Bill Callahan: Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle

When I got hold of a copy of Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle there were some ugly moments. Drag City had sent what they called a “watermarked” copy, which meant that a comedy hooter went off every two minutes or so. For a while I entertained the idea of reviewing the “product” as such, and giving it a shitty off the cuff review.

I didn’t feel like sending a “you can sure trust me!” email to the label, so I found another way. I downloaded my first unlawful pre-release leak! It wasn’t a very exciting process. But I was glad to hear the record without some weird attention grabbing, industry attempt at protecting their interests. I get it though. Personally I would align myself with what’s said in this interview, for those who don’t want to click the link it boils down to this: circulation of records on blogs, especially before the release date, stems from pointless greed, masquerading as enthusiasm. Buy a record you kleptomaniacs!

Having spent the past six months reviewing records, I have encountered a lot more new records than I would have otherwise. I’m not complaining, but it does bleed the enthusiasm out of going to the “just in” section of a record shop. Despite my early fears I still like music and I still listen to records for fun. If that dried up, I would have to think twice about the current “career”. There have been a few records I have ascribed low or average ratings to, and then found myself going back to for a song or two. Conversely there have been a few I have rated highly, but forgotten about entirely.

So I had a proper copy of the latest Bill Callahan record, a man whose work as Smog and under his given name has been a constant pleasure in my life. On first listens nothing really took hold of me or steered me to any grand vistas. But over the past couple of weeks it’s been the one record I have been putting on everyday for pleasure, mostly on these sunny spring afternoons. I don’t really want to review it for fear of sticking lots of my bulky words all over the experience, but felt like I should give it a try.

I took a listen to some songs from Red Apple Falls last night and the change in Callahan’s voice is distinct. It’s richer and warmer but equally as expressive, albeit in a different way. Even the deeper tones heard on recent albums like Supper and A River Ain’t Too Much To Love sound like those of a younger man. Maybe it’s in the words. There are still a few songs which stem from a simple pastoral metaphor, like the soothing ‘Too Many Birds’ and the exquisite ‘All Thoughts Are Prey To Some Beast’. The lyrical devices are used in an open handed way, particularly in the case of ‘All Thoughts..’ where he begins by pointing out exactly what the birds and the tree represent. The wisdom in this kind of simplicity crept up on me slowly and it is very rewarding. The album is a real grower.

It’s tempting to say that this is what lies at the heart of the record. The acoustic fingerpicking, upon which the songs are built, is very easygoing. Sometimes he holds a chord for long while, delivering the lyrics slowly, lovingly and carefully. Around this lie some beautiful string arrangements, put together by Brian Beattie, alongside organs, piano and percussion. It’s a very different approach to the hands on, open heart surgery production that Neil Hagerty applied to Woke on a Whaleheart, an album that I loved for a good few months and saw me through some strange times.

The strings are low in the mix; soft yet capable of urging a song from dramatic to meaningful with a few stabs. The chord which Callahan plucks out insistently for the pre-chorus on ‘My Friend’ is transfigured from a brooding retreat to a stunning release of tension as uplifting love and affection by the keyboards, horns and Luis Martinez’ dry and clear drums.

I even like the Eleanor Rigby-like arrangement of descending strings and bulbous horns on ‘Eid Ma Clack Shaw’, a rare thing in my world; I can’t say I’m a fan of The Beatles, but the sounds suit the humour of the song. ‘The Wind and the Dove’ starts with a near Eastern feel before heading West and does justice to something painful without becoming painful itself. Sorry if that sounds cryptic, but you’ll just have to get a copy. It’s a great song, one of a few augmented by some simple electric guitar riffs alongside Shearwater’s Jonathan Meiburg playing some fine piano. If someone had told me that I would write “ranks with his finest work” today, on the day I first heard the album, I would have been surprised. I think I would have ended up loving it all the same though, even with a visit from the future.

Personally I wouldn’t have minded if he had left off the last song, ‘Faith/Void’ (a closing philosophical salvo reminiscent in tone of ‘A Man Needs a Woman..’ from Woke on a Whaleheart) and the eerie three minute warble of ‘Invocation of Ratiocination’ that separates ‘Faith/Void’ off from the herd. But they’re by no means bad, and I am comfortably in agreement with the sentiment, if that matters at all. Hey, I’m pretty pleased with myself for writing a review which hasn’t set unreachable goals nor pissed on the music in question. Mission Accomplished. Thanks to Mr Callahan for not making a record which tries to grab your attention, but instead sits there, speaking to those with the time to listen and has a few neat tricks and turns of phrase up its tree.