Smog (not to be confused with Golden Smog) is basically one man named Bill Callahan, singer-songwriter resident of Austin, Texas, who has also recorded under his own name and, in some cases, such as this one, with a band. “Cold Blooded Old Times” hits first like an upbeat singalong, with a chorus large and in charge: “Cold blooded old times,” x3. The verses get down to the reality of things around here, which are not so upbeat. They seem to involve memories from childhood of an abusive and disintegrating marriage, memories that can “turn your bones to glass / ... And though you were / Just a little squirrel / You understood every word.” Some of the ways of expressing here are neither comforting nor very clear, notably the plaint: “How can I stand / And laugh with the man / Who redefined your body?” There’s a lot of things that could mean—the mind runs to all of them at once, the more you hear it, absorb it. None are good. But the song carries on over four minutes with its deceptive jaunty air, which includes submerged piano figures from Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London” toward the end, absurdly calling things like “his hair was perfect!” to mind. The title phrase, “cold blooded old times,” cannot possibly mean anything good and the verses do what they need to tack that down. Yet the pleasure of singing with this song, learning its tricky small turns and getting them down, overcomes the dubious implications. Is there any right and wrong here? You can really belt this one with the singer if your voice is in good form and you have his key.
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