything else. Onstage, in those empty spaces, the moments where he's not singing, Callahan comes across as almost shy, out of his element, like he's not completely comfortable with so many eyes honed in on him. This was maybe a bit surprising, given his deep, unwavering voice, but it was somehow refreshing at the same time. At moments, he would dive into certain parts of his songs with a ferocity reminiscent of Will Oldham, shaking his head and walking in place, or kicking his heels together "jaunty like a bee"; but the mood Callahan evoked was overall reserved and stoic, closing his eyes as if channeling something from another place, and at times glancing nervously down at Matt Jordan's camera (where those pictures at, Picasso?).
Bill the dapper man Callahan
Photos courtesy of Richie Wireman
Photos courtesy of Richie Wireman
If Callahan is coming to a venue near you, go see him. I don't care what kind of music you're into.
i apologize in advance for the silly technical correction, but callahan was not playing a banjo -- he was playing a guitjo. great review for a great show :)
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