last night laura and i went to see smog play at emo’s in austin.  i guess i go to see a lot of shows, with great irregularity, and all the shows i go to aren’t necessarily essentials–that is, in deciding to go, it wasn’t a do-or-die situation.  going to see smog, however, was very much do-or-die, whether sick and vomiting or covered in boils, kind of thing.  i’ve never met someone who didn’t hear of them through me (or through those from whom i learned of smog) so anyone who reads this will probably not have ever heard of him.  it’s okay, we can do this.

this show was played inside emo’s.  emo’s has an outdoor stage and an indoor.  the indoor is significantly smaller, and usually, as far as i know, local bands play in there a lot.  hearing the news that smog was playing in these cramped quarters led me to believe that the fact that no one has heard of them did not come from the fact that i have very little interaction with very many people, but rather that people have, indeed, never heard of him.  which is a strange fact, because he’s been releasing albums since 1990.  this enigma was cleared up when they stepped on stage to play.

bill callahan is the creator of smog.  on his early albums that he recorded on his own, he was the only musician.  i think this has changed, but he’s still the highest entity in smog.  as he stepped on stage, he made me realize that i am no where close to being a man.  he wore sharp but rugged cowboy boots, brown pants, a button up white shirt (which was buttoned down to the point where, had it been one button lower, i’m sorry–that would have been too much), and a nice brown jacket.  he had a martin acoustic slung over his shoulders, pulled up a little awkwardly high.

as they started playing, and bill made no comments whatsoever, it became clear why they aren’t widely known: bill just doesn’t give a damn.  don’t take this the wrong way.  he loves music, you can tell.  and he loves to play his music.  but if you don’t like it, well…to quote a song he played, fuck you all.

he played about 8 songs i had never heard.  i thought this was simply because of the fact that of the 11 albums he has, i only have 6, until a rather rude drunk shouted out, “play something you actually recorded.” the drummer and bassist looked up at bill.  he must have heard it, everyone in the building must have heard it, but there was no sign that it registered, and he immediately started playing another song.  you see, bill doesn’t give a damn.  he didn’t even have any merchandise to sell.  i don’t think bill buys into this whole music-for-money crap.

the drummer was very fun to watch.  at least…not he himself, just his drumming.  his shirt, unlike bill’s, was unbottoned much too far so that his garden of chest hair blossomed out and dripped sweat.  however, i have found that the best drummers are hard to look at.  he looked and played like he belonged in a jazz band.  a real jazz band…not that soft jazz garbage. the bassist was a frail looking woman who sat in a chair in the shadows.

he played about 6 songs that i knew for certain were his–including ‘dress sexy at my funeral,’ ‘vessel in vain,’ and, the song which i guess he’s most known for, ‘cold blooded old times’ (you know it from the movie high fidelity). really great ending, where bill and the drummer went crazy. so did the kid in front of me, who was going into violent convulsions as the song sped up.  we knew this to be his last song–he had been playing for over an hour and a half, with breaks lasting no more than 10 seconds (and no banter other than “thank you” or “this song is…” and even those were rare) and was told he could play 2 more songs (to which he replied “one.”)  when he finished, the crowd parted and the band walked through this new hallway.  it was understood that there would be no encore, and it wasn’t even a disappointment. even if it was, bill didn’t give a damn.

(not a recent photo.  just, leave me alone.)