BILL CALLAHAN is fed up with noisy neighbors. The guy living above bun just put on a Bjork record, which sounded nice up until he whipped out his saxophone and started playing along, totally out of key. Callahan promptly left his apartment, which he doesn't always do. He usually wears headphones instead.

"I've got these ones for a person who operates a jackhammer," he imparts. "I usually wear those all day, but I can still hear the man upstairs. He drives me crazy."

So what's wrong with this picture? Well Callahan, you see, is the rock star. OK, so not exactly a "rock" "star"...

For one thing, Callahan--better known as (Smog)--is a master of small, not big, sounds. While others prove their point through high-powered riffage and pelvic thrusts, Callahan makes his with a gentle tap on the shoulder. His quiet, folksy compositions are perfect fodder for the imagination, and his wry, pint-sized voice is enough to lull you right there.

Years before Elliott Smith and Will Oldham dusted off their cassette recorders, there was Callahan, warbling about evil tyrants and insane cops over meager strands of acoustic guitar. Years after his first record, 1992's Forgotten Foundation, he's still doing the same thing, though his once-cracked, erratic...