
Texas-based songwriter Bill Callahan has spent the past decade turning ordinary scenes into something rather disorienting, and this new set deepens that uncanny focus. The playing feels looser than his recent work, shaped by the group that has followed him onstage, giving the songs a lived-in warmth that suits his dry, elliptical storytelling. His voice sits low in the mix, more like a guide than a centre, letting the arrangements open out around him. 'Why Do Men Sing' begins with a slow, wavering melody that feels half-spoken, half-suspended. 'The Man I'm Supposed To Be' drifts into a more fragile register with the horns moving with a couch-bound softness while 'Pathol O.G.' sharpens the frame with a clipped rhythmic stride. On the later side, 'Lonely City' settles into a gentle sway before 'West Texas' and 'Computer' widen the record's scale, the band finding a subtle, unforced lift that carries the final pieces into a calmer dusk.