“Do not underestimate the determination of a quiet man”, as Iain Duncan Smith once whispered, erotically. While it’s not recorded whether the ex-Tory leading slaphead is a Smog fan, you feel he’d enjoy himself here, in the Thekla’s packed crowd, hanging on Bill Callahan’s every hushed word. The level of adulation tonight is pretty blatant; I count at least five people mid-swoon or blinking back tears. Seems reasonable: the phenomenal effect wrenched from what is essentially a man leading a band through some guitar-based songs is so far from its conventional origins that you may as well just embrace it, yeah?

(Should mention the support really. Sophia Knapp started out wholly competent, vaguely pleasant on little more than acoustic guitar and squeaky voice. Things progressed into more interesting skeletal territory before returning to generic singer-songwriter tunes. Between the last two songs she turned her back on the audience and lost herself in some great, witchy finger picking, before carrying back on. WHY, SOPHIA, WHY?)

“We’ve played churches the last five nights. It’s good to be back in a… boat.” How is this gig so good? Maybe it’s the songs, songs that set a solitary course and navigate slowly along each step, cello and violin brushing softy, or otherwise, alongside. Or maybe it’s the mannerisms, the face oddly contorted over the odd line, the little standstill stomp that makes him look like a giant sexy chicken. Projected or not, a Bill gig is heavy with notions of manners, calm, maybe justified disgust. Maybe it’s just that fucking voice though, deep and tender and sorrowful and coming from some great seam in the ground. Get him narrating a documentary about climate change and see the difference. It’s all… ridiculous. I need a lie down.

(More information about Iain Duncan Smithcan be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X6fjoQ_esqU and http://www.conservatives.com/pdf/ids.pdf)