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Now come - the chair portrayed on the cover invites you - come sit, isolate yourself from everything and everyone, open your mind, listen. A very fitting design. Because listening like this demands concentration, involvement, sensitivity. Because few artists convey unease, melancholy, oppression, loneliness so genuinely. As if to say, but what the hell am I doing here? And why? Maybe because it's the only life you have, so you hold onto it tightly. Maybe because we all are sad sometimes, or lost, and we will be in the future, but songs like this leave you stunned, disarm you, they go deep down, until they truly infuse you with feelings. Sounds that dig, deep melodies, and an alienated voice, as if singing reluctantly; lo-fi and orchestration.
Pure claustrophobia in "Strawberry Rash", which calls to mind "Heroin", but it exaggerates the cadence, the pace, until it submerges it in a well of boredom. And there's talent. There's talent in "I Am Star Wars!", an old rock enriched by lo-fi. And the tracks flow, leaving sensations inside you. Lend an ear to the country-western of "37 Push Ups", or the psychedelic ballad of "What Kind Of Angel". But there's also room for harmony. And there's room for another ballad. And there's room for a minimalist track. And there's room for a Spanish-like guitar. It all fits in.
Bill Callahan, aka Smog, with his sounds he skillfully suggests the idea of a life that gradually slips away, but that never really wanted to be life. Apathy and indifference. Boredom. And he presents himself as a sincere artist. All talent, all life experience. Now I stop, I get up from the chair, because there's always a limit; but you, if you get the chance, sit and listen. Maybe when you're sad. Maybe not. Maybe you'll just like it.
"...I wanted to ride that wild horse
into the sun
But I no longer think that
I'm your chosen one
Oh no, I no longer think that
I'm your chosen one..."
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