The quiet work of a master (and everyone)
By Adam Arnold, ArtsEtc. Writer
In the late ’80s, Will Oldham began a film career. He received significant praise at a young age for his role in 1987’s “Matewan,” John Sayle’s period film about the rise of a miner’s union in southwestern West Virginia.
But Oldham’s focus turned to music, and through the ’90s, with varied accomplices including his brothers Paul and Ned, he released a number of CDs/albums/singles under various names — Palace Brothers, Palace Music, Palace Songs, and so on.
The music was familiar, reflecting the rural America of Oldham’s native Kentucky. But it was also new, folkishly rustic but with lyrics that are odd, disturbing, cryptic and featuring Johnny Cash-like themes like death, God, sin and redemptive love.
Despite fine production, Palace proclaimed the “lo-fi” revolution that will someday be acknowledged as the valid, natural supplanter of grunge. It is no coincidence that 1995’s Viva Last Blues — arguably the finest album in the Palace catalog — was produced by Steve Albini, who produced Nirvana’s In Utero among many others.
In the post-Palace years, Oldham recorded a few efforts under his own name, sometimes in collaboration — notably with Ryan Murphy on 2000’s masterful, unheralded folk-baroque EP, All Most Heaven. Simultaneously, he developed his current incarnation as Bonnie “Prince” Billy.
In 1999 he released the deep, morbid I See a Darkness, followed in 2001 by the lighter, subtler, but no-less-probing Ease Down the Road. These two CDs perfectly describe Oldham’s range, from the most gothic folk music to the boldest country explorations.
So where, on that scale, would the newest Bonnie Billy album fall? The answer is: square in the middle. Anachronistic connecting tissue between I See a Darkness and Ease Down the Road, Master and Everyone may be a good point of entry for a new Will Oldham fan. It balances on the understated spectrum between Darkness’ brooding introspection and Road’s conflicted domesticity.
But unlike those two albums, there are no loud or upbeat songs here, and there’s hardly a percussive sound to be heard. So without a predetermined appreciation for Oldham’s melancholia, M & E may be nigh impenetrable. It will certainly require a few listens before his subtle melodic skill will become evident to the uninitiated. That effort will be worthwhile.
Oldham’s voice is beautiful and real, like imperfect-but-honest singing from a front porch in some dying rural town. His simple-at-first-listen arrangements are sublime tapestries by comfortable ensembles.
On M & E he is joined on several tracks by Marty Slayton, the perfect female counterpart to his own earthy tenor. One should thereby get an impression from Master and Everyone of what Will Oldham is about.
He is a mysterious character. Whether his limited fame is deliberate or a natural by-product of musical quality and integrity, he does not seem eager to further his fame either by excessive self-promotion or by signing the big-label contract to which he is surely entitled.
Master and Everyone is released by Drag City and Oldham’s own Palace Records label. It may be for the best if Will Oldham maintains his low profile and privileged, word-of-mouth success. Those who know his work appreciate it. But, in the light of the mediocrity that is today’s music industry, it may be time for more people to join the club.
Grade: A/B
