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Album Review

Bill Callahan's Dream River Review

  • Post Author
    by Web manager
  • Post Date
    Tue Jan 28 2014

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An album cover, sometimes slapped on for the aesthetic shock (Amorica) or minimized as unnecessary (Yeezus), can (and, arguably, should) serve as a sort-of tell all of an artist's intentions for their collection of songs.

A few years back when I traveled to Yellowstone, there was a stop on the trip that occasionally continues to pass through my mind: The Buffalo Bill Center of the West, a campy tourist attraction only in name, located in Cody, Wyoming.

The exhibits there ranged from historical walkthroughs of the life and times of the center's namesake, the Native American civilizations of the area and their proud, yet tragically dilapidated culture, a firearms gallery, and a natural history section. The Center encapsulated the aspirations and consequences of Manifest Destiny, America's desire for westward expansion and a lawless frontier.

But what the hell does this have to do with Bill Callahan's Dream River?

What struck me most about the museum was the art section. Landscapes and other works from the likes of Frederic Remington and Karl Bodmer covered the section's walls. For me, the real standouts painted were by artist Jim Wilcox, a Wyoming native and Prix de West award winner. His impressionistic views of Yosemite Valley aptly captured the hues and subtleties of the scenery.

Now, when I saw the Dream River cover for the first time, I thought it was a painting by Wilcox. I discovered, however, it was by Paul Ryan (no, not the loathed Wisconsin politician), an artist whose oils blotch upon the canvas in a way that looks more abjectly personal than Wilcox's subjective and refined marks.

This personal and imploring exploration of the American West is the exact feeling that describes the cover and music of Bill Callahan's Dream River. From the first hazy notes and dangling slide sounds from “The Sing,” the album feels like an attempt for a man to understand his everyday thoughts and feelings through natural geography.

From there, the album swirls in moody and subdued tones like Ryan's brushstrokes, only coming up for moments of clarity on songs like “Small Plane” and the album's final two songs. This feeling of circuitous meandering (think the hauntingly repetitive “beer…thank you” and “ride my arrow” lines) isn't the only sensation exhibited, though, as moments in “Spring” and “Summer Painter” take darker and more biting turns in fashion to some of Callahan's Smog work.

The only trouble may be that these emotional high and lows are never put quite far enough away from each other. The kettle never boils over with a hiss on the album, as the lo-fi whispers are only countered by restrained petulance (he leaves the listener wondering if he'll ever really wake up on “Seagull”). What made Sometimes I Wish I Were An Eagle an apex of Callahan's career was the range of dynamic contrast between and within the songs on that album in a way that is just not present on Dream River.

That is not to say this album is without poetic moments. At its closing, “Winter Road” cinematically calls for the long shot, which I think is what Callahan intended for the entire album. Like Paul Ryan's cover work, we see an artist continuing to learn “when things are beautiful / to just keep on.”

-Eric Wiig

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BILL CALLAHAN

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