Bill Callahan ‘My Days of 58’ Review: An Album with a Lot (of Death) on Its Mind

For such a pleasant-sounding album, Bill Callahan’s My Years of 58 has got a lot of death on its mind. “I had a bad dream that I was gonna die/My spirit guide came and showed me where I was to hide,” he sings on opener “Why Do Men Sing?” On “The Man I’m Supposed to Be,” he apologizes to his wife for his shortcomings, saying, “I’ll start living my life as if the next day I’ll be dead.” For the singer-songwriter, even talk of death comes with a wink.

Even when Callahan turns to subject matter other than his own mortality, he’s preoccupied with the legacy and trauma one generation imparts to the next. “Dad, you dropped a bomb on me, when I was 30/You said, ‘You got by without a father’/So you figured why should I have one?” Callahan sings on “Empathy,” and later wonders what his own kids will think of him.

My Years of 58 often evokes a private-press record. The songs feel informal and intimate, intended to sound as though they were recorded in a living room. This is extremely plainspoken music, with simple rhyme schemes and no-frills arrangements. And thanks, in part, to his deep, conversational baritone, Callahan often sounds like he’s musing on the spot: “Although they’re in the middle, I added these lines last/I don’t know if they’re true,” he admits at one point.

The album is steeped in roots-rock, with touches of country and blues. Bill McCullough’s pedal steel cuts through the mix, with solos that carry the emotional weight of Callahan’s lyrics. (Though it lacks swagger, like much of the album, the honky-tonk “Stepping Out for Air” recalls the Stones). And while the low-key tone of My Years of 58 may dampen its power a bit, the album sees Callahan facing down mortality with his signature candor and sense of humor.