Live Review: Bill Callahan at the Brattle Theatre

As we warned yesterday, the somewhat surly singer-songwriter (sorry for the alliteration) Bill Callahan doesn't take kindly to requests. There would be no "Dress Sexy at My Funeral" last night at the Brattle, despite repeated shouts for it. (We like the song, but were mostly disappointed that Callahan never responded "I already do" to any "Dress sexy" requests. Ha! Barefoot, jeans, and button down is sexy to us, apparently. Also, Callahan's hair is getting long these days. We like it.) And an asshole "fan" who called for Callahan to hurry up his tuning—"I have to work tomorrow" is a pretty absurd thing to shout out at a Monday night concert, by the way—were greeted with "Well, you can go." (He didn't. Who would?)

Basically, Bill Callahan isn't playing music for you; he's playing music because he likes to, and because he's good at it. And that's the way music should be. Last night's set at the Brattle was a passionate mix of tunes from recent release Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle and 2007's Woke on a Whaleheart with plenty of Smog (Callahan's former recording pseudonym) tunes intermixed.

Openers (and Callahan's Drag City labelmates) Lights set the stage oddly, with a female duo coming out in gold lame hoodie and fringed vest to do a vocal duet with cymbal accompaniment. The girls moved to guitar and drums and were joined by a bassist. The trio's songs (apparently one member was missing) felt like odd, strangled 70s throwbacks heard underwater, with occasional snippets of clarity; if Disney commissioned a soundtrack for some weird coming-of-age-film set in the 1970s, maybe Lights could write it.

After that odd interlude, Callahan came out accompanied by strings, bass, and drums. His rich baritone seemed a little more strained and less velvety than on record; maybe he was tired (though he's got a ways to go on tour), or maybe the sound wasn't quite right (he did request more vocals, and things improved slightly). The house lights had blazed on Lights (har har), but were far more subdued for Callahan, with most of the light coming from a single-color projection screen behind the band. The strings and keyboards (used only on a few tunes) sounded beautiful, and combined with Callahan's voice and guitar to create a fully realized sonic landscape: gorgeous, but (as always with Callahan) undercut with darkness.

Callahan has done a lot of great work over the years and attracted a reasonable following, but he's never had a particularly meteoric standout moment. He once told music blog Ease Down the Road in an interview, "Whatever it is you want to work on, work on it. That’s all you can do is work, there is no insight." Maybe not, but your work still has the potential to inspire insights in those who hear it—or at least those who really listen. Callahan's appeal lies in a tenuous combination of consistency—the voice, the vocal patterning, the simple chords—and surprise—the dark moments, the lyrics bordering on poetry, the times when it all comes together in a near-religious experience. Some songs last night bordered on such ecstasy, but others brought us back to where we were: a rock show. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Songs included "Our Anniversary," "Diamond Dancer," "Sycamore," "Too Many Birds," "The Wind and the Dove," "Eid Ma Clack Shaw," "Rococo Zephyr," and "Rock Bottom Riser," with "Say Valley Maker" and "Let Me See the Colts" pleasing old school fans in the encore. All in all, Callahan's show was a divine experience for committed fans, and hopefully converted any folks who were on the fence. World Music/CRASHarts continues Thursday with Pitchfork fave Dirty Projectors alongside Vieux Farka Touré at the Somerville Theatre, and The Low Anthem with Anais Mitchell at the Brattle.