Smog has long been the name for Bill Callahan’s profuse musical output, which has always revolved around Callahan and his guitar. A pioneer in the 1980s of what would later be dubbed “lo-fi” (a catch-all term assigned to slightly scratchy, background-noise-filled, four-track recordings), Callahan’s early work was angst ridden and disjointed, jagged at the edges and a total rejection of over-produced pop.
Under the cloudy (sometimes gloomy) influence of Smog, Callahan churned out a dozen full-length records and a slew of EPs over nearly two decades. But with the release of his Diamond Dancer EP in March, he shrugged off the pseudonym in favor of the name his parents gave him. Callahan has yet to adjust to his new designation after shrouding himself in this cloak for so many years.
“I’m still getting used to the change myself. It was necessary for Smog to die, though. [I] was starting to think I was suffering from monomania,” Callahan says via email, his preferred mode of communication for interviews. “I feel like the kid who got his first haircut: hyperaware and proud.”
And though Callahan never seemed to suffer from any limitations as Smog, shedding his murky moniker has apparently added to the heady atmospherics of his work. His newest album, Woke on a Whaleheart (released in April), finds Callahan moving even farther away from his roots as a spare experimentalist with folk inclinations. A gifted six-piece group backs him up with sumptuous, well-wrought arrangements. And Callahan’s richly complex guitar intertwines with his deep baritone, so that the two play off each other, providing the foundation from which each song builds. Callahan admits he strives to bring together the guitar and voice as one instrument.
“I’m thinking of two balanced things. Like a seesaw maybe,” Callahan explains. “It’s one thing with two sides that work in tandem, and just thinking of the voice as the seventh string on the guitar, or maybe the guitar as six accompanying voices to my voice.”
Much of the record’s intricacy is a result of Callahan’s work with Neil Hagerty (formerly of Royal Trux), who arranged and co-produced Whaleheart. Their collaboration was conducted at arm’s length, with Callahan sending Hagerty a demo, and Hagerty developing the compositions from there. But Callahan was aware of Hagerty’s process, since Callahan has known him for 15 years and worked with him previously.
“He arranged the songs with almost no discernible trace of input from me. He’s an old-school producer who would prefer it if the session players and the songwriter would leave the building after doing their part,” Callahan says.
And though Hagerty helped craft an intensely beautiful record, Callahan says he plans to continue to reinvent himself on his next effort, perhaps returning to a simpler, more streamlined approach.
“I’m not so sure I will give myself over like that again, or attempt to,” Callahan says. “I feel real focused these days and ready to strip it all away and rebuild it again on my own.”
Sept. 6, Southpaw, 125 5th Ave. (betw. Sterling & St. John’s Pls.), B’klyn, 718-230-0236; 8, $15. (Sept. 7, Highline Ballroom)
Under the cloudy (sometimes gloomy) influence of Smog, Callahan churned out a dozen full-length records and a slew of EPs over nearly two decades. But with the release of his Diamond Dancer EP in March, he shrugged off the pseudonym in favor of the name his parents gave him. Callahan has yet to adjust to his new designation after shrouding himself in this cloak for so many years.
“I’m still getting used to the change myself. It was necessary for Smog to die, though. [I] was starting to think I was suffering from monomania,” Callahan says via email, his preferred mode of communication for interviews. “I feel like the kid who got his first haircut: hyperaware and proud.”
And though Callahan never seemed to suffer from any limitations as Smog, shedding his murky moniker has apparently added to the heady atmospherics of his work. His newest album, Woke on a Whaleheart (released in April), finds Callahan moving even farther away from his roots as a spare experimentalist with folk inclinations. A gifted six-piece group backs him up with sumptuous, well-wrought arrangements. And Callahan’s richly complex guitar intertwines with his deep baritone, so that the two play off each other, providing the foundation from which each song builds. Callahan admits he strives to bring together the guitar and voice as one instrument.
“I’m thinking of two balanced things. Like a seesaw maybe,” Callahan explains. “It’s one thing with two sides that work in tandem, and just thinking of the voice as the seventh string on the guitar, or maybe the guitar as six accompanying voices to my voice.”
Much of the record’s intricacy is a result of Callahan’s work with Neil Hagerty (formerly of Royal Trux), who arranged and co-produced Whaleheart. Their collaboration was conducted at arm’s length, with Callahan sending Hagerty a demo, and Hagerty developing the compositions from there. But Callahan was aware of Hagerty’s process, since Callahan has known him for 15 years and worked with him previously.
“He arranged the songs with almost no discernible trace of input from me. He’s an old-school producer who would prefer it if the session players and the songwriter would leave the building after doing their part,” Callahan says.
And though Hagerty helped craft an intensely beautiful record, Callahan says he plans to continue to reinvent himself on his next effort, perhaps returning to a simpler, more streamlined approach.
“I’m not so sure I will give myself over like that again, or attempt to,” Callahan says. “I feel real focused these days and ready to strip it all away and rebuild it again on my own.”
Sept. 6, Southpaw, 125 5th Ave. (betw. Sterling & St. John’s Pls.), B’klyn, 718-230-0236; 8, $15. (Sept. 7, Highline Ballroom)
