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indulgent, but no more than that. Then I heard it as an
implicit condemnation of someone protecting a solitude
so pain can’t get in. And finally I heard it as someone
completely alone who is hurt by the very fact of “noone”.
Songwriting, in my experience, is rarely this
disconcerting. And it’s not a one-off. The next song on
the LP has the repetition, building to a minor crescendo:
“God is the answer … God is the answer … God is
the answer!” All of which projects outward: there’s the
answer, out there, look, follow me. But is soon followed
by the softly sung line “God lies within”. Not, as one
might expect, the assertion of faith or the bathos of condescension,
but the deepening of the question. Where
within? Usually in popular music such ambiguity is an
issue only until it can be set aside. (Perhaps music is
ambiguity set aside). George Steiner claims that music
actually defines us as human. He expresses wonder at
the profound reverie even the most banal of tunes can
set in motion. We “pass beyond ourselves” he says,
and we become aware of “unfathomable depths”. This
seems familiar enough, and intellectual resistance would
certainly prevent this. Music demands an extra degree of
trust to let go and be open to the sounds. Yet I would say
our resistance to music is just as important and cannot be
dispensed with. It too defines us as human. Criticism, let
us say reflection, is as inevitable as breathing. Actually,
Steiner says as much; music also “takes us home in an
unexplained déjà vu”. I would explain all this by saying
BUY Will Oldham music online from and
the experience of reverie is really its imminence making
itself felt, rather than actually occurring. In effect, we are
experiencing the nostalgia for an impossible experience.
Our continued desire for music is a result of unrequitable
hope. Our humanity rests in acknowledging this. Go on,
work that one out.
Steiner also says that a world without music would
be “fundamentally non-human”, which makes one
wonder about the humanity of the deaf. For the living,
however, silence and what comes with it is inseparable
from the experience of music. This tends to move
against the will. The part of us that wants music would
rather disappear into the ecstatic oblivion of another
life, palpable in the musical experience; I know my
part does. Indeed, music tends to be judged according
to depth of oblivion it reaches – on the dancefloor, in
the car, the bedsit, the head. So when the song hinders
this disappearance, we resist and say we ‘don’t like’
the music. Nowadays, we are encouraged to condemn
the artist for being cerebral, solipsistic and indulgent
if oblivion isn’t forthcoming. The irony, of course, is
that our resistance is a result of our unique freedom:
our individuality. By celebrating this ignorance popular
culture is a moronic inferno of denial and aggression –
nothing to do with democracy or empowerment.
The unique thing about Will Oldham’s songs is that
they emerge from this very paradox. Remaining inside
it explains why his work has got better rather than
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