Callahan started out as a highly experimental artist, utilizing sub-standard instruments and recording equipment. His reason for using the lo-fi approach was not so much an aesthetic choice, rather it came from his lack of knowledge of recording studios, and fear of giving up control to professional engineers.
His later work saw him overcoming his fear of studios and producers, and in this period he recorded two albums with the influential producer Jim O'Rourke and musicians from the circles around Drag City, as well as collaborating with the similar-minded Neil Hagerty.
His songs are based on simple, repetitive structures, strikingly characterized by his baritone vocal. His lyrics are often centered around themes of spiritual searching and the complexity of emotions, with the use of subtlety and dark irony in the classic sense. There is also a broad swathe of joy throughout Callahan's work (and a singular obsession with horses that he shares with Will Oldham and Mark Linkous). He is a keen storyteller using simple words to project large and deeply echoing tales.
Callahan's love life has been documented with vigor in numerous hipster publications, including his romantic relationship with Chan Marshall (Cat Power), who allegedly penned "To Be a Good Woman" in tribute to Callahan while referencing his song "To Be Of Use." It has recently been rumored that Callahan is now involved with Drag City labelmate Joanna Newsom.
Callahan is widely seen as one of the important figures of American rock in the '90s. He currently resides in Austin, TX.
On his 2007 album "Woke on a Whaleheart" he dropped the name Smog and used his real name, Bill Callahan.
There are other artists with the same name:
2. Smog was a psychedelic rock band from Perù, wich in 1971 released the single Time for the Blues
3. Sludge/doom metal from Nuremberg, Germany
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4. Black metal from Kraków, Poland
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Distance
Smog Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
A human sound of fleshy flesh
Little fists pummel absently
To birth the spirit in the room
The wind it seems to lick
The wind it seems to suck
The wind is a great big woman
My body seems to be lacking something
I remember the taste
That on a night like this
Wa sonly ever shed in haste
All these moments have passed through me
I have turned them all to waste
There are women on the street
They shine before me like teeth in a mine
And their are voices on the street
One of them is mine
If I watched from a high hidden window
I'd hear myself say
Oh I can't make it out
I'm too far away
But the conversation is like the beating
Taken in a dream
Where no real blows are landed
The only harm is in memory
All these women have passed through me
I have turned them all to waste
The song "Distance" by Smog describes a sense of detachment and isolation that the singer is experiencing. The opening lyrics describe a curtain flapping in the wind, creating a human sound that gives life to the room. With little fists pounding aimlessly, the singer reflects on the wind and how it seems to both lick and suck. The wind is personified as a great big woman who makes the hair on the back of their neck stand up. The sensation of the wind represents the singer's internal struggle with the emptiness they feel inside.
As the song progresses, the singer reflects on their past experiences and how they've turned them all into wasted moments. They are haunted by the memory of the taste of something they can no longer have, a fleeting moment that was only ever experienced in haste. They long for a connection that they can't seem to find or hold onto.
The singer observes the women on the street and the voices around them. They feel like they are far away from it all, unable to connect or engage in any meaningful way. They are disconnected, relegated to observing from afar. Even when they try to engage in conversation, it feels like nothing more than a dream. They are caught in a cycle of loneliness, unable to break free from the distance that separates them from the rest of the world.
Line by Line Meaning
The curtain slaps in the wind
The sound of the curtain hitting the window conveys a human-like presence in a lifeless room.
A human sound of fleshy flesh
The sound of the curtain flapping in the wind is reminiscent of a human fleshy sound.
Little fists pummel absently
The repetitive hitting on the wall displays an unconscious attempt to manifest an entity within the room.
To birth the spirit in the room
The rhythmic beating is an endeavor to create a spiritual presence within the space.
The wind it seems to lick
The wind behaves like a tongue licking the window glass.
The wind it seems to suck
The wind creates a vacuum-like sensation that draws attention to the listener's physical form.
The wind is a great big woman
The wind is personified and given the attributes of an immense woman.
That makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up
The presence of the wind evokes a physical response in the listener's body, causing the hair on their neck to stand.
My body seems to be lacking something
The listener feels incomplete and identifies a physical deficiency within their body.
I remember the taste
The listener recalls a sensory experience associated with a past memory.
That on a night like this
The remembered taste is connected to a specific past moment, possibly a similar evening.
Was only ever shed in haste
The ephemeral nature of the memory is emphasized by the brevity in which it was experienced and forgotten.
All these moments have passed through me
The singer has experienced a series of fleeting moments in their life.
I have turned them all to waste
The singer feels as though they have not fully captured and appreciated these moments, resulting in feelings of regret and loss.
There are women on the street
The presence of women on the street draws the listener's attention.
They shine before me like teeth in a mine
The women's presence is as bright and captivating as sunlight reflecting off diamonds in a mine.
And their are voices on the street
The sounds of the street are equally captivating to the listener.
One of them is mine
The listener recognizes their own voice among the sounds in the street.
If I watched from a high hidden window
If the listener were to observe the street from afar, removed from the action.
I'd hear myself say
The listener imagines themselves as an observer, making sense of the actions taking place below.
Oh I can't make it out
Even as an observer, the listener struggles to comprehend the events unfolding before them.
I'm too far away
The distance between the listener and the scene makes it impossible to see or feel the details of the moment.
But the conversation is like the beating
The act of conversation is compared to a rhythmic beating, akin to the sound of earlier in the song.
Taken in a dream
The conversation is likened to events that occur within a dream state.
Where no real blows are landed
In this dream reality, the talks are composed of words and ideas, rather than physical violence.
The only harm is in memory
The regrets and memories of these conversations are the only lasting and meaningful consequence.
All these women have passed through me
The singer has had many experiences with women in their life.
I have turned them all to waste
The artist again expresses a deep sadness and a feeling of missed opportunities for connection with the women in their life.
Lyrics © ROUGH TRADE PUBLISHING
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