On Bill Callahan's Apocalypse

I wrote the blurb for Bill Callahan's third solo record Apocalypse in the year-end issue of Exclaim. Here 'tis:

“The real people went away" is Bill Callahan’s opening salvo on his third studio album under his birth name, Apocalypse, an album of disconcerting beauty that searches for truth and meaning in a world of simulacrum. Apocalypse is his strongest work in over a decade, but that isn’t to say that the former Mr. Smog has been slumming it. On the contrary, Callahan’s work has been remarkably consistent, with each album building on the mythology of its predecessor, creating a unique and evocative body of work wrapped in his gauzily mellow, yet acutely foreboding baritone. Evoking the circuitous poetry of William Faulkner in his expressionistic tales of Americana, Callahan has weaved together seven multi-layered mini-stories into a wholly captivating narrative that asserts its place as an expression of the wild, wild country that gave it life. A quiet yet assertive record, Apocalypse’s centerpiece is the extraordinary “America!”, perhaps the most overtly political track Callahan has attempted to date. Alluding to Kris Kristofferson, Mickey Newbury, George Jones, and Johnny Cash, Callahan envisions a revisionist history where these three rough-hewn poets lead an armada which allows the world to forget the sins of “the past they don’t care to mention.” Unlike many of his contemporaries who came of age in the great ‘sad bastard’ wave of the late '90s, nearly all of whom have dried up, sold out, or disappeared, Callahan has stayed relevant without trend-hopping. Apocalypse is one of the finest achievements of this singular songwriter.