A return to Yorkshire for the cult singer-songwriter offers the chance to hear his new songs delivered in old styles and old songs sung in new ways.
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Though he was born in Maryland USA, tonight’s gig is a homecoming of sorts for Bill Callahan, who, a little bafflingly, spent a hefty chunk of his childhood growing up in the nearby market town of Knaresborough, North Yorkshire.
Callahan’s parents worked as language analysts for the US National Security Agency, intercepting and interpreting messages using the satellites known locally as ‘the golf balls’ that were plonked in the middle of the Yorkshire countryside in the late 1950s.
Those holding their breath for a cheery, crowd-pleasing “Gee, it’s great to be back in York-shire! How’s ol’ Mother Shipton’s Cave doing?” from the terminally deadpan musician after the band walk out to Tina Turner’s Private Dancer would be at risk of passing out, however.
One man does in fact faint during tonight’s gig, following a succession of cacophonous, atonal endings to ‘Coyotes’ and ‘Naked Souls’ from recently released album ‘YTI⅃AƎЯ,’ the electric renditions of which hark back to Callahan’s beginnings as a bloody-minded experimentalist under the Smog moniker.
Tonight’s gig feels like a gritty dose of hard Bill, straight to the veins, that runs counter to the bucolic image of Callahan as “the epitome of centred calmness,” as one review of ‘Gold Record’ (2020) put it, after he became a father in 2015.
On stage, his eyes are either shut or shine like little shirt buttons, as he concentrates on recreating the harsh atmosphere of those early Smog records, swapping the acoustic guitar for a telecaster. Chicago saxophonist Dustin Laurenzi, who has previously toured extensively with Bon Iver and appeared on their album ’22, A Million,’ joins the band tonight, lending elements of offbeat, improvised jazz to Callahan’s twisted country rock songs alongside intuitive guitarist Mark Kenzie and the incomparable Jim White.
It’s an abomination that it’s taken this long into the review to mention Jim White, in many ways the driving force behind what makes tonight’s gig such a dream. White, who formed iconic Aussie instrumentalists Dirty Three alongside Warren Ellis and Mick Turner, is intensely watchable under the lights of the respectfully refurbished Brudenell, where the sharp smell of cheese and onion crips intermingles with the array of real ale and craft beer options that puts most other corporate sponsored gig venues around the country to shame.
White, a stunning man who is worth the cost of entry alone, has such a nonchalant, expressive drumming style that he makes it look almost effortless. His placidity is betrayed, however, by a series of satisfyingly circular sweat patches that grow ever larger on his torso as the gig goes on.
Callahan, meanwhile, is characteristically rigid, almost inscrutable, but nevertheless appears to be having a whale of a time, even occasionally running up and down on the spot and doing wee jigs during ‘Bowevil,’ ‘Natural Information’ and ‘Partition.’ The latter builds and builds around the lyrics “Meditate, ventilate, do what you’ve got to do / Microdose, change your clothes / Do what you’ve got to do,” while White blows a shrill referees’ whistle.
Sometimes Callahan’s facial expression on stage suggests he could be passing a kidney stone. However, the sound coming out from his mouth is much more at ease, often wistful, unerringly enigmatic, conjuring up dreamlike images of the natural world with flashes of violence and dark humour.
“We warmed our hands in the corpse of a wild horse/ on the shores of Assateague / And then blood on our hands / Up to our elbows / At least we’re all in this horse together,” he sings on ‘Everyway’ from ‘YTI⅃AƎЯ’.
In between songs we get to hear some choice Callahan philosophy – from “emotions are physics, you’ll see” to “there’s no setlist in life.” Meanwhile, the extended, repetitive, dissonant outros tabbed onto many of tonight’s songs could justifiably raise the ire of the audience in a bigger setting.
The Yorkshire crowd, however, appear rapt, as the intimacy of the Brudenell makes it easier to look more favourably on such indulgence. So too the way that Callahan, Bob Dylan-style, chooses to re-interpret the delivery of lyrics to incredible songs such as ‘Drover,’ ‘Rock Bottom Riser’ and ‘Riding For the Feeling.’
The recorded versions of these songs are perfect, so perhaps Callahan sees little point in trying to recreate them flawlessly on stage. Instead, we hear them with extra percussive flourishes courtesy of White, the undisputed star of tonight’s show. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” says Callahan to White before the band exit the stage. A suitable goodbye.
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Words: Nico Frank
Photo Credit: Hanly Banks Callahan
