Songwriter Bill Callahan – aka "the deep voice of American solitude" – writes melancholy country-inspired songs that often sound like poems set to music.
He talks to Kim Hill about purpose, self-understanding and his latest album YTI⅃AƎЯ ('reality' spelt backwards).
Bill Callahan Photo: Supplied
Bill Callahan has been highly acclaimed for the long list of albums he's made under the alias 'Smog' and his own name since the early 1990s.
Yet he tells Kim Hill that his very first experience of performing music was the loneliest moment of his life.
The gig was at Coney Island venue Sideshows by the Seashore, supporting Pavement – an "upcoming hot band' from California.
"I was obviously completely green. I had no idea what it meant to play a show… I think I was more nervous for my first soundcheck than I was for my first show. Because I guess you could say it was the first time I'd ever performed for anybody was the soundcheck."
Callahan got little encouragement from watching Pavement's soundcheck before his own.
"As soon as they started playing their soundcheck all the heads started bobbing in the crowd and they applauded after each song, which isn't usually the case with a soundcheck. There's usually nobody there except for some people that work there.
"And then it was my turn, and everybody cleared out. Just me and Tim – my guitarist at the time – and the soundman. I shut my eyes and started playing a song and when I opened them again the soundman had left the room. Before I realised he was gone I was like 'yeah, that sounds pretty good' ... It was probably the loneliest moment of my life."
Solo music performance is just as emotionally exposing as stand-up comedy, Callahan says.
"A band has the added arsenal of noise and sound – they can drown out people. But if you're just playing guitar by yourself and singing it's very similar to stand-up comedy. And the lifestyle, town to town and hotels…"
Bill Callahan in the 1990s Photo: Rough Trade Publishing
After years of that lifestyle, Callahan is now more often at home in Austin, Texas with his wife Hanly and their two young children.
He describes settling down as "the cold shower where I found out I actually like cold showers".
Before he found music in his late teens, Callahan says he felt purposeless, like many others at that "very lost age".
He now believes one of the most important purposes in life, that we all share, is to try and understand ourselves and the world.
"When you understand yourself, you can make yourself a better person because you truly understand your behaviours and the things you say, what you project onto your world."
Working on how we treat other people and ourselves is another essential project, he says.
"I think I've made some progress; I think I have a long way to go."
David Berman Photo: Shawn Ehlers/WireImage
Callahan says he felt "obligated" to write a song about his late friend and collaborator David Berman for the album YTI⅃AƎЯ.
Last One at the Party is about the musician and poet who suicided in 2019 after "a reckless life of doing drugs and burning bridges".
Figuring out how to help someone in a deeply self-destructive state is very hard, Callahan says.
"What you can do for a person like that is just a big question mark, really. I don't really know if it's simple or if there's any answer. You try to be supportive and tell them how great they are as often as possible and listen to them and give them wide spaces to be themselves. But really it feels so futile most of the time, you know. You can't really touch somebody who's in that type of state … You have to hit rock bottom and save yourself."
Although he's had bouts of depression since his early 20s, Callahan says in recent years he's been "doing fine".
To him, a depressive response to the world has a child-like aspect.
"For me, [coming out of it] was kind of like growing up and saying, 'I've got to get out of this'. And therapy helps immensely."
Callahan clarified his thoughts on depression in this post-interview message:
"I was kind of phumphering around in the interview while talking about causes of depression. I said it could have childish qualities to it. I think a more accurate statement would have been that depression has qualities of being stuck. You may be stuck in childhood, you may be stuck in a relationship that has ended, you may be stuck at age 62 when your partner or best friend dies. You may be stuck in the unravelling of the twine of your life. There's a knot in your twine and that depresses you, immobilises you, stuck. Thank you for giving me the chance to dance with the horrors and beauty of language. I love you all very much, New Zealand. Have a good Saturday morning and I hope you can go look at or get in some water today. Yours sincerely, Bill Callahan."
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