Smog
A River Ain't Too Much To Love
Drag City

Oh Bill, you fool - you sad, lonely fool. I hear you sing and I wonder how you've managed to conceal your aching vulnerability for so long.

You were always there, but cunningly cloaked in the timbres of the narrator - detached, knowing what would happen next. But now there's less measured cleverness in your voice - and more wavering sincerity. You take some songs and reel them out for too long, chancing your arm on arrangements that don't hold the weight. It all adds up to the sound of a man who's not scared to admit he doesn't know where he's going.

I like your choice of instrumentation this time around, the rustic feel of these gentle songs, and your words can send me flipping cartwheels sometimes. There's a hammer dulcimer too.

For now I drive through winter fog, winding with the guitar lines, and imagine the trees crying.

Bill Callahan, welcome to your new home - your own skin.

Copyright © 2005 Tim Clarke