| Whether it's called
Palace Brothers, Palace Music, Palace Songs or just plain ol'
Palace, at the end of the day it comes down to one Will Oldham, who began public life as an actor, portraying the child preacher in John Sayles's film
Matewan. He's acted since, but never as convincingly as the heartbroke hillbilly who fuses these Palace records with extraordinary power. His voice is made of junkyard parts and breaks down when you least expect it. His accompaniment ranges from the jug band sincerity of his debut courtesy the band
Slint, There Is No-One What Will Take Care Of You, to the quiet acoustic reveries of the second self-titled album to the stilted rhythms of the drum machine led fourth album, Arise Therefore stream of consciousness to vague non sequiturs that suggest a backwoods Mark E. Smith of the Fall. And his productions range from ridiculously low-fi to well-produced demo tapes from tin-eared producer Steve Albini. But it's really the overall gestalt of these records--the way they seem to come from nowhere (left field being too defined a space)--that makes this Louisville, Kentucky songwriter the intriguing enigma he has fashioned.
His interviews are notoriously difficult, as if Oldham had studied the method acting of Bob Dylan in D.A. Pennebaker's Don't Look Back; while his consistent refusal to answer questions he views as inappropriate is in perfect sync with the creepy elitism that sneaks into the recorded works. Sometimes he's too hip, baby. But no matter, he also successfully copped Dylan's quick fix recording approach. There's something unusually hypnotic about the quick random actions of whatever pick-up band Oldham's assembled for the recording: piano notes waver off-key, guitar players loose their footing and drummers and drum machine stumble at unlikely junctures. It's among the weirdest and most satisfying music of this recent decade.
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