Doctor Came At Dawn

Nothing in Smog's previous output suggests the austere beauty presented here. Previously, Bill Callahan (who for all intents and purposes is Smog) recorded half-finished vignettes that were held down by an excess of low-fi studio mud. Here, he slows everything down to a trickle (except "Somewhere in the Night" which positively rollicks along by comparison) and the leaky faucet of this doom seems to be unfixable. The deadpan basso-profundo delivery gets deeper over time as the nails of failure from each relationship are hammered in. The opener is "You Moved In" and rests as a bad omen. By the time of "All Your Women Things," Callahan is constructing a dolly from his ex-girlfriend's accouterments. Spooky. --Rob O'Connor

Documenting romantic decay and deception with typically unflinching honesty, Bill Callahan recounts every painful detail of falling in and out of love over the course of The Doctor Came at Dawn. "You Moved In" recalls an affair's desperate, obsessive beginnings with grim humor: "You could have done better, but oh well." The song's eerie, foreboding strings and piano arrangement, as well as Callahan's deadpan vocals, give fair warning that The Doctor Came at Dawn's intimate sound hits close to home. The deadly aim of "Lize," a duet between Callahan and his sometime creative and romantic partner Cindy Dall, spares no one: "You don't make lies like you used to," they sing in near-unison, creating the tense, charged atmosphere of a stifled argument. As always, Smog walks the fine line between self-deprecation and self-parody; "Somewhere in the Night"'s handclaps and acoustic strumming make it sound like a rousing, inspirational folk song -- except for the sneer embedded in Callahan's voice as he urges his beloved to devote herself to someone else. But The Doctor Came at Dawn is at its best when Callahan's sense of empathy emerges on the remarkable "All Your Women Things." Initially, it seems like a fetishistic ballad about keeping an ex-lover's things, but with deeper listening, it reveals itself as a very sincere (albeit unnerving) love song, praising his lover's different aspects: "How could I ignore your hardness, your softness, and your mercy?" Lyrically and emotionally complex, the song exemplifies the depth of Smog's songwriting. The album is also musically deep, with understated guitar, piano, and string arrangements that give the rich vocals and lyrics added impact. It might be Smog's darkest collection of songs, but it's also among Callahan's most mature and rewarding. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide