BY JOE KILLE

In print | Published April 21, 2005

This review shall not recount Will Oldham’s various recording monikers, nor shall it dally in the mire of trying to define the history of the Anti-Folk movement. It will pay homage to the simple truth that whether you find yourself singing, crying, laughing or screaming along with his songs, any opportunity to experience an album, single or concert by Oldham is an opportunity for quiet amazement.

My promo of “Superwolf” sat on my desk for quite awhile before I could bring myself to listen to it. I wanted to experience the album as a whole, hearing every song both by itself and together with every other track on the album. The last album to which I devoted this much reverence was last fall’s “SMiLE” by Brian Wilson, whose release I as eagerly anticipated.

Where I was immediately absorbed in the panorama of sound and ideas in “SMiLE,” finding its character and soul in one listen, I’ve had a more difficult time with “Superwolf.” The strength of Oldham’s word is immediately apparent, but the details of it, what exactly he intends to say or convey, are much more deeply buried.

On a first listen, Matt Sweeney’s guitar arrangements come through most prominently. They sing along with the vocals, mimicking the temperament, urgency, and sometimes silence, of Oldham’s voice. And in that, the words become absorbed, sounding like conventional songs.

It is only on a closer listen that you will find the quirk and slight perversion that has come to be common ground for Oldham’s work. On the third track “What Are You?” he sings “To take you over my knee/ and spank you mercilessly/I can do that, oh you’ll see” and then later “on a bench with your twisted fingers in me/in the rain with my sun dress torn off me.” It is unclear from the song whether or not he is singing from a woman’s perspective.

It is on the first track “My Home Is The Sea” though, when classic Oldham is revealed, as he sings “I have often said/that I would like to be dead/in a shark’s mouth” and “I love my tummy/it’s round and firm and funny/that’s what I am.”

This song will come to be what the album, if not this age of Oldham’s career, is known for. Even with his past stark rumination on loss and quiet foray into meditative folk ( “I See a Darkness” and “Master and Everyone” respectively) Will Oldham will be Will Oldham, sometimes melodramatic, sometimes funny, always undeniably human.

It is these two sides of Oldham, these two albums that seem to have been combined to make “Superwolf.” With the help of Sweeney’s “music”, for which he is plainly credited on the back jacket of the album, Oldham’s words sometimes give the clang and subtle dread of “I See A Darkness” or the whispered intimacies of “Master and Everyone.” “Superwolf” runs the spectrum of these styles and thoughts, from track to track and sometimes within one song.

Both “SMiLE” and “Superwolf” speak truthfully and wonderfully because of their creators. Brian Wilson carried his album around in his head for thirty years, silently adjusting and refining until he was able to record exactly what he intended. Will Oldham, it seems, can do nothing but record honestly whatever’s on his mind. What appear to be his affectations and assumed peculiarities hold throughout his work. They change little even when he strives to record in another character or another time, proving that they are nothing exaggerated, just him speaking plainly. Each time Oldham releases an album it is cause for a small celebration.

“Superwolf” is no exception to that rule. If you like the album, the band will be playing here at Swarthmore this Saturday.

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