here were definitely more positive records to grow up with, and far moresane lyrical influences to have as an impressionable teen, but theunmistakable honesty and sensitivity hiding behind singer/songwriter BillCallahan's (aka Smog) misanthropy made him a favourite of my teenage years.I was wooed by Red Apple Falls, and quickly fell in love with the backcatalogue of this strange, solitary man. Whilst essentially a solo artistfrom the beginning, Callahan has sought assistance from various troubadoursand luminaries within the indie community, more recently tapping the Chicagoscene for 2000's Dongs of Sevotion and his latest collection of mildlypsychotic dirges, Rain on Lens.


Where Callahan's choice of company on each record seemed before to suggest awant of experimentation and sonic variation, it seems now to reveal anuninspired restlessness. His work with O'Rourke is considered by many to behis best - 1996's brilliant, varied Wild Love was followed by 1997's countrytinged masterstroke Red Apple Falls. Always prolific, 1998 brought KnockKnock, (again with O'Rourke at the helm) an album that saw Callahan receiveperhaps his most universal critical acclaim yet. After incredibly darkmoments (Burning Kingdom) and entire albums of dour, sparse laments (DoctorCame at Dawn) framing his observational genius in a more sanguine light gavehim more emotional impact and a new legion of fans. Reaction to Dongs ofSevotion was mixed; whilst there was some of Smog's best ever material("Distance", "Permanent Smile") it lacked the consistency of his best workand at an hour long, was far less engaging.


Keeping up his average of one album a year, Drag City's most profitablecurmudgeon returns with Rain On Lens, his tenth full length, and his leastimpressive by a fair margin. Released with his usual moniker in parenthesis,Callahan seems to have lost a significant amount of the confessional charmof his earlier releases, replaced in this case by a kind of wry misanthropy.There are less of the relationship confessionals that carried earlier works,replacing them with the detached platitudes of "Keep Some Steady Friends Around" and "Natural Decline." One of Callahan's most unique and enduringqualities has been the ability to make the listener feel like they are inthe room with him, watching his relationships decay as he pretends he isinvulnerable to it - that quality goes missing for much of this album.


Musically speaking, Callahan has surrounded himself with some considerablemusic talent - Jessica Billey, an adaptable and evocative violinist notablefor her work with Mick Turner and Simon Joyner, among many others. Despitethe pedigree of the hired help - Rick Rizzo (11th Dream Day) and Pat Samson(US Maple) - the best ideas on the album seem half developed. The firsttrack, "Rain On Lens 1" contains only a persistent bass drum, distant guitarand string drones and Callahan's abstract half sentences repeated - "Rain OnLens/Boom in Frame/let's call it a day." Just as the guitar flourishes beginto pick up momentum and the track gathers weight, it ends, breaking abruptlyinto "Song" a track characteristic of the problems with Callahan's recentwork and almost as uninspired as the title suggests. While Callahan tossesoff occasionally incisive metaphors for his inadequacy and inertia as aperson (I'm a bit like the peephole/that falls in love with all the eyes),the chugging sample and dull repetitive riffing render Callahan's alreadydetached musings unaffecting.


"The Natural Decline" follows and, while slightly more interesting, isalmost as repetitive as its predecessor, and is again propped up only bysome infrequent memorable lines - "The night sky is a jewellery storewindow/and my mind is half a brick." A constant 4/4 drum beat introduces thelistener to the uninspired drumming found throughout. Cascading singlestring guitar drones support a mostly two-note riff and Callahan's slightlymore involved baritone as he riffs on the opposites inherent in humanattention. Aside from the tantalising introduction provided by "Rain On Lens(1)," the album is a dour listen thus far, and the situation improves onlymarginally with "Keep Some Steady Friends Around." Boasting a more hopefullyrical outlook and an upbeat melody enriched by Billey's violins,Callahan's double tracked vocals and some jangly acoustic guitar, itfinishes abruptly with a typically open ended Callahan musing "Someone askedme just the other day/About souls and such/and if I believed in judgementday." "Dirty Pants" a dark, oblique tale set to a distorted dirge is a wellintentioned effort, with Samson's icy drones and Billey's violins duellingbehind Callahan's continued inquiries about God - "Back you into thecorner/And I multiply could toll endlessly into the bottomless night/Goddoes not answer this type of prayer."


The album does contain, as possibly every Smog release does, a musical andlyrical triumph. "Live As If Someone Is Always Watching You" seems to embodywhat all the other stories and sounds on this record lack - tonal warmth andvariation and a slight sense of vulnerability and emotion on Callahan'spart. Gentle cascading riffs wash over a lightly strummed acoustic guitarand Billey's emotive violin flourishes as Callahan narrates the compromiseneeded for two lovers to stay together, backed by ethereal multi trackedfemale harmonies.


Elsewhere, though, it is obvious that Bill is lacking inspiration. "LazyRain" falls victim to the repetitive, bland nature that sours most of thealbum while "Short Drive" and "Revanchism", represent some of the weakestmaterial Callahan has ever penned. The latter two are countrified horrors,"Short Drive" showcasing the worst aspects of Callahan's previous attemptsat alt-rockabilly anthems and "Revanchism," a limp, twangy mess that flailshopelessly trying to fuse a tossed off back porch chord progression withsub-par reflections on incest. We are a long way from "My Family" here,folks.


Clocking in at less than 40 minutes, the lack of sonic variation on Rain OnLens proves to be its undoing. Billey's violin work imbues the songs withdesperately needed warmth and there are moments of the brilliant, originalsong writing that has kept Callahan near the top of the pile over the courseof his 10-year career. But considering the depth of his catalogue thus far,this is a comparitively poor effort. Taken as a whole, it does not stand upto repeated listens and suggests, sadly, that for the first time in hiscareer, perhaps Bill should slow down and wait until he has some bettermaterial, or at least a more interesting way to express his uniquepsychosis.