Over the years, as I've become more and more adept at picking out which CDs from my collection to inflict on my friends, they've become more and more adept at finding swift, comical ways to write them off as crap. Most of them revolve around the central phrase, "You spent money on this?" But a few specific releases have given birth to fun, pointed catchphrases. Gamelan music has been christened "Thai pot-banging music," as has anything else with even the slightest similarity. Any mention of Will Oldham will prompt many of my friends to deadpan something about bleeding mules.

My friends react similarly to the works of Smog, donning a laid-back expression and muttering about death and sex in a baritone. But I've only ventured to expose them to his more recent, cleanly produced records. I do this because I realize that the early efforts of Smog will earn the harshest indictment my friends can cast upon an album: a resounding "Fozz!"

"Fozz," a dramatized version of "fuzz," best said in a heavy Eastern European accent, is serious business. So far, only about three or four recordings have elicited the angry squeal. The first, and the one responsible for originating the term, was the lo-fi classic Bee Thousand. Since then, the term has been applied mainly to such diverse albums as Pavement's Slanted and Enchanted, the Boredoms' Super Are, and any record with Steve Albini on guitar.

Whenever I play these guys a "fozzy" record, I'm confronted with the question of how I can like something so badly recorded. It seems obvious to me: it's the songs! Of course, different production techniques are highly effective in subtly altering perceptions. Crystal-clear, wide open production can leave you feeling larger than your body; lo-fi fozz, when used properly, can make you shrink into your own mind, and leave you feeling trapped and claustrophobic.

Such is the case with Sewn to the Sky, Bill Callahan's 1990 debut full-length, freshly reissued by Drag City. The album presents Callahan as equal parts singer/songwriter and grating noise generator. Using little more than a guitar, a "dumpster portastudio," and his own shaky voice, Callahan constructs what could best be described as a "wall of fozz," a dense amalgamation of brutally strummed acoustic guitar, various types of analog hiss, and ambiguous junkyard percussion.

Sewn to the Sky captures Callahan at a pivotal moment in his career, experimenting with the textural explorations that define his early instrumental work, and the compelling songwriting that would go on to become the focus of his recording career. The record's 20 tracks run the gamut from pure guitar noise experimentation on tracks like "Souped Up II" to fairly structured songs like "The Weightlifter." But even the most structured tracks here are decidedly scrappy-- guitars are slightly out of tune, blasts of hiss come from nowhere, and Callahan's voice wavers in and out of key.

Though none of Sewn to the Sky is as refined as any of Callahan's later recordings, there are hints at the kind of oddly humorous, well-constructed songs that have now become the hallmark of Callahan's work. On "I Want to Tell You About a Man," Callahan sings, "I want to tell you about a man/ You won't see him on the MTV.../ His name is Jesus Christ/ Don't make me say it twice."

Sewn to the Sky is by no means an easy listen; there's very little that warrants the term "melody." At times, the album is just plain jarring. But while not always pleasant, its strength lies in the fact that it is deeply mood-altering. Sewn to the Sky doesn't end with your speakers-- the dirt, the claustrophobia, the awkwardness, and the unsettling terror of the record seem to seep out into your surroundings, leaving you shaken, disturbed, and insecure.

The fact that Bill Callahan managed to construct such a deeply affecting record out of chaos and noise is impressive enough, but the fact that he did so one year before Slanted and Enchanted, and three years prior to Bee Thousand, is nothing short of amazing. By reissuing Sewn to the Sky, an album that can no doubt be considered a lo-fi landmark, Drag City has proven that Bill Callahan is not only one of America's most talented songwriters; he is also the godfather of fozz.

-Matt LeMay