First impressions of Lie Down in the Light

After the glories of Superwolf and the Letting Go, last two “proper” Bonnie “Prince” Billy albums, expectations for Will Oldham’s work must be higher than they’ve ever been. For ardent admirers of those two albums, Lie Down in the Light might seem like a disappointment; but for those of us who can’t fathom why Oldham’s classic Ease Down the Road, from 2001, is so generally underrated, Lie Down in the Light comes also as a welcome return to that album’s sounds.

Of course, there’s a danger for any artist who returns to old, familiar styles: after being relatively easily pigeon-holed within the “alt.country” scene for just about all of his career, Oldham’s increasingly radical stylistic adventures over the last two albums seemed to indicate that he’d decided to move on; as such it’s impossible not to think of Lie Down in the Light’s return to older sounds as at least a little bit regressive. Furthermore, ever since the generally poorly regarded Bonnie “Prince” Billy Sings Greatest Palace Songs, fans of Will Oldham could be forgiven for greeting the news that he’s returned to his country routes with more than a little alarm.

Well, if (like most people) you didn’t take to Greatest Palace Songs (for the record, I don’t mind it), then don’t worry: the country of Lie Down in the Light is not the pass at a semi-gloss Nashville sound that Oldham made with that album, but rather a much warmer twangier, more pining, and more emotionally genuine sound. There’s no need to try second-guessing Oldham’s motives for this album as there was for Greatest Palace Songs. As I’m writing this I’m listening to Lie Down in the Light for the third time, and it’s getting richer and stronger and better with each listen.

The first draft of this review was just a blow-by-blow account of each of the album’s twelve tracks, but to be honest I got bored just writing it so I can’t imagine how dull it would be to have to read it. So instead here’s a few personal highlights from the album: the stirring, even joyful first three tracks (with lyrics in the lyric sheet – hand-written – capitalising important words or lines); Dennis Solee’s beautiful clarinet playing on track four, “For Every Field There’s a Mole” – reminiscent of certain “chamber jazz” recordings of the 30s and 40s, and if I’m not mistaken the first time the clarinet has appeared on an Oldham album, at least as a solo instrument; the beautiful backing vocals throughout the album, sometimes by Ashley Webber (the latest in a long line of excellent female vocalists Oldham has employed), and sometimes by a mini-choir of Rod Fletcher, John Ryles, and Marty Slayton, culminating in the simply stunning (and brief) close to the album, where all the voices join together. Indeed, Oldham’s own singing is universally strong here – we’re a long way away from the Palace days, when it was generally accepted wisdom that Oldham couldn’t really sing.

One aspect of Lie Down in the Light that must be mentioned is the lyrics. The idea of “Oldham returns to his old ways” is spoiled rather by a glance across the lyric sheet: if musically this album most strongly resembles Ease Down the Road, lyrically it couldn’t be more different. That album was a beautiful, pastoral affair – until the listener stopped smiling and clued into the brutal lyrics, with their tales of mass-murder and suicide, and the persistent theme of adultery. Lie Down in the Light finds Oldham in a disconcertingly cheerful frame of mind. It’s like listening to the music of Ease Down the Road accompanied by the lyrics it was always meant to have. This inevitably makes the album a less complex, unsettling affair – but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. If I told you Will Oldham had written the lyric “For every man who will last/there’s nothing he can’t get past/no obstacle he cannot erase” you might not believe me; but it’s there on the album, and so’s “Now I want the world to see/Everybody look at me/I’m a good person and free/and O she loves me”. And plenty more where that came from. For all the story-telling (a.k.a. “making stuff up”) that has been a persistent feature of Oldham’s songs, a listener in the past couldn’t help thinking that sometimes he was genuinely telling us something about his life; that adultery theme on Ease Down the Road that I mentioned earlier popped up often enough to make me, at least, wonder what exactly was going on in Oldham’s life at the time. The warmth of the lyrics of Lie Down in the Light is the equivalent here: it’s so prevalent throughout the album that a listener comes away with the strong impression that things must be going pretty well for Oldham right now.

And why wouldn’t they be? It’s hard to think of another songwriter out there at the moment so universally admired and praised, so consistently at the top of his game. Ultimately, Lie Down in the Light will probably be marked down as a minor Oldham album, especially given the fact that it follows two albums of such boldness and magnificence as the Letting Go and Superwolf. Where those two albums, especially the Letting Go, were more often than not stunning and beautiful, Lie Down in the Light is more generally just pleasant. But there’s no reason not to get it, especially if you’re a fan, and though it might seem regressive it’s genuinely a pleasure to hear Oldham making this kind of music again; and it’s an unexpected and surprisingly welcome development that he should be writing songs so unambiguously full of – as the lyric sheet for the album’s opener puts it – LOVE.