Before tonight, I’ve seen Bill Callahan play twice. The first time he walked off stage mid-set having objected to some ill-judged heckling about his then beau Joanna Newsom. The second time, he reduced a woman I was with to tears simply by singing about young horses and gambling. What a power.
WORDS: STEPHEN PIETRZYKOWSKI
Because of these experiences, my opinion of the man has always amounted to two things: Bill Callahan is not to be fucked with and Bill Callahan will fuck with you. For the last 20 years, he’s often appeared at ease pushing the cunt into alt. country. Tonight seems a little different.
Playing the first of a two-night residency at the Union Chapel, the man formerly known as Smog is promoting his latest album Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle, which rumours suggest is a documentation of his split with Newsom. I’m expecting it to be a Dark Night Of The Soul type experience, particularly as we’re in a church.
And the chapel is a fitting location, as the amassed fan congregation display a religious reverence so devout they laugh every time he opens his mouth or tries to fix a mic stand, just like idiots watching Orange adverts. It’s as embarrassing as those people who buy a band T shirt at a show and then immediately wear it. The try-hard laughter makes me cringe and want to firebomb the lot of them, something the Callahan of old would probably appreciate. At least they like something good.
Such cult worship inevitably means the gig is sold out, the seated venue heaving on a Wednesday night so balmy I want to hook Evian bottles to my veins. The half of the crowd sporting thick facial hair must be evaporating under their wild manes. But while a good proportion of Callahan’s audience are soft-bodied bearded men, it’s the other half that have always fascinated me.
For a heartbreaker as renowned as Callahan, it’s hardly surprising that he attracts more than a smattering of female attention. Standing stock still in the middle of the stage with the odd Elvis-esque groin thrust, I understand the devotion. Dressed in Cape Cod nautical attire, he’s clean cut like a young Beach Boy, his own recently grown beard now shaven. When he opens his mouth and that baritone voice glides into the ancient rafters, you can hear a few hundred gentle female sighs and a few hundred more men kicking themselves for bringing girlfriends to watch a better looking more talented man play at being a more talented better looking Lothario. Some times, it’s not even worth competing.
He’s the alt.rock Leonard Cohen, with all the promiscuity, poetry and peril that suggests. The only thing is, now his famed darkness appears to have lifted; the smog, as it were, has cleared in more ways than one (I should probably apologise for that pun).
Whereas once Callahan seemed antagonistic playing at the deadpan misanthrope, tonight he’s mellow, playful and visibly appreciative of his fans. Heathen! I want him to be a bastard and hate us all, but he keeps acting nice. Most of the set is taken from his last three albums, leaving behind the dark and bloody records that gripped me in the first place. On those records he did want to fuck with the audience. Now he seems so content and relaxed, standing in a post-coital afterglow, admiring his work, letting things be. Sure it’s still great, but I’m a selfish fanboy still fascinated with his early work. To paraphrase the man himself, I like to get off on the pornography of his past. It seems a lot of the women here would like to be part of that past too.
But the thawing of his ice cold demeanour is not yet quite complete. In preparation of the gig, I also managed to speak with him briefly over email. And when I say briefly, I mean hardly at all. He may not hate the crowd at the Union Chapel, but he sure hates having to explain himself. I guess the ladies always love a mystery man.
Hello Bill, how are you feeling about the forthcoming tour? You’ve spoken before about wanting to play on boats…
I’m at Houston airport right now. On my way. There is only one boat on tour I think.
Are you still living in Austin? What draws you to the place?
Drawn by the hot winters, gnarly live oak trees, ease of operation.
I notice you’ve grown quite a beard, any particular reason? I’ve a friend who’s adamant a man has to be extremely handsome to pull off a beard.
I grow a beard sometimes. I’m extremely handsome.
I?ve seen women crying at your shows before, is that common?
Tears are shed. It cleans their eyes so they might more clearly see.
You talk about being light and dark on the new record – which do you prefer?
No one is one or other. It’s a balance.
A lot of critics seem to pick up on the black humour in your lyrics. To what extent are your songs autobiographical?
I don’t understand why people ask that. What bearing does it have on the music. Is it better or worse or in any way different if it is autobiographical? I say no.
Have the women in your life been a source of your strength or weakness?
Strength.
Are there times when you’ve lamented the power that women have had over you?
Never. Gotta catch my flight.
That’s all I could get out of him. It makes me like him even more. Stars shouldn’t be understandable.
Watch this amazing video of him playing “River Guard” from Knock, Knock in a taxi:
And listen to these songs, one from his past and one from his new album:
Smog – “I Break Horses”
07 All Thoughts Are Prey To Some Beast
Bill Callahan – “All Thoughts Are Prey To Some Beast”
PHOTOS: 1. STEVE GULLICK 2. EWAN M 3. UNCREDITED
