Welcome back to “No Skips,” where I’ll be covering an album a bit more minimal this week. While I won’t get to the crowning opus of acoustic music until the end of the school year, I’ll start my coverage of the singer-songwriter genre with Will Oldham’s “I See a Darkness,” released under the “Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy” pseudonym in 1999. And to dispel any confusion — this album isn’t on Spotify, so you may need to stick to YouTube for this one.
Oldham is an interesting man, creating some of the most heartfelt music I’ve heard while also collaborating with Zach Galifianakis on silly secondhand music videos for Ye (formerly known as Kanye West) songs. The level of talent and humility he possesses isn’t always a bundled package with musicians, though. I was actually going to cover an album by the frontman of Red House Painters and Sun Kil Moon, Mark Kozelek, and while I still love his music, I couldn’t in good faith review it without addressing his assholery over the years. I already had to discuss John Kricfalusi last week, and I know there can be a separation between art and the artist, but it’s not worth it with Kozelek when there are artists like Oldham with a clean track record—and arguably better music.
The first track, “A Minor Place,” quickly delves the listener into the qualities of “I See a Darkness.” Following a conventional rhyme scheme with soothing singing, one realizes the next 38 minutes will be pleasant. Not every song follows this structure; still, Oldham’s wavering and soft-spoken demeanor is a constant comfort during both the lighter and heavier moments on the record. The inclusion of (what might be) an organ at the 2:30 mark proves his willingness to add different sounds to his minimalist music. The 2:15 mark on “Nomadic Revery (All Around)” is also a wild ride, as someone hoots and yodels behind Oldham on the bridge.
The title track is a standout to most people, and while I’m no exception, I’m holding out for the Johnny Cash cover released a year later, on his 66th album. I’m listening to Cash’s “American” series of albums in order, so while I have yet to hear the cover version, the song structure fits Cash perfectly, and the fact that Oldham is a background vocalist works with the speaker talking to someone else in the lyrics.
“Another Day Full of Dread” is where I like to think the narrative starts to go in a positive direction, particularly when the speaker has overcome dread when elaborating on the song’s title, “Today was another day full of dread / But I never said I was afraid.” The second set of vocals in the background shadowing the whimsically worded chorus adds emotion to the otherwise despondent song.
It sounds morbid at first, but stick with me when I claim that “Death to Everyone” is my favorite track on the record. Intentionally or not, the title appears like a wish for all to perish, but it’s actually stating matter-of-factly that all will perish one day. A psychedelic and woozy guitar-backed chorus hammers the nail in the coffin—a repeated reminder of our mortality—that “death to everyone is gonna come.” The song can obviously be interpreted poorly, especially if the listener is in a negative state of mind. While the song doesn’t necessarily celebrate death like Día de los Muertos does, the instance of reverse doublespeak when saying “death to everyone” aligns with my mask theory I’ll elaborate on later. Oldham is a master at portraying empowering sentiments with a bleak exterior.
“Knockturne” comes and goes swiftly, though the tone switch around 1:30 makes for a somber moment when Oldham proclaims, “Now I truly love you wholly.” The dynamics rapidly shift with “Madeleine-Mary,” a more rock-inspired cut compared to the rest of the record, although Oldham stays consistent in sounding like a younger Simeon Coxe from Silver Apples — which is a compliment.
David Pajo, a former member of Slint, a short-lived band with a current cult following, lent guitar work on “Song for the New Breed.” As he did with Slint, Pajo crushed the guitar work on this song, and Oldham also goes above and beyond, hitting some of his highest notes on the record. Even though the instrumentation grows a little more intense by the end, the vibe stabilizes and the song remains chill throughout. Speaking in short phrases, “Today I Was an Evil One” cryptically talks about pretty—not evil—things, but Oldham proudly professes the song’s title in the jubilant horn-backed chorus. Loose religious undertones manifest in the many mentions of God and the speaker noting he “had spent good time with greed.” The piano and snare drum help to craft a wonderful melody, as well.
The purely acoustic “Black” may offer more of the pessimism listeners might expect when observing the album cover. Oldham’s self-assured triumph over evil in the world, despite failing to fully rid himself of said evil tells an important and realistic message; life is about perspective. “Raining in Darling” ends our journey when Oldham states, “Oh, it don’t rain anymore / I go outdoors / Where it’s fun to be.” I could make a surface-level commentary on depression here, but for all the lyrics on the album touching on feeling misguided about life and love, this is a step in the right direction.
Finally, I’m unsure of how well I’ll explain it here, but I’m under the belief there’s an apparent mask motif running through “I See a Darkness.” The album cover, for instance, could be the depiction of a skeleton head, or a Día de los Muertos mask. Shrouded in black, it’s a barrier of entry for listeners who don’t want to be saddened by this seemingly tragic record. However, in reality, the album shares mostly uplifting words about understanding and subsequently transcending one’s demons with gentleness and rationale.