‘Why’s everybody looking at me/Like there’s something fundamentally wrong?’ It’s a good question. Bill Callahan, then going by the name of Smog, asked it on Palimpsest, the opening song on his 2005 masterpiece A River Ain’t Too Much to Love. It seems he’s still looking for answers now. The first song on his new album is called Why Do Men Sing, and rather than focusing on Callahan’s own place in the world, it casts a wider net. Why Do Men Sing asks questions of many things: of the industry, of masculinity, of the implicitly performative nature of creative life. Callahan questions the validity of his vocation in the face of mortality, and is answered by a spirit guide in the form of Lou Reed dressed all in white, like some kind of dream-god of rock’n’roll. Over the course of seven minutes – and with not a second wasted – we are led through various musical phases: wandering acoustic folk, country rock, squally guitar improv, parping brass.
In the song’s wide-ranging structure, and in its lyrical concerns, it shares a large part of its world with Callahan’s earlier, Smog-era output. But there are subtle differences. While there has always been a tension in Callahan’s songs between the imperative and the uncertainty, the balance has now shifted in favour of the latter. Embracing uncertainty has made his songs wiser than ever. They are also funnier, sadder, you might say deeper. My Days of 58’s lead track The Man I’m Supposed to Be is gleefully dark. It’s another one that travels through many phases. The guitars are folky, then tight and choppy, then wild and unhinged. The ‘laugh in the face of death’ refrain invites you to sing along, and the whole thing takes on the feel of an intimate live performance.
Live energy, partly improvised performances, a spirit of collaboration: these are the things that make Callahan tick these days. His long-time percussionist Jim White is on fine form here, as are guitarist Matt Kinsey and saxophonist Dustin Laurenzi. Between them, they are capable of going from tight, krautrock-inspired rhythms to loose, freeform jams in the blink of an eye, and on And Dream Land, they manage to combine classic country with a futuristic freak-out. Guest musicians chip in effectively too: the dusty desert country of West Texas is shot through with Richard Bowden’s solitary fiddle, while Bill McCullough’s pedal steel and Pat Thrasher’s piano crop up at various points, making it seem like parts of the album could have been recorded in Big Pink. Computer is full of noisy twiddles and tweets of guitar, while Callahan bemoans the snowstorm of online anger (and the alarming rise of computer-generated music) that even he finds it difficult to ignore.
Humour plays a part here, as always (Callahan is a Randy Newman fan after all). Pathol O.G. starts with fluttering sax and spoken word (a brief personal history of Callahan’s relationship with music). The drums lock in and another catchy refrain – ‘it’s important to not treat your lifeboat as a yacht’ – worms its way into your skull, but not before you’ve been treated to one of the best bits of comic timing you’ll ever hear in a ‘serious’ song: ‘she said you should spend the night… looking for a hotel.’ But he can do straight sincerity too. On Empathy he imagines a touching, painfully honest father-son conversation before singing the praises of the younger generation without a trace of bitterness or an ounce of schmaltz, and Lake Winnebago is a feather-light cloud of a song that delights in unexpected rhymes and still manages to stuff a clever bon mot into practically every line.
Stepping Out For Air is a slow-burning country number drenched in a melancholic kind of wit. The brass weeps, the guitar jangles and chimes plaintively, a bassline fools around for a spell, playing the clown. Melodies and miniature hooks threaten to take things in a poppier direction. Over the top of it all, Callahan is his languid, lucid self. On the bluesy country of Highway Born, he betrays his love for the classic American trope of motor travel and for an era of American music and culture that is perhaps under-represented in ‘serious’ art. One of many Callahan paradoxes: for a man ploughing a lonely and unique furrow, he is in touch with the greats of previous generations. Lonely City has traces of Neil Young (ditch-dwelling, Will To Love era Neil Young, of course) about it, but also hints of the aforementioned Lou Reed at his conversational best.
My Days of 58’s final song, The World is Still, is something of an outlier in Callahan’s catalogue: an ambient sheen, redolent of Japanese environmental music, provides the base on which an uncharacteristically simple, minimal lyric can float. It is a moment of realisation, where questions melt away, and it is beautiful in its own nebulous way. It comes as no surprise to learn that Callahan practices meditation. Might it be a sign that this most inquisitive of songwriters is going to give up on his quest for answers? That’s unlikely to happen any time soon, but it does show that, over three and a half decades into his career, he is still capable of adding more strings to his bow.
My Days of 58 (February 27, 2026) Drag City
Pre-Order/Save: https://billcallahan.lnk.to/mydaysof58
Bill Callahan UK Solo Instore Tour
23rd Feb. @ Stranger Than Paradise Records – London – 6.30pm
23rd Feb. @ Stranger Than Paradise Records – London – 8pm
24th Feb. @ Resident Music – Brighton – 7pm
25th Feb. @ Drift Records – Totnes – 7pm
26th Feb. @ Rough Trade – Liverpool – 8pm
27th Feb. @ Monorail – Glasgow – 7.30pm
Bill Callahan European Tour Dates
Tickets on sale this Friday (Feb 27th)
w/Matt Kinsey, Dustin Laurenzi & Jim White
30th Sept. @ Wylam Brewery – Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, EN
1st Oct. @ The Queen’s Hall – Edinburgh, SC
2nd Oct. @ Aviva Studios (The Hall) – Manchester, EN
4th Oct. @ Leeds Irish Centre – Leeds, EN
5th Oct. @ Roundhouse – London, EN
6th Oct. @ Theatre Royal – Brighton, EN
8th Oct @ Le Trianon – Paris, FR
9th Oct. @ De Roma – Antwerp, BE
10th Oct. @ Melkweg Max – Amsterdam, NL
11th Oct. @De Oosterpoort – Groningen, NL