ARoS Kunstmuseum: The 9 SpacesMusic provokes a visceral, instinctual understanding: I hear it and am immediately moved by its power. I find myself prowling around visual art, searching and finding, engaging with my mind as much as my heart. But my relationship with music is less cerebellum and more soul. It washes over me all at once, while visual art requires a more incremental understanding.
Put briefly: I love music. I should include it more on this blog.
Will Oldham. Photograph by Steve Gullick.
So to that end, here’s a link to a thoroughly enjoyable article on folk / rock enigma Will Oldham in last week’s New Yorker.
The article revolves around a laid back, lakeside concert he put on outside of his hometown of Louisville, and features some truly hilarious stuff. A sample:
By way of rehearsal, Oldham and the band had spent the week giving brief, unannounced performances at local bars. On Thursday night, he had called up Joe’s Palm Room, a venerable and predominantly African-American establishment, and asked, “Do y’all have music tonight?”
The answer was no.
“Do you want some?”
No.
“So if we came down there with some instruments and played some music, would you like that?”
No.
“For free?”
Oldham “did it his way” (and continues to do so), flopping around at Brown University for a while, sending teen girl-esque collages to Glenn Danzig, dabbling in acting, and finally learning lyrics and melodies with a nudge from the guys in Slint. Wow.
The Pretender by Kelefa Sanneh, The New Yorker, January 5, 2009
Wow, is right. You were played. Will Oldham is a masterful musician and songwriter. Kaleffa Saneh is a envious, egotistical solipsist. Listen to the music and the words. Forget the New Yorker.
Yowza!
Well, I can’t vouch for Saneh’s personal shortcomings or the veracity of his reportage, but it was an enjoyable read and a interesting supplement to my long admiration of Oldham’s work.