“I used to be darker, then I got lighter, then I got dark again,” Bill Callahan intones during his song Jim Cain.
Luckily for his audience, the musician formerly known as Smog is still a master of blurring the lines between light and shade, his melancholy words and music undercut with optimism and dark humour.
Tonight’s show is part of Vivid, Sydney’s festival of lights, so it’s fitting that each song is accompanied by a projections by Illawara-based artist Paul Ryan. Ryan, a 14-time Archibald prize nominee, has provided the artwork for Callahan’s last three albums, but tonight is the first time the two have met.
Ryan’s Australiana images of dark trees, wild rivers and imposing mountains framed by bright skies conjure a world that could just as easily be the America of Callahan’s songs. On a few of the songs, the projection shows a Ryan sketch gradually come to life, layer by layer, as Callahan and his band build their song underneath.
The majority of the set is taken from the four proper albums released under Callahan’s own name. Over two and a half hours, he and his band play a collection of deeply textured tunes behind Callahan’s distinctive deadpan baritone. Some, such as Universal Applicant, One Fine Morning and America! are drawn out past the 10-minute mark, building into a combination of delicate acoustic strumming and discordant, squalling electric guitar with heavy use of the vibrato bar.
The highlight of the performance is a deadly slow cover of the Grateful Dead’s Easy Wind. Over a simple, repetitive bass note, Callahan renders Robert Hunter’s words exceptionally bleak, but the delivery is tinged with his customary wryness – a tone even more evident in one of just two songs from his Smog days, Dress Sexy at My Funeral. The other, a beautifully quiet version of Say Valley Maker, closes the main set and gets the biggest cheer of the night.
Throughout the show, Callahan’s delivery is more conversational than on record, and he seems happy to spin songs out into extended jams. On a couple of occasions this reaches the point of self-indulgence, but when the songs being played are this beautiful, it’s hard to begrudge him.
As the applause died down and the house lights went up, I heard fans on either side start humming different Callahan tunes from earlier in the evening. It’s that sort of music – it gets ingrained in your mind, the rhythms and words etching themselves into your brain. I hope they stay there for a while.
