Bill Callahan

Until the very fine day when Amy Goodman assumes her rightful space at NPR, we shall be grateful that the organization possesses the wisdom to employ the staffperson whose quite grand idea it was to lay before us the eminent Bill Callahan.
I have elsewhere remarked my admiration for Bill's work, and became so attached to a previous album, that it obscured for a moment the greatness of his current.
He is presently touring with Bachelorette, to the usual incisive and dedicated reviews.
Cheers to Drag City, label of saints.

Music One: Bill Callahan, Chloe Sevigny, and Angela

Persons who wander the Seine at dawn without ever thinking of the word 'Paris' or 'Seine' may wish to replicate an experience of profound rhapsodic bliss that I am able to convince myself I achieve by listening to Bill Callahan's song "You Moved In" forty times. This may take an afternoon, or a few beers. Repetition is access.
Also: consider this short film.

Longing, longing, I would be tribbling over with bobbling thanks if you were to encounter him and lay at his ears of awareness that I wait in the darkning shadowed trees of the Bois de Boulogne with my melangio sweet paramour; speaketh the plaint, hight the microline, pull forward the bright silver lightedges of the rainclouds, Angel and I nay desir do twest dola retourna, jest 'im.