Dieses 2007er Werk läuft beim Vertrieb unter EP, aber
ich brachte es schlicht nicht über das Herz, diese 8-Song-Intensität
mit dieser Verniedlichung zu entwerten. Fast 30 Minuten währt diese
Interims-Veröffentlichung, und wir können jetzt gern eine Diskussion
starten über klassische Alben, die mit weniger als einer halben Stunde
Spielzeit Musikgeschichte geschrieben haben. Die acht neuen/exklusiven Songs
spielte Oldham in der Begleitung der beiden Espers-Feintöner Meg Baird
und Greg Weeks ein, gemeinsam gelingt den Dreien eine ungeheuer zarte, mitunter
spürbar karge, fast schmerzliche, dennoch immer lebensbejahende Vision
des Folk, eines Folk, der fast nebenbei Jahrhunderte der Tradition mit dem
Hier und Jetzt verbindet. BPB trägt sein Herz auf der Zunge, brüchig-verletzlich
berührt sein Gesang zutiefst, leise umgarnt von Meg Bairds sanfter
Stimme. Die wundervoll natürlich gewachsenen Melodien liegen karg gebettet
in einem Lager aus mal verträumt fließendem, mal wurzelnah gezupftem
Akustik-Gitarren-Spiel, zurückhaltend ausstaffiert mit einer leisen
Orgel, einer verwehten Melodica, einer verspielten E-Gitarren-Melodie oder
überraschenden Klavier-Akkorden. Mini-Album wagt das Vertriebsinfo
Ask Forgiveness zu betiteln, aber zum Glück fiel auch der Preis dementsprechend
aus. So gibts auch zum Ende von 2007 noch ein wertes Bonnie Prince
Billy-Werk für relativ kleines Geld.
(Glitterhouse)
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As 2007 wound down, Will Oldham, as Bonnie "Prince" Billy,
entered the Hexam Head studio in Philadelphia with Greg Weeks and Meg
Baird and recorded seven cover tunes and a lone original. Given Oldham's
delightfully idiosyncratic method of working, one would expect these tunes
(titled only by their writers' names, so it's up to you to figure out
what songs he's actually singing) to be radically strange versions of
songs both popular and somewhat obscure. While it's true that these are
not straight-up readings, they are also far from strange. In fact, what
Oldham has done is create a half-hour of relaxed if sometimes harrowing
and melancholy personally interpreted music he enjoys performing.
Despite the fine sound and full presence of both Oldham and Baird, there
is the distance of reverie, memory, regret, and distance in these songs.
There are no stutter steps, loose lyrics, or unexpected interruptions
that have made earlier records more marginal, and perhaps to some
more interesting. The bottom line is that only a songwriter could
read these songs so subtly and yet inflect them with the kind of immediacy
that makes them sound as if they were his own. This is no mean feat when
some of the tunes here are considered in their respective circles
as having already been read that way. A case in point is Oldham's
version of Gayle Caldwell's "Cycles," which is (and will continue
to be) utterly defined by the persona of Frank Sinatra reading it. Nonetheless,
as Bonnie "Prince" Billy, he and Baird in duet sing it as if
it were some self-reflective back-porch ballad looking on the passage
of time and the stages of life. Unless you actually knew this tune well
enough, you'd never associate the two versions though Weeks does
a nice job of injecting some of the original's instrumental and sonic
tropes.
Another of these is Mickey Newbury's "I Came to Hear the Music,"
which opens the set and is one of the songwriter's best-known tunes. In
a version that stays faithful to the melody, Weeks adds some of the soft
touches inherent in the original production, and Oldham is suddenly very
old, looking back on a lifetime of regret. It's pretty, tender, and drenched
in both love and grief. Baird's sweet, out-of-time backing vocal underscores
the lines with the sense of time's passage. Glenn Danzig's "Am I
Demon?" feels like it belongs right where it is and seems more like
Oldham's tune than its author's. The male-centered darkness in the Björk/Thom
Yorke collaborative tune "I've Seen It All" could have been
a Palace Brothers tune, but Weeks keeps that from happening by texturing
the space and separation between lead and backing vocal and some spidery
reverbed electric guitars. The Phil Ochs tune "My Life" seems
to fall a bit flat here not much is added, but its real power seems
diminished despite that it is obviously the hinge on which the entire
EP turns. The lone original here, "I'm Loving the Street," is
upbeat by comparison. Its folksy old-time jaunt offers no regrets for
anything or anyone who has passed into history. There is only the present.
The R. Kelly tune "The World's Greatest" is a different song
here, as one might expect, designed as an Appalachian ballad that could
have come from anytime, anywhere, but is rooted in the present only by
the presence of a ghostly electric guitar. The melody is stretched but
recognizable barely and the true poetry in Kelly's words
comes falling out of the mouth of Oldham like clear water from a fountain.
This is a solid, less dramatic, but no less interesting and in
places even compelling momentary stopgap for Oldham. To be sure,
his fans will certainly want to check this out, but so will anyone interested
in the interpretive possibilities of song as a living entity independent
of performance.
(by Thom Jurek, All
Music Guide)
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