ill Callahan sure is one miserable bastard. Like his similarly minded labelmate Will Oldham, he’s made a career out of despair, heartache, and emotional breakdown, with hardly a bright spot in sight in his entire catalogue. Wherever it is that he lives, there are no sunny days, and nothing to ever get very excited about. His last album was called Rain on Lens, and the most upbeat song on his masterpiece Dongs of Sevotion was called “Dress Sexy at My Funeral.” You’ll never catch him stepping out of this down-and-out persona – his deadpan, sad-sack baritone will probably keep intoning these same sad hymns of death and lost romance until the end of time.


As such, evaluating a new (Smog) album is a tricky proposition. The recent addition of parentheses aside, not much has changed in Callahan’s insular little world since he first started churning out homemade demo tapes back in 1988. Dongs of Sevotion, from 2000, was a slight departure in that it replaced Callahan’s typical no-fi folk with more fleshed-out arrangements and real studio production. But despite the presence of Tortoise’s John McEntire and some genuine electrified rock songs, even that album didn’t sound essentially much different from Callahan’s previous work.


After the stark, focused melodrama of the follow-up Rain on Lens, Supper marks a return to the comparatively more eclectic direction of Dongs, this time with a nearly full commitment to rocking out. It’s a welcome change, too; this is the closest Callahan has ever come to releasing a full “rock” album, and the varied instrumentation makes up for the lack of variation in mood.


The album is top-loaded with its most rocking songs, kicking off on a downright enthusiastic note before slowly shifting down into the lower gears. The album opener “Feather By Feather” is a nuanced alt-country number, with twangy electric guitars and female background harmonies behind Callahan’s distinctive tuneless moaning. “Butterflies Drowned in Wine” and “Morality” are both bluesy stompers driven along by stuttering guitars and a steady cruisin’ beat. Even the more restrained songs on the album, like the repetitive, droning “Ambition” and the Neil Young-ish guitar opus “Truth Serum,” are bolstered by fiery accents and a sturdy rhythmic base.


As welcome as Callahan’s newfound musical catholicity is, it would mean nothing if his songs weren’t still strong. Thankfully, they are. There’s nothing as willfully quirky or funny as the better moments on Dongs, but Callahan’s lyrics can still bite hard, as well as painting emotionally rich portraits with just a few words. On the stark “Our Anniversary,” which is musically most reminiscent of pre-Dongs Smog, Callahan creates a tapestry of poignant images and scenes from his economical, literate lyrics.


The album’s gradual descent into lament on its second half reaches a pinnacle with the sublime “Driving.” One of the best moments in the entire (Smog) discography, the song consists entirely of Callahan repeating, “and the rain washes the price off of our windshield” over a loose, formless backing of rumbling percussion, plucked guitars, and ghostly female backing vocals. As the repetition of the vocals becomes a mantra, the chant of a sad man seeking salvation, the song reaches for (and achieves) transcendence, which is beautifully mirrored by the explosions of fireworks in the background.


After this, the album closes with the unassuming spiritual plea of “A Guiding Light,” thus receding on a note of redemptive hope virtually unparalleled by Callahan’s past albums. So perhaps things aren’t so bad in the world of (Smog) after all. Certainly, with an album this impressive under his belt, Callahan should be encouraged to reach out even further on future works. Supper is a fine accomplishment, a record of sad grace and folky simplicity that outdoes its predecessors and hints at a very worthwhile future.