Bill Callahan – Gold Record Review
The issue is, however, that this slow, mellow instrumental style and half-sung country vocals are not built upon, nor are they moved away from, at pretty much any point in the album.
“Gold Record” is the latest addition to Bill Callahan’s already vast discography from a career spanning over 40 years. Instrumentally understated, with more of a focus on songwriting, it is clear from listening that this is an album that would come deep into the artist’s career: there is a real wisdom and self-reflection to the storytelling in the lyrics, and to his voice, but the style is old. Really, it sounds a little dated in 2020. While the low-key style may appeal to some, it pales in comparison to his much more interesting takes on the singer-songwriter style from each of his albums released between 2009 and 2013. The pearls of wisdom offered here are barely worth the wait as we have to navigate through bland soundscapes to find them.
That said, the opener, “Pigeons”, starts the album on a positive note. The storytelling style almost feels like a folk tale or a conversation you might have with an older guy in a village pub that you never forget. The subtle instrumental accompanies his tale of working a wedding and being asked by the groom for some marriage advice. The advice, as an unmarried 20-year-old, is difficult to evaluate – it’s either some of the most poetic, beautiful advice I’ve ever heard, or just pretentious shite. However, Callahan is aware of this: “how my words had gone over, I couldn’t tell/Potent advice, or preachy as hell?” Instrumentally, there are also some moments of beauty within: subtle, but used nicely to emphasise particular points of the narrative. In all, it is a really strong opener. The issue is, however, that this slow, mellow instrumental style and half-sung country vocals are not built upon, nor are they moved away from, at pretty much any point in the album.
The next two tracks, “Another Song” and “35”, go by with little to catch my attention – I’m indifferent to both of them. “Another Song” sets the scene of being tired out after a day of joyless work, wanting nothing but to rest and listen to music; “35” focuses instead on losing attachment to the world around you (“I can't see myself in the books I read these days”). Both are sweet but their lowkey, understated style, accompanied by Callahan’s unwavering attachment to speak-singing in the same “wise” tone means that it is hard to care about these themes at all while listening – you have to really try.
“Protest Song” is the first song that I actively really dislike. The wisdom we are offered to start with is pushed aside in favour of immaturity and gatekeeping. The song is about him getting angry at a boy singing a protest song. He gives pretty much no reason why this song is wrong, other than an ambiguous claim that it’s “lies”, and that the boy is “messing with a man’s toys”. Honestly, he just sounds like a total prick in this song, unable to have his opinions challenged without threatening violence. The lyrics are baseless, immature and a little trashy, and the instrumental is boring. I can’t believe he released this and thought “yeah I don’t sound like the adult version of a high school bully here”. It almost entirely contradicts any of the introspection of the rest of the album and has absolutely no redeeming qualities as a track – it doesn’t even sound nice.
“The Mackenzies” is one of my preferred tracks. It works in the same way as “Pigeons”, with the relatably reflective anecdotal style of lyricism. He tells us of how a neighbour helped him after his car broke down. The story is self-reflective and sweet for the most part, making for a compelling song. That is, until the line “I could tell by his eyes that he had died/Some time ago”, which just comes across as being fake-deep. Considering the style of these songs is stripped back, there is a real focus on the lyrics – so it’s important that they’re good.
The second leg of the album contains fewer talking points, many of the songs leaving little to no impression on me. “Let’s Move To The Country” offers a sparse soundscape but the song can only be described as sweet, almost like a cowboy singing you a little lullaby. However, it’s nothing more than that and the close to rapping style of the outro is really jarring. If it’s a lullaby, that bit would wake you back up again — and not in a good way. “Ry Cooder”, a generally quite corny sounding song, is a love letter to the musician and film score-writer of the same name, while “As I Wander” is a sweet closer with some pretty instrumentation to serenade us out of this rough listen.
“Breakfast”, however, is the stand-out moment on the album’s second half. It gives an interesting narrative of a broken relationship, where they still love each other but struggle to avoid fights: “I drink so that we don't fight/She don't drink so that we don't fight”. The song-writing here offers some rare subtlety and the slightly dry humour lands nicely too (“She hates to watch me eat/Or go hungry”). Overall, it’s a really sad story, but the small insight into this marriage still manages to say a lot.
Overall, “Gold Record” struggles to find its footing as a wise, storytelling singer-songwriter album, with little real wisdom being offered. For how late it is in his career, it amazes me how immature some of the lines written here are. Certainly, when he does it well, Bill Callahan does a great job of making you relate to the characters he sings about, creating a real empathy for the couple in “Breakfast”, the introvert from “The Mackenzies” and the self-critical wise man from “Pigeons”, but there are so many uninteresting or downright annoying tracks that these moments of beauty become lost. Unfortunately, I also can’t say that there’s the instrumentation to add any other interest to the album either, leaving us with a bland, forgettable and frustrating record.
