
Dour, dry and enigmatic - five years ago
those would have been your go-to adjectives
for explaining Bill Callahan’s alter-ego
Smog. He’s a small man with an old voice,
and his latest album, the piece of work that
has just wiped him out, is Sometimes I Wish
We Were An Eagle. It’s the second he’s
released under his own name and it’s another
gorgeous adventure into his playful
mind. It seems softer, wistful and friendly
almost, miles away from the Smog records
of yore.
Without that familiar brand name, the
years since Callahan laid Smog to rest have
been like starting over. With eleven records
released over fifteen years, Callahan
had developed a loyal fan base for Smog
amongst the same kinds of folks who adore
Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy and Jim O’Rourke.
Then with one swipe, he started releasing
albums just as himself. Sometimes I Wish
We Were An Eagle is Callahan building up
his name again, releasing something he
thinks is beautiful.
But he’s still facing the dead period
that awaits him every time he completes
a record, sometimes writing nothing that
strikes a chord in him for an entire year.
Luckily, as long as it lasts, so far it’s always
ended.
“All of a sudden it hits me and I’ll write
a record in like two or three months,” said
Callahan. “I’m always writing. I write all
the time. I don’t really give myself time off.
The more times I do it, though things definitely
change since I’ve been doing it over
18 years, you start to see patterns. They
may shift over time, but you still may start
to wonder, should I go have fun and not
even try for six months?” said Callahan. “I
never knew if I should be just doing that,
but I kind of realized over the past few records
that that period where you’re trying
to do stuff is sort of a germination process.
Something in the subconscious is happening,
because you are eventually getting to
the place where you can write stuff. So I
think it’s all part of the process of making a
new record.”
He’s not the type to conjure up a hundred
songs, record them, and widdle them
down to an album (not to mention any
names… Ryan Adams). He’s more methodical.
“I have a really clear idea of the
beginning, middle and end and I know if I’m
writing correctly they’re just all pieces of a
certain-sized puzzle.”
“I think with this record, I really clicked
with Brian [Beattie] who was the arranger.
I had done a few little things with him before,
asking him to do the record, so that
means that he had a really great understanding
of what a song was supposed to
be. He’s a really incredible guy. He loves
what he does and he pours his heart into it
plus he’s really good,” said Callahan. “Getting
to work with someone like that is the
most exciting thing. It’s kind of like having
another one of me that has different capabilities
I don’t have. I can’t write string
parts or anything like that. That kind of
made it a doubly good record.”
There’s an element of luck and skill in
finding the proper folks to get the record
done right, and it doesn’t always pan out
the way you’d expect. With the final Smog
release, A River Ain’t Too Much To Love, Callahan
found out the hard way you can’t
just wing it and hope for the best. “I sort
of made the mistake of not knowing who
the engineer was. I think it’s pretty important
to know the engineer beforehand. So
with that record, I was doing it at Willie
Nelson’s studio and I just assumed that ‘oh
the engineer is going to be awesome’ and
I’m afraid that wasn’t the case,” said Callahan.
“He didn’t really understand what
was going on, and we had a lot of technical
problems and communication problems…
I don’t like everything to be known when
I go in to make a record, it seems like it
might be too comfortable. It’s good to
take chances. I guess that was my thinking,
choosing that for that record, but I guess I
sort of learned my lesson.”
“There’s a lot of pressure while you’re
in the studio, because you’re paying money
for every hour and you have a limited time,
that’s usually a pretty high pressure situation,
in a good way, it makes you think at
the top of your game. I mean it would be
nice to not have that pressure, like if you
owned your own studio or something like
that, but it has it a function,” said Callahan.
“Just having any deadline makes you finish
something. I mean I’d like to try it someday,
having all the time in the world, but it
usually works out as good as it’s going to
work out no matter what.”
“Sometimes when you make a record
in a hurry you have to make a decisions
about the mixes and stuff you aren’t sure
about. Or you just miss things because it’s
a lot of work to cram into a little period.
So with this record we had a lot more time
to think about things. More discussion and
we also remixed a few songs where maybe
in the past I wouldn’t have had that chance.
A lot of the time when a record’s over, and
that might be a fault of mine, but when a
record’s over, it’s over. I might hear some
flaws, but don’t really… I mean, in a way
it’s good to not be able to correct things
because whatever you do, it’s a document
of what happened in that seven to eight
days. But that kind of process sometimes
leaves you with a little regret, so this time
with Brian he sort of confirmed with me
that some songs would be better if we put
things on hold and remixed things instead
of rushing forward. In that way, there’s less
flaws on this record than normally.”
With all of those beautiful, wounded,
alienated songs floating in a trail behind
him, Callahan has been pondering moving
in new directions. Like any musician, he’s
an avid listener, and soaking up all those
different flavors and styles has him thinking
about jumping into different musical
worlds and trying out new things.
“I always think about all the different
records I could make,” said Callahan about
his fantasy to record an album in every
genre before he dies. “One of them I’ve
been thinking about for a long time is sort
of in the hip-hop vein. That’s one I have
to think a lot about. It wouldn’t be traditional,
I wouldn’t sing about my Rolex or
Hennessey or anything.”
“My plan for that record is to try a little
bit of it first,” said Callahan with a chuckle.
“Just a song or two, and see if I’m crazy.”
The true test of a man and whether he
loves his craft are his yearnings for the
future. Callahan isn’t necessarily afraid of
death, he just wants to keep making his
time capsule he’ll leave behind when it’s all
over. To tap into everything he can and
see how it fits that puzzle in his brain for
the big picture.
“The sketches I have for records, I’ll
probably get to them all eventually. Even
though some of them I’ve been holding
onto for a really long time. I don’t know
if they’ll ever get made, but there’s always
more. Like the thing I’m working on now
is a brand new idea. It’s usually just something,
it’s like a litter of puppies and one
of them stands out to you, one of them
just stands out to you as the strongest one.
If it’s the right time for something, it becomes
kind of more concrete, it becomes
something more than an idea. It’s just a
feeling.”
And after all these years of rotating life
on the road with life in the studio, it’s all
still fun and fresh for Callahan. “I really
enjoy it now. I think I pretty much always
have, but I think I’ve learned to enjoy it a
little bit more. I think you learn to make
it more enjoyable over the years. I really
like traveling. I don’t like the routine of being
at home. There’s a certain routine…
which is good, kind of relaxing in a way.
Your responsibilities, having to perform
every night, the travel, all that, those are
all pretty big things you have to do, but
I always try to get a line-up that’s gonna
excite me right off the bat,” said Callahan.
“If I hated my band it would be something
I dreaded, but it’s always something I’m curious
about, to see if I can make it work.
Touring is actually thriving in the death
throes of the recording product. People
are actually buying merchandise. The record
stores are shutting down, so you kind
of gotta be like a gypsy and bring your market
to the people.”
Originally published in the Summer ‘09 issue of Ghettoblaster, a quarterly culture and entertainment mag.
Jason Schueppert