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Smog

Om Smog

Seminal Indie Rock musician and 4-track revolutionary Bill Callahan breathes man-made life into his music that resides under the Smog moniker. Callahan's insulated underworld is animated by his ability to layer disturbing soundscapes next to aural pleasures in a disjointed portal to his pseudo-neurotic, nostalgia-absorbing, melancholic mind and lovelorn way of life. The music here is a sonic orchestra of come-down melodies and splintered atmospheric fragments that are carefully stitched together like a successfully operating, musical Frankenstein's monster. His is the soundtrack for throwing in the towel.

356x237

Smog

Seminal Indie Rock musician and 4-track revolutionary Bill Callahan breathes man-made life into his music that resides under the Smog moniker. Callahan's insulated underworld is animated by his ability to layer disturbing soundscapes next to aural pleasures in a disjointed portal to his pseudo-neurotic, nostalgia-absorbing, melancholic mind and lovelorn way of life. The music here is a sonic orchestra of come-down melodies and splintered atmospheric fragments that are carefully stitched together like a successfully operating, musical Frankenstein's monster. His is the soundtrack for throwing in the towel.

Om Smog

Seminal Indie Rock musician and 4-track revolutionary Bill Callahan breathes man-made life into his music that resides under the Smog moniker. Callahan's insulated underworld is animated by his ability to layer disturbing soundscapes next to aural pleasures in a disjointed portal to his pseudo-neurotic, nostalgia-absorbing, melancholic mind and lovelorn way of life. The music here is a sonic orchestra of come-down melodies and splintered atmospheric fragments that are carefully stitched together like a successfully operating, musical Frankenstein's monster. His is the soundtrack for throwing in the towel.

Om Smog

Seminal Indie Rock musician and 4-track revolutionary Bill Callahan breathes man-made life into his music that resides under the Smog moniker. Callahan's insulated underworld is animated by his ability to layer disturbing soundscapes next to aural pleasures in a disjointed portal to his pseudo-neurotic, nostalgia-absorbing, melancholic mind and lovelorn way of life. The music here is a sonic orchestra of come-down melodies and splintered atmospheric fragments that are carefully stitched together like a successfully operating, musical Frankenstein's monster. His is the soundtrack for throwing in the towel.

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