Knock Knock is the seventh studio album from Bill Callahan, at the time still trading under the Smog moniker, and an album that rekindles broken spirits. Proper dark magic.
Just in case you didn't know, before Bill Callahan became Bill Callahan, there was an extensive set of material released under the name, Smog. Eleven studio albums and handful of extended plays that developed over a decade and a half from the rawest and scratchiest confessionals, through to lush and cinematic suites. His voice is inimitable and instantly recognisable, but in a highly enviable discography, Knock Knock is a strange stand-out where he was able to bring two distinct parts to the Smog sound together. Firstly, there are songs that are full of gentle optimism and a knowing acceptance, often locking into a groove like raga. The other distinct mode is more akin to the earlier releases, with gut wrenching honesty at barely more than a baritone whisper. Callahan is much revered for his lyrics and on Knock Knock he really paints vivid and quite direct pictures of self-loathing and ominous enigmas. But it’s not all dark, this is an album about moving ever forward.
Besides a set of fantastic songs and Callahan’s impeccable delivery, the production on Knock Knock is just absolutely amazing. Produced with Jim O’Rourke over ten days (who also produced the preceding Red Apple Falls album), it is really inventive stuff. His less-is-more approach is so often exactly what is needed, especially when Callahan’s voice is so starkly in the spotlight. Elsewhere, the appearance of the children's choir is seriously one of the only times that young voices have ever appeared on an album without causing nails on chalkboard effect*. Like the lightning and scratching metal-esque Smog script on the front cover, there are also some heavy music references too with prime rippin’ O’Rourke guitar tones. But from the riffs to the children to the orchestral flourishes, it is all so beautifully subtle.
Although a proper album for consumption as such, there are so many stand-out moments, from the motorik chugs of ‘Hit The Ground Running’ and the iconic ‘Cold Blooded Old Times’, to the looping lullabies of the album opener ‘Let's Move To The Country’. Richly dark, but never wallowing, Knock Knock is a strangely optimistic album. It never pretends that bad times aren’t bad, it’s just adamant that they don’t always last and you’ve just got to keep moving forwards.
* Yeah yeah, I am sure there are loads, but it’s rarely worth the risk.
