31 August 2007
tell your friends...
Words by Joel Minor // Illustration by Chris Gregori
How to close analysis of an album that has been likened, by critics and Callahan himself, to disco, country & western, Motown, funk, gospel, folk, 70s soft rock, Harry Nilsson, Lou Reed, John Cale, Les Paul, Bo Diddley, David Bowie, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash? In sound, this may be the richest stew Callahan has ever served for supper, so it’s fitting the last song is his most down-home and inviting, enveloped in a danceable two-step, retro vibe.
The narrative of “A Man Needs a Woman or a Man to be a Man” is familiar-enough territory for the Callahan cannon: he is alone, self-conscious, communing with inanimate objects and imagination. The scene is most reminiscent of that in “All Your Women Things” — in both, the singer is in a room surrounded by feminine objects and vibes. The similarity ends there, however; the tales quickly become as different as their music, but worth taking a moment to lay out the contrast, indicative as it is of Whaleheart’s overarching mood.
“All Your Women Things” is the tale of a lonely, remorseful man, lamenting that he did not show the love and attention to his lover, long gone and not coming back, that he does now with the possessions she left behind. “A Man Needs a Woman…” features a man who is only temporarily alone, in “our” room, biding his time until his woman returns. A break to the solitude — and all the self-doubts and temptations that come with it — will come. He just needs to be a man in the meantime.
A man not only needs a woman, he needs to keep some steady friends around. Arguably, Bill has never sounded less alone, less supported, than on this album, his first under his own name. “A Man Needs a Woman…” is a fitting closer in this respect too, with Bill’s voice starting off solo, slightly echoing, a sturdy guitar rhythm underneath, then joined by simple percussion and bass beat, and finally waves of gospel backing vocal, fuzzed-out guitar and violin. As Bill himself says, nothing goes on except what should.
Standing at the helm with Callahan to orchestrate all this is Neil Michael Hagerty — someone popular enough in the indie world to potentially overshadow him as he steps alone out of the Smog. Once upon a time another indie icon, Jim O’Rourke, helped Callahan forge a new direction (a direction postulated earlier in this review) by co-producing two landmark albums, Red Apple Falls and Knock Knock, both still two of the most cherished by Smog fans. Much was made then, just as much is made now of such a memorable partnership and the changes they brought.
It’s still to early to judge how Hagarty’s hand will play in the grand scheme, but one thing is certain: even if he returns for follow-up duties on the next album, like O’Rourke did, it won’t sound like Woke on a Whaleheart, any more than Red Apple Falls sounded like Knock Knock. And it won’t sound like a Royal Trux or Howling Hex record any more than this one does. But the singularity of Callahan will remain, no matter what he goes by then.
It’s also too early to tell whether the happiness is here to stay and the loneliness is gone for good. Some artists get stale, lose their touch when they lose their angst (just as some get stale stuck in the rut of heartbreak), but I don’t think Callahan is one of them. He’s just as profound more content as he is less; just as open to the archetypal significance of being with someone as being without; just as able to bring his piercing wit with a me-plus-you-equals-all hoedown.
The stars are of course out there when it’s day, but we can’t see them for the light, and it’s the same with fireworks: nighttime is the right time. “A Man Needs a Woman…” climaxes with a lover returning and the earth turning, both allowing the spectacle of colorful lions, bears, spiders and dragons in the sky, lighting the way. So goes the album, Woke on a Whaleheart, populated with a fiery woman and metaphoric animals that reap wonder and teach lessons, just like the many musical styles and performers of the past, illuminating the album from afar.
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