
Next up on my quest to get through my ipod is Bonnie 'Prince' Billy. Although I am currently wrapping up the letter 'M' I have some catch up to do and am going back to some of the albums I made a mental note of to write about.
So, here I am. Bonnie 'Prince' Billy, a.k.a Will Oldham, a.k.a one of the most overrated indie singer songwriters I have come across. A jack of all trades of sorts. Music artist, Actor, and chronic band name changer.
There was a time that I couldn't look at an Exclaim! newspaper, the NOW, or issues of The Big Takeover or Magnet without Mr. Oldham gracing its covers. Music rag reviewers and bloggers alike sang their praises loud for the singer songwriter. It was as though he could shit on a piece of vinyl and still make that years list of top 10 releases. With all the buzz it was one of those artists that I held out on for quite some time. Which brings me to the 2008 album "Lie down in the light."
At first listen it was a run of the mill singer songwriter album with nothing worth worrying over or getting excited about. However, as the album progressed I realized that this in fact is the problem itself. For an artist so revered by his peers and critics, this album fell quite flat. There was simply nothing exciting or noteworthy about it.
During a discussion with Murphy over a pint one day, we discussed the album and BPB and we both seemed to be on the same page. I pointed out that while listening to the album I felt that his lyrics were almost trying to mock me. There was something about them that made me feel he was telling the listener that he was more intelligent or more culturally important then they were. In conclusion we came to agree that all the name dropping and humming and hawing over him was without merit.
I mean, what was all the buzz about?
I can think of several singer songwriters that deserve much higher accolades than Will Oldham. Was it his "You better take me seriously" hipster beard or his "I'm an extremely reclusive artist" demeanor that had everyone flocking to see him, cop his albums, or write extensively about him?
It is all kind of lost on me.
Then again, you wouldn't find me alone at the back table in a local Queen West or Ossington strip watering hole, balls deep into a Bukowski novel and sipping on a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon either. So I guess it makes sense that I don't get it.

