If I could, I would snuggle up in a sleeping bag made of Bill Callahan’s baritone, sepia-hued voice. I’ve never been one to fall particularly hard for folky American singer/songwriters with sadness in their hearts (and I’ll admit to being only an entry-level Smog listener—Smog being the name he performed under from 1990 to 2005), but Callahan’s newest album, Dream River, is hypnotizing. Something in the songs’ slow, friendly melancholy might induce smiling, foot-tapping, sobbing, heavy pondering, and/or the urge to take a lonesome road trip to the nearest sunset. (Neumos, 925 E Pike St, neumos.com, 8 pm, $20, 21+)

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