Bonnie 'Prince' Billy - 'London May'
Cushioned with clout and hopefulness, Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy returns to tinker with despair on new single ‘London May’.
Loneliness is a topic regarded and refrained often throughout the discography of Will Oldham (or his pseudonym Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy), and like previous albums and tracks, London May, Oldham’s new single is cut from the same cloth. Absorbingly melancholic, Oldham’s 2018 masterpiece, Songs of Love and Horror, fielded a sincerely, sadness-rife diet of musicianship, and to me at the time, erected itself as a record of remarkable poignance. Such evidence of Oldham’s transcendent, yet unmistakeably human songwriting has charmed me since and with this latest offering under the Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy umbrella, such charms and spells appear to be working their magic still.
Revisiting the theme of loneliness, Oldham’s single constructs a smoggy, sorrow-scape in the opening chords, as the advent of a piano delicately tip-toes into the fray. Abundant with gloom, the track’s beginning establishes a fugue state that is further proven by Oldham’s warbling voice, that itself is racked with a pocketed, almost vaulted-away fear of being detached from the audience. Oldham’s lyrics prattle with careful introspection, “Only the lonely can be so strong. Never has anyone made such a fuss. Death looks in the window as only death must,” as he reaches into the nature of the soul when left alone. Encouragingly, Oldham conquers solitude, by suggesting that loneliness can strengthen the soul of someone, likely because that someone has grown to not make a “fuss.” Sonically, Oldham parallels these meditations with dereliction in the first phases of the track, as a wailing violin, and cobblestone percussion sculpt a series of morbid curios. Like a delegate of absence, Oldham’s warbling does return and with it he brings increasing warmth as the chorus “Maybe we'll always be this way, After our horrific night comes bright day, You may want to stay,(You may want to stay),” sparks the song into life. Shedding pelts of drowsy weariness, Oldham springs into uplifted hope, acting the plucky pugilist as he encourages the listener to dismiss suffering, and instead foster a luminescent glow that comes with the encroachment of daylight.
Philosophically, Oldham breaks bread with the darker quarters of the soul, admitting that whilst the soul itself can be corrosive and negating, it can also offer crumbs of hope. The bare-bones of the song are fragmented, and at times muffled into obscurity, but in doing this, Oldham gifts the cameoing violin a chance to seize control and splinter our attention into pools of both misery and encouragement. Whilst the song fails to find a home amongst Oldham’s best, it does suggest that Oldham still desires to return to the core of his oeuvre and mine for flecks of unnavigated space. An additional boon to the song, can be found in the backing harmonies of Brit Taylor, whom in the chorus softens the brittle-bone bearings of Oldham’s voice. Her voice might itself represent the submerged, now revived burst of hope and light that Oldham’s lyrics reference. Oldham himself has revealed that the origins of the track are rooted in a horror film, Night of the Bastard. Whilst the song was not used for the film, it does highlight the tone and ambience of what Oldham was intending. Ushered together with remotely gothic inspiration, the track is resoundingly still a folk song, that teeters on the edge of being both vampiric and vulnerable.
The gulch between London May and Oldham’s earlier work such as Songs of Love and Horror or I Made A Place is distinct. However, such distinction does not condemn London May to the pits of being bang-average. Instead, London May offers evidence that Oldham is still capable of reaching the astounding heights of his craft, as he poetically farms for formidable, earnest sources of inspiration. Scaffolded by deft, delicate musical arrangements, the song sours before it can sweeten, with Oldham’s lyrics levitating above and beyond the veil of becoming bloated with dead-ended depression. In 2025, Oldham is scheduled to release a new album, The Purple Bird, under his synonym Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, and if London May teases anything, it teases that Oldham is intent on adorning his melancholia with a smattering of silver-linings.
Words by Josh Mabbut
