Album Review

Bill Callahan is probably best known for his previous project, Smog, but lately he’s just been releasing solo albums under his own moniker. Maybe he’s trying to keep it simple or maybe he thinks more people are likely to grab an LP out of the “C” as opposed to the “S” bin. We may never know.

What we do know is that Callahan’s recordings are often defined by his deep baritone, primarily monotone, voice. His vocals are not too far removed from what you would hear on an album by the likes of the Silver Jews or the Mountain Goats. Of course, even though these bands are defined by their vocalist, they are flavored by their musicians. So in this respect Callahan may fall closest in line with the, as of late, polished country sound of the Silver Jews. Another sonic sibling would have to be Lambchop, the Merge Records mainstay lead by the prolific Kurt Wagner.

I’m sure people like Callahan hate being referred to as “Alt-Country” but really, what else is there to call this type of music? Americana? Nah, that’s even worse. Of course Callahan’s version of alt-country is a far cry from the likes of early Wilco, Uncle Tupelo, or Ryan Adams. In short, it is actually “alternative.”

What sets Callahan’s music, including the fare on his latest record, Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle, apart from the masses is the vocals. The fact that Callahan cannot sing well is what actually makes him interesting. If you fall in line with the Dave Berman consensus that “All my favorite singers couldn’t sing” you will probably find a lot to love on this record.

As for the instrumentation, it is skillful, but only on a track such as “My Friend” does it come anywhere close to giving the vocals a run for their money. And it is no coincidence that this also turns out to be the strongest track on the album. Most likely because it actually builds some momentum throughout it’s five minute duration. It begins as a plaintive hand-picked acoustic guitar and vocals intro, which slowly picks up speed with the addition of drums, and most notably, strings. A large credit has to be given to arranger Brian Beattie on this one, who could arguably be considered the Steven Drozd to Callahan’s Wayne Coyne on this outing.

Whether or not the rest of the album really works for you will depend highly upon how much of this guy’s voice you can really take. For me, it was about halfway through the album when all the performances began to blend together in a rather monotonous way. I’m sure this would hit some people after one or two songs, while others could listen to the entire work all the way through and not declare any of the songs to sound “samey.”

The one aspect of this album that did grate on me after a while is the over-use of a vintage car-horn as a sound-effect on numerous songs. It was kinda cool in the album opener, “Jim Cain,” but when it keeps popping up throughout the disc, it just starts to feel like a gimmick. Not only is it a strange, jarring sound, but it’s mixed so loud that it has the same affect that an actual car horn going off in your ear would have. It knocks you out of your comfort zone while you are enjoying these tranquil tunes.

So, overall, this is not my favorite cup of tea, but it is a bag I like to drop into the hot water when the time is right. Think relaxing on your porch in a rocking chair, catching a sweet evening sunset, as opposed to the soundtrack for a night of UFC pay per view. Yeah, it’s kinda indie rock for old people, but old people need some alternatives as well.

No Comments »